An anniversary, sort of

I realised last week that on Friday, I would have been blogging here for seven years. I meant to do a post on Friday, but sunk into post-Christmas laziness instead. Yesterday I went out into the real world (went to a friend's), and so here I am, hastily writing a post before I forget.

My modest goal, at the time, was to have somewhere to record an also modest goal of reading one classic novel a month, and maybe a space to write some reviews.

Over the years, of course, my focus has shifted slightly. Some years I've hardly blogged at all. This year, I made more of an effort because I do like my little corner, but I've ... I can't really say expanded. I don't really post many reviews, but that's fine. I half-decided to try this new thing instead, where I talk about life and books and cats and spawn and general things.

It's sort of working.

Seven years ago, I poked my nose over the book-blogging fence. There wasn't anyone at first I could say "hi" to, but I went out in search of other bloggers, and memes, and put myself out there as it were.

This tiny space has never, and will never be a place people visit for deep and insightful reviews, or posts. But I hope in my ramblings about books, cats, spawn and life in general, people find something to smile at, and something they recognise.

Onward, yes?

Yes.