There are several reasons I don't keep a diary. The first is that I don't find myself interesting enough to be still fascinated by the details of my life ten years on. To some, rereading the agonized musings of a first crush is infinately amusing but to me, that sort of useless knoweldge is what's clogging up my brain and causing me to forget to take my slippers off before I leave the house. The second is that I'm lazy. The first tentative wet black strokes of ink onto brilliant, crisp sheets of paper is infinately erotic, but the thrill of the new wears off sometime around January 6th and I find myself developing strange nightly headaches. The third, and most influential, is that they're embarrassingly dull reads.

In light of these, the catastrophic and comprehensive database disaster orchestrated entirely by me last week as I attempted to move hosts was not the calamity it could have been. I still have every post and every comment from the past five years in text file, and possibly if every one of those entries was a gem of such radiance that I wouldn't feel abashed about taking them before a panel of Alan Bennett, Stephen Fry and Morrissey and demanding the worth of my entire life to be judged on their basis, I wouldn't mind taking the time to convert each one into a MT importable format. But, well. And as such, when reason returned and I was again able to say a sentence not containing the words 'five', 'cunting' or 'years', I realised that neither the world's loss, not my own, was a particularly great one.

This is Pandemian. GFDC v.2.0, but a little different.

Any GFDC post that I thought still had some merit I've archived in a seperate category. New feeds and email details are on the sidebar, and the greenfairy.com domain will still lead here for a bit, before slinking away quietly like a vicar caught in a swimwear department.