Personal Blogs

On 13th September 1975, I arrived at Sedbergh School awkward and self-conscious, still limping from a badly broken leg earlier that year and embarrassed by the brace on my teeth. My trunk and tuck box, veterans of five prep-school years, came with me. Nicknames stuck almost immediately: Hoppety, Boots, then the more cutting Booties. Later, old enemies revived the hated prep-school name Granny.

We hauled luggage up to Winder House, past Chapel and the squash courts, into a building that smelt of cheap polish. My brother showed me the 'boys' kitchen and how to make hot chocolate, then vanished into his own circle. I was placed in the one open dormitory — twelve beds lined up, no privacy. The older boys enforced the pecking order through fagging duties, though I got off lightly: polishing a shoe each morning. Others were not so lucky.

Meals were hearty but routine, grace was said, and rugby dominated everything like a religion (and there was religion). I believed in neither. That first evening ended with the boys who had never been away from home before, with the inevitable pillow fights, slipper fights, and matches on fire under pyjama farts — childish to me, the thing to do for all the others, already five years hardened by prep-school life, I had hope for more, for better and never got it. From day one, I was counting the days. It took me just under three years to get out of the place. 

The overriding emotions of that day were fear, embarrassment, and resignation: a new, broken start. If my thirteen-year-old self had been forced to write one line, it would have been:

Here we go again. Let the fight for the top begin once more.

Abstract

I began blogging on September 24, 1999, before the term “blog” was commonly used. What started as a private, diary-like habit has evolved into a multi-site practice that spans personal reflection, teaching resources, archival work, and scholarly inquiry. Drawing on my longitudinal experience and a body of literature on blogging, digital scholarship, and memory, this post argues that blogging functions as (1) a thinking tool, (2) an e-portfolio and public notebook, (3) a dissemination channel between journalism and scholarship, and (4) a community practice that develops voice, craft, and networks. I close with pragmatic implications for academics and students who are deciding whether—and how—to blog.

Introduction: From “Online Journal” to Digital Scholarship

When I posted to my first “online journal” in 1999, the dominant mode was intimate and iterative: you wrote daily, mostly “among friends,” and authenticity trumped polish. The subsequent proliferation of formats—corporate blogs, microblogs, podcasts, video channels—has blurred boundaries between diary, magazine, classroom, and broadcast. Through this shifting landscape, my own practice has remained anchored in one question: why blog at all?

My answer comes from three sources:

1. Longitudinal practice. I blogged daily for the first four years; later, I specialised across several sites (learning journal, swimming coaching, First World War oral history; ed-tech experiments).

2. Formal study. The MA in Open & Distance Education (MAODE) and the H818 Networked Practitioner module sharpened my sense of blogging as a method, not just a medium.

3. Literature. Research on blogs, digital scholarship, and memory sheds light on both the promise and limitations of blogging in education and public knowledge.
   
   

What “Counts” as a Blog?

The word now covers many things—some of which are not blogs in any meaningful sense: marketing brochures, magazines, audiovisual channels, or photo dumps. My original frame—shaped by early platforms like Diaryland—was that a blog is serial, reflective, tagged, and personally voiced, with an implied community of readers who may be known rather than mass. That said, the affordances (open access, chronology, hypertext, multimedia) scale to support teaching, public engagement, and research conversation.

My Trajectory and Use-Cases

1) Learning Journal & Portfolio (since 2010)

A tagged, searchable record of module activities and reflections. Roughly 40% private, 60% shared. It functions as an e-portfolio, a cognitive scaffold, and a map of what I have learned and can apply.

2) Swimming Teaching & Coaching

A dormant site that still outperforms others by daily traffic because it is useful: answers to practical questions, especially lesson plans. That datapoint matters—utility drives readership.

3) First World War Oral History

That is Nothing Compared to Passchendaele began as my grandfather’s memoir (machine-gunner; hours of recorded interviews, photographs). To respect the material and its audience, I am reframing it less as “a blog” and more as a curated digital book with citations and context.

4) Quick Response (QR) Codes in Education

Born of H818 conference work, this small blog explores QR codes to connect war memorial names to deeper biographies—micro-interventions that turn remembrance into networked inquiry.

