The real significance of 10.10.10

Is, of course, that it is the two year anniversary of this blog which was launched on 10.10.08.

portrait of the artist as a young man

I never expected this blog to last so long. I have, on more than one occasion, come rather close to scuttling it. I find blogging can be a bit like going to the gym: when you regularly partake it’s great and you get a lot out of it. But if you ever take a break for too long – it can be very hard to get back into it. It’s just the way it works.

When I coined the blog’s title it made intuitive sense. I am looking for a ‘year zero’ which is a new beginning. That might exist on a myriad of fronts: personal, career, geographic. In truth I can’t really complain with my lot in life but my overarching amibition and life-goals remain the same.

And so the journey continues.

5 thoughts on “The real significance of 10.10.10

Add yours

  1. Well i for one am glad you haven’t given up on it! But i know exactly what you mean – I come close to thinking ‘sod it’ and pressing delete so many times. Especially with vox going off and STILL getting used to WordPress – doesn’t feel like home yet.

    Happy Bloggiversary.
    Please fedEx me the cake asap. (any excuse – haven’t been to gym for 5 days as daughter was sick, no Hubby and weekend – will try again Tue – Mon = hol here).

  2. Birdy – thank you, glad I’m not the only one! Hope you’ll feel at home soon on wordpress, it’s a great platform.

    I’m still only managing gym once or twice a week. Need to be averaging 3x a week… would fedex cake but would be eaten before I could pack it! šŸ˜›

  3. Mancais – why thank you! Hope you blog some more too.

    Josh – No it is not of me and you have seen pics of me before! LOL. It’s of Stephen Tennant:

    Stephen James Napier Tennant (21 April 1906 – 28 February 1987) was a British aristocrat known for his decadent lifestyle. It is said, albeit apocryphally, that he spent most of his life in bed.

    He was born in England, the youngest son of a Scots peer, Lord Glenconner, and the former Pamela Wyndham, one of The Souls. His mother was also a cousin of Lord Alfred Douglas (1870-1945), Oscar Wilde’s lover and a sonneteer. On his father’s death, Tennant’s mother married Lord Grey, a fellow bird-lover. Tennant’s eldest brother was Edward – “Bim” – who was killed in the First World War.

    During the twenties and thirties, Tennant was an important member – the “Brightest”, it is said – of the “Bright Young People.” His friends included Rex Whistler, Cecil Beaton, the Sitwells, Lady Diana Manners and the Mitford girls part of the set that made the Nordstrom Sisters popular at The Ritz in 1939. He is widely considered to be the model for Cedric Hampton in Nancy Mitford’s novel Love in a Cold Climate; one of the inspirations for Lord Sebastian Flyte in Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited, and a model for Hon. Miles Malpractice in some of his other novels.

    Also during the 1920s and 1930s, Tennant had an affair with the poet Siegfried Sassoon.[1] Prior to this he had proposed to a friend, Elizabeth Lowndes, but had been rejected. (Hoare relates how Tennant discussed plans with Lowndes about bringing his Nanny with them on their honeymoon.) His relationship with Sassoon, however, was to be his most important: it lasted some four years before Tennant off-handedly put an abrupt end to it. Sassoon was reportedly depressed afterwards for three months, until Sassoon married in 1933 and became a father in 1936.

    For most of his life, Tennant tried to start or finish a novel – Lascar. It is popularly believed that he spent the last 17 years of his life in bed at his family manor at Wilsford, Wiltshire, which he had redecorated by Syrie Maugham. Though undoubtedly idle, he was not truly lethargic: he made several visits to the United States and Italy, and struck up many new friendships, despite his later reputation as a recluse. This became increasingly true only towards the last years of his life. Yet even then, his life was not uneventful: he became landlord to V. S. Naipaul who immortalised Tennant in his novel The Enigma of Arrival. When Tennant died in 1987, he had far outlived most of his contemporaries.

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