I unearthed an email thread from 2021, replied like a time traveller, and now I’m waiting for a startled ping from someone who thought I’d vanished. The subject line still says ‘Quick question,’ the attachment still claims to be ‘final_final,’ and my apology reads like a museum label. If they answer, I’ll pretend the wormhole was planned. If they don’t, the artefact returns to storage.
Life
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Inbox Archaeology
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A Ghost in the Algorithm
My streaming app keeps suggesting I play the same film on repeat, as if it remembers for me and won’t let the habit fade. The thumbnail lands like a nudge: the scene we always quoted, the line that once made everything feel lighter. I hover over ‘Play’, then move on. I don’t delete it; I want that doorway to stay where I can find it.
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Stair Workout Truce
Five minutes up and down the stairs felt like a peace talk between legs and lungs; both complained, neither won, and I ended up surprisingly alive. I set a timer, gripped the handrail, and counted steps like a stubborn metronome. Thuds, breath, thuds. No glory, just a bit of heat in the calves and less fog in the head. A truce has been declared until tomorrow, with terms under review.
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Tech Gremlin
I ‘fixed’ a plugin by turning it off and on again; hero status unconfirmed, but the page loads and no one needs to know how thin the miracle was. I cleared the cache, whispered ‘please’, and promised not to update anything mid-afternoon. Notes for future me: write the steps down, pretend they were deliberate, and never click ‘experimental’ on a live site.
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Bookshop Detour
I went in for a birthday gift and walked out with three books and a vague plan to become a better person by Tuesday. A staff-pick sticker winked, a tote I didn’t need appeared at the till, and the receipt tried to fold itself in shame. The gift remains theoretical. I’ll wrap one of the books if pressed, then borrow it back ‘for research’.
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City Nil, Grandpa One
City was a no-go: none of the passwords worked, and thirty minutes persuading the girls to pack a room full of toys meant we nearly missed the film. I missed part of it while making their tea. No football, half a film, two fed girls. On balance, a result.
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City on a Tablet, Granpa on the Sofa
I’ve supported Man City for fifty-eight years, maybe more. I haven’t got Sky this season, but today I can watch on my son-in-law’s tablet while the girls put on a film. Volume low, subtitles on (me, not them). I’ll sit between blankets and crumbs, one eye on the score, the other on their cartoon plot. At sixty-three, I’ll take it: the girls first, City second.
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Sunday Lunch in Waterlooville
I cooked Sunday lunch yesterday so we could eat it today while I look after my granddaughters, while their mum and dad are off to McFly and Busted in London. Roast reheated, plates cleared, bedtime stories queued. I’m staying over in Waterlooville, and it feels more like a sleepover than babysitting.
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I used to love sports
I used to love sports, but now I only watch them occasionally. Today, England Women beat France in the World Cup semi-final, dragging me to the edge of my seat and back again. Yes, no, yes, no, then elation. No rituals or routines, just tension doing its work. It reminded me of the Lionesses. If only the men showed the same steel.
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First Drop-off, Week One Done
Maisie’s first day at infant school coincided with my first post on Shared. The morning was calm: both girls went to their classrooms without fuss. Back home, I went to write it up and realised I’d left my power lead. Luckily, my tablet has enough battery to see me through today.