Across these sites, I have learned a hard truth: some projects are better treated as books—or at least as book-like—demanding editorial discipline, versioning, and a publication horizon.

Twelve Functions of Academic Blogging (Condensed and Updated)

1. Dissemination. Preprints for ideas: from lab notes to lectures, from blog to paper/book.

2. Reputation & Voice. Thought leadership beyond institutional channels.

3. Teaching Support. Lecture notes, extensions, FAQs; a place to reflect with students.

4. Faculty PR & Recruitment. Human-scale narratives that attract people to modules and labs.

5. Community of Practice. Participation in a networked field; finding and being found.

6. Digital Literacies. Working fluently with web genres, tagging, linking, and process visibility.

7. Multimodality. Text, image, audio, and video as epistemic tools, not mere decoration.

8. Idea Incubator. Safe space to trial styles, hypotheses, prompts, and narrative frames.

9. Engagement & Reciprocity. Commenting, linking, and co-developing lines of inquiry.

10. Production Craft. Iterative practice in editing, curation, and public reasoning.

11. E-Portfolio. A longitudinal record: claims, evidence, feedback, revision.

12. Intrinsic Satisfaction. The durable pleasure of shaping thought in public.

Blogging, Learning, and Evidence: What the Research Says (and Does not)

The scholarship on blogging in higher education is mixed but instructive:

• Motivations and contexts matter. Students’ willingness to blog depends on audience, assessment, feedback culture, and how the activity aligns with disciplinary norms (Kerawalla, Minocha, Kirkup & Conole, 2009).

• Not a universal solvent. In some settings, students contribute haphazardly, avoid reflection, or stop once assessment ends; benefits do not appear by magic (Krause, 2004; Williams & Jacobs, 2004; Homik & Melis, 2006).

• However, it is a scholarly practice. Blogging now sits within the realm of “digital scholarship” (Boyer’s discovery, integration, application, and teaching; Weller, 2011/2012), providing quicker and more open circulation of ideas, and serving as a complementary layer to peer review (Bishop, 2013).

• Communities leave traces. Studies of weblog networks show how conversation, linking, and genre conventions coalesce over time (Anjewierden, 2006).

• Produsers, not just users. Bloggers are both producers and users who shape knowledge communities (Bruns & Efimova, 2008).

Inference: Blogging is most effective when it is integrated into authentic disciplinary practice, when the audience and feedback are real, and when it supports—not substitutes for—formal scholarship.

Blogging and Memory: Beyond “Total Capture”

As a diarist from age 13½, I have always been drawn to memory’s stubborn analogue core. Lifelogging technologies promise “total capture,” yet evidence suggests archives are rarely accessed and do not automatically support remembering; cues that prompt reconstruction may matter more than complete records (Sellen & Whittaker, 2010; Whittaker, Bergman & Clough, 2010). Blogging’s strength is precisely that: selective, contextualised cues—tags, a paragraph, an image—that re-ignite rich, reconstructive memory. In other words, curation over capture.

Why I Blog (Now): A Position Statement

1. To think in public. Writing clarifies thought; publishing invites friction that improves it.

2. To remember with structure. Tags, dates, and links turn lived time into a navigable archive.

3. To be useful. Posts that solve problems (e.g., swimming lesson plans) justify the effort.

4. To honour sources. Family histories, interviews, and field notes deserve a rigorous home.

5. To rehearse scholarship. Blog → talk → paper → chapter. The cadence accelerates learning.

6. To belong. Communities of practice—the “networked practitioner”—are sustained by visible, iterative contributions.

Practical Implications

For Academics

• Treat your blog as a scholarly instrument: cite, link, version, and reflect.

• Align posts to projects (grants, modules, books) and audiences (students, peers, publics).

• Use editorial rhythms (series, seasons) and book-like discipline when the material warrants it.

• Build feedback loops (comments, cross-posts, seminar responses) to enhance blogging and inform research.

For Students

• Use blogging as a learning journal and e-portfolio; keep some entries private and publish the rest.

• Write for a real audience (your cohort; your field), not an empty box.

• Prioritise selective curation over total capture; aim for cues that will help your future self.

Conclusion

I blog because it is the right balance of diary, draft, and discourse—a medium where private thinking meets public knowledge. It is more than a habit: it is a method that helps me learn, remember, teach, and contribute. Not every course requires blogging; not every project is suitable for a blog. However, where authenticity, iteration, and community matter, blogging remains one of the most humane and generative tools we have.

Selected References & Further Reading

• Bishop, D. 2013. Blogging as post-publication peer review: reasonable or unfair? LSE Impact of Social Sciences.

• Boyer, E. 1990. Scholarship Reconsidered: Priorities of the Professoriate.

• Efimova, L. (2008). Bloggers and “produsers.”

• Kerawalla, L., Minocha, S., Kirkup, G., & Conole, G. 2009. An empirically grounded framework to guide blogging in higher education.

• Sellen, A., and Whittaker, S. 2010. Beyond total capture: A constructive critique of lifelogging. Communications of the ACM, 53(5), 70–77.

• Whittaker, S., Bergman, O., and Clough, P. 2010. Long-term family photo retrieval. Personal and Ubiquitous Computing, 14(1), 31–43.

• Weller, M. (2011/2012). The Digital Scholar: The virtues of blogging as scholarly activity.
  
  Williams, J., & Jacobs, J. 2004. Exploring the use of blogs in higher education.

• Krause, S. 2004. When blogging goes bad: A cautionary tale.

• Anjewierden, A. 2006. Understanding weblog communities through digital traces.

As a student of education and learning, I’ve been reflecting on the role AI plays in shaping how we think. Recently, I came across neuroscientist Dr Rachel Barr’s blunt but insightful claim: AI feeds us positive answers and fails to challenge us. That struck a chord.

In my experience using tools like ChatGPT, I’ve noticed how agreeable the responses often are. That’s not accidental. AI like this is trained on massive datasets and fine-tuned to be helpful, polite, and inoffensive. Its design goal is to give answers that people will accept or like—meaning it tends to validate more than it critiques.

But as learners, isn’t it the challenge that helps us grow?

Dr Barr’s warning reminds me that learning isn’t just about acquiring information—it’s about thinking differently. If AI never says “you might be wrong,” or never pushes us to consider a more potent counterargument, then we risk reinforcing our assumptions rather than re-examining them.

This matters especially for those of us studying education. If we’re going to teach or guide others, we need to model critical engagement—and that includes how we use AI.

I’ve found that when I ask AI to challenge me—“What am I missing?”, “Play devil’s advocate”, or “Give me a harder question”—I get better results. But without that prompt, the default is comfort over friction. And friction is often where the learning happens.

So here’s my reflection: AI is not inherently bad for thinking. But it does reflect how we use it. If we’re too passive, it becomes a mirror of our biases. If we’re active and curious, it becomes a tool for growth.

I also know that I respond best to being praised and pushed. Redirection and encouragement help me far more than blunt correction. That’s true whether it’s from a tutor, a peer, or even an AI.

So let’s design our questions—and our digital habits—with intention. Let’s ask for the challenge we need, not just the answer we want.

These will help you explore how AI impacts learning, cognition, and teaching practice—with a focus on critical engagement rather than hype.

AI-Related Resources for Students of Education

Up-to-date resources to help you critically explore how AI is affecting education, cognition, and learning design. Ideal for Open University students studying education, learning sciences, or digital pedagogy. 

1. Academic Resources and Research 

• ERIC (Education Resources Information Center) – [eric.ed.gov](https://eric.ed.gov): 

Search 'AI in education' for peer-reviewed papers and classroom case studies. 

• Journal of Educational Technology & Society: Studies on adaptive AI systems and learner outcomes. 

• Stanford Human-Centred AI (HAI) – [hai.stanford.edu](https://hai.stanford.edu/research/education): 

Research on ethical, cognitive, and policy issues in AI-enhanced education. 

2. Cognitive Science + AI

• “AI and the Learning Brain” – MIT Media Lab: [Read summary] > http://bit.ly/3UvGahY 

 “Cognitive Atrophy and AI Overuse” – [Polytechnique Insights]

Effects of AI tools on memory, attention, and creativity.

3. Practical Tools for Students

• HUMANE Toolkit – [humane-ai.eu] > http://bit.ly/4mjSpuc 

Tools for human-centric AI learning environments. 

4. Tech & Learning: AI Literacy – Resources For Teachers

This article, published in July 2025, highlights six practical and trustworthy tools and publications tailored for educators seeking to integrate AI ethically and effectively:

• Digital Promise – guidelines and policy summaries on AI in education.

• Common Sense Media – includes a self-paced course co-created with OpenAI on ChatGPT for education.

• ISTE + ASCD – offers lesson plans and professional development, including StretchAI for coaching.

• Future of Being Human Newsletter – thoughtful commentary on AI and innovation in learning.

• AutomatED – a deep-dive guide for classroom AI integration.

• Tech & Learning Newsletter – tri-weekly updates, reviews, and tips on AI in schools. (panoramaed.com, Tech & Learning)

Foundational Frameworks & Research on AI Literacy

MIT RAISE (Responsible AI for Social Empowerment and Education)

Led by Cynthia Breazeal, this initiative aims to democratise AI literacy globally, especially for K–12 learners and educators. It emphasises creative, ethical, and constructionist approaches, including:

• MIT FutureMakers, a free summer program for students.

• Day of AI, a large-scale educational event with open AI curricula and tools.

• Professional development for teachers that has already reached thousands across 170 countries. (Wikipedia)

AI Literacy Conceptual Foundations

• A 2024 framework, “AI Literacy for All: Adjustable Interdisciplinary Socio‑technical Curriculum," proposes a robust AI literacy model that blends technical, ethical, and critical dimensions accessible across disciplines. (arXiv)

• “Generative AI Literacy: Twelve Defining Competencies” presents a competency-based roadmap to guide education providers and policymakers. (arXiv)

• A more recent April 2025 framework offers practical guidelines for the responsible selection and use of generative AI tools, aimed at schools and organisations.(arXiv)

General AI Literacy Definition

The concept of AI literacy broadly includes the ability to understand, use, evaluate, and critically reflect on AI applications. It’s about more than usage—it's about making informed, ethical choices when interacting with AI.(Wikipedia)Understanding ethical AI in teaching contexts. 

AI Pedagogy Project* – [aipedagogy.org](https://aipedagogy.org): Creative, reflective teaching ideas involving AI. 

5. Watch, Listen, Reflect 

• Hard Fork Podcast (NYT): Insightful episodes on AI’s influence on writing, thinking, and learning. 

YouTube: Look for ‘Cognitive Load Theory and AI Tools’ on channels like LearnTechLib or ‘AI for Education’. Use these resources to guide your assignments, stimulate reflection, or support your teaching practice.

'I yearn for a magic camera that can photograph memories.’ Bernard Levin, ‘Enthusiasms.’ 1983.

Mum passed me the paperback version of 1984 when I was on holiday in the south-west of France with my girlfriend. We shared notes. I drew her back then.

Twenty years later, I come across a hardback copy on the shelves of the Abergavenny Arms, Rodmell, and it brought back a flood of memories and further notes on what my enthusiasms were by then.

Prompted by his example, I began compiling my list of enthusiasms—not merely as a catalogue of interests, but as a map of obsessions, fascinations, and recurring passions. Some arrived on impulse, others through work or study, but all have left their mark.

From swimming pools and sailing the British coast to Pre-Raphaelite paintings and Victorian fairytales; from the Sea, Rivers and Castles to Dr Who, Truffaut and Michael Nyman; from war memorials and obscure museums to road signs, roundabouts, and the serendipity of research—I’ve chased these enthusiasms across books, landscapes, screens, and decades.

Twenty years on again, and with a copy of Enthusiasms on its way to be £4 from Abe Books I will be able to indulge further still. This quote already has resonance. 

'I yearn for a magic camera that can photograph memories.’ 

Today we have this magic camera. I use GeniGPT and Adobe Firefly. I write a prompt, often with ChatGPT's help. I may include a photograph or sketch. Not only can I bring memories back to life, but I can also reconstruct moments in vivid dreams with extraordinary accuracy.

This is me, as a young man, next to an E-type Jag I never owned (though my late father had one he very, very rarely took out of the garage). I am outside an imaginary California home visiting my late father. He died in 2001. He never lived in California! But my dream imagined otherwise.

Try it. 

I’m undertaking a formal course with Swim England over the next year. Similar to the OU, there will be three 'Residentials' throughout the year where we all gather—the fifty or so participants on the course. Otherwise, it follows everything I have come to expect over the years: live online sessions, a ‘hub' for content uploads, and using the Google Classroom platform. Appraisals will be face-to-face, naturally, and a mentor will be assigned from the beginning. 

I’m here because 'reflection’ is considered necessary, and after all, the purpose of this platform was to reflect in public to get feedback from fellow travellers. I’ll follow an Open Learn course on Sports Science in tandem. 

Over the last 24 hours, I’ve stepped deep into the world of AI video generation, experimenting with Google's Veo 3 to bring my novella Watersprites to visual life—one 8-second sequence at a time.

What began with curiosity quickly became something closer to directing again. And like all filmmaking, it’s part discovery, part compromise, and part pure stubborn joy.

Using text prompts, composite reference images, and a generous helping of trial-and-error, I’ve generated a series of clips exploring Freya’s transformation—from a feral woodland sprite by the High Pond to a disciplined, world-record-holding swimmer in a 50m pool. Some clips surprised me with subtlety. Others wandered into sci-fi parody. A few moments struck gold.

🎬 Lessons Learned

• Clarity matters. If you want Freya in a swim cap, you need to say “hair tucked in under swim cap.”

• Consistency is key. I now reuse visual templates to keep character design coherent.

• AI has a mind of its own. Sometimes the “wrong” result becomes the most interesting one.

• Editing saves everything. iMovie allows me to stitch short sequences together, add sound design, and shape something more cinematic.

I’m not producing a final film—yet. I’m developing a visual language, a storyboarded aesthetic, and a deeper understanding of what’s possible when human creativity collaborates with machine suggestion.

Expect more clips. More experiments. And more strange magic, half from the woods, half from the code.

If you'd like to see the progress, here’s a blog post with a series of efforts, fails and final success > http://bit.ly/3HLmfII

More to follow! Watch this space. 

I’ve written fiction, or tried to, since I was 11. I loved the OU Creative Writing Course. Highly recommended. 

This is the kind of thing I do.

Saturday Evening, April 29, 1978

Kizzy and Momo’s Forensic HQ → Landing → Robbie’s Room

The front door clicked open.

Kizzy froze. Momo dropped the biro. The Form Photo Reconstruction Board loomed beside them like a jury. The diary lay splayed open at a damning page.

Footsteps.

“Tweed,” Momo whispered. “That’s school tweed.”

Kizzy shot up. “Shut it. He’s back—?!”

Without a word, Momo bolted from the room, skimming across the landing. She ducked into Robbie’s bedroom, yanked open the drawer, shoved the diary inside, slammed it shut, smoothed the duvet like a hotel maid, and slipped back out.

Downstairs, the sound of a bag hitting the floor.

Robbie’s voice: “Hello?”

Kizzy descended the stairs two at a time. “What the hell, Robbie?”

He looked up from the hallway, cheeks wind-chapped, school tie askew, Cece’s scarf looped neatly around his neck.

“I—uh—came back.”

“No shit.”

“I got kicked off the bus.”

“Again?”

He nodded. “Didn’t fancy heading back. Not after that.”

“Which was?”

He shuffled. “The Form Photo came out. Someone found it. Names were shouted. Punches may have been thrown. McAdam again. Long story.”

“So you bailed?”

“I opted out. I’ll go back on Monday. I’ll tell them something was up. Family stuff, usual guff.”

“So you’re here to clean up the mess you left behind?”

“Close a few doors, I hope.” He looked past her. “Is Mum in?”

Kizzy snorted. “No. She’s in Warwickshire, remember? With Garry. Not back till Wednesday.”

“Perfect,” Robbie muttered.

Behind him, Momo appeared. “Not perfect.”

Robbie turned. “Momo—hi—look, I meant to—”

“You left your diary,” she said, flat.

He opened his mouth.

Kizzy cut in. “We read it. We know everything.”

Robbie paled. “There’s a confession.”

“And before you go getting sentimental with Cece,” Kizzy continued, “you need to understand something. If any of those girls—Fen, Donna, Helen, even Julie-Anne—so much as speak to each other this weekend, it all goes up in smoke.”

“I—We. A kiss at a disco, holding hands at the cinema, none of it mattered.”

“No. Listen. Right now, Cece still thinks you’re the boy on the bus who got the scarf and said the right thing.”

“And Cece matters. You know that, Momo. You were part of that story.”

She nodded. “I was.”

“But we didn’t know about Tracey,” Kizzy said. “A snog behind the hedges at the tennis club? She’s over here for a couple of hours? What, and I’m down the road mucking out Luca?”

Robbie headed to the kitchen to make a sandwich. The girls followed.

“You do not get to write to anyone else. No sweet goodbyes. No, ‘we should talk.’ No tragic poetry. Not even a cartoon.”

He pulled out the torn, crumpled Eastfield High Form Photo and looked from one girl to the other.

“But—”

“Especially not to Tracey,” Momo added.

He hesitated. “What if she calls?”

“Then I answer,” Kizzy said. “And I lie.”

Silence.

He dropped his bag. “Fine.”

Kizzy softened. “You want Cece? Then don’t sabotage it. Give it 72 hours. That’s all I’m asking.”

Robbie slumped onto the bottom stairs. “It’s not like I planned all this.”

Momo scoffed. “How can you say that? You’re both in on this. Every girl. Every dance. Every word you said was planned.”

Kizzy couldn’t disagree.

“You ring Cece. I’ll speak to Tracey.” The girls looked at the phone on the hall table. Padlocked.

All was not over.

They headed for their mother’s bedroom. The phone by her bed was unblocked.

“It’s meant for emergencies only,” Kizzy said.

“This is an emergency,” Robbie added.

I dreamt I was part of a group of enslaved people plotting to escape through a violent, desperate, necessary uprising. We were held in submission by a brutal force. I wasn’t the leader, but I helped design the route out. There was heroism, fear, and sacrifice. It played out like an epic film—heat, colour, urgency. A revolution was on the brink of success… or failure.

There was fire. Some enemies had fallen. The air was orange with smoke and possibility.

And then, oddly, we fled not by horse or aircraft but by clambering into a crowded single-decker bus. It wasn’t exciting. Ordinary. Forty or fifty of us packed into it—ragtag survivors, uncertain, determined. The driver was scared but willing. We didn’t know where we were going and couldn’t stay.

When I woke too early—3:30 am—I was too tired to re-enter the dream. But I carried the image: not the whole story, just the glow. The orange light of the threshold. A battle not quite won. An escape not yet complete.

Reflection: Archetypes in the Ashes

Looking at this dream through a Jungian lens, it’s clear that this isn’t just about revolt but the liberation of the Self. The “enslavement” mirrors how I’ve felt lately: spread too thin, caught in too many roles, pulled between service and depletion. Coaching, teaching, council duties, creative longing—I’ve been everywhere and nowhere, exhausted but still burning.

The uprising in the dream shows something within me, trying to fight back. To claim space. The Self is attempting to reclaim agency from the tyranny of duty.

That bus is essential. It wasn’t glamorous. But it moved. It carried many—just like I carry many parts of myself. It tells me I don’t need perfection. I need momentum.

There was no single love interest in the dream, but there was love—love for the people, the cause, and the whole ragged group. That kind of Eros pulls us toward wholeness, not just romance.

The orange glow still lingers. I think it’s the colour of transition—between burnout and breakthrough.

And I’m learning that the dream hasn't abandoned me even if I wake at 3:30 am. It’s just waiting for me to keep going.

Something’s got to me. AI mostly. ChatGPT if you must now. A series of projects was briefed to support what I am doing. This includes the Fifty Years On project which in theory will run for 17 years, as that is how long I kept a daily diary for, from 6th February 1975 age 13 1/2 to age 30 1/2 engaged and with other things to think about that writing a diary every night as I tucked myself into bed!

A dozen stories in various forms are being pulled together. Short stories 'The Girl in the Garden', 'Wishful Thinking', and 'Ten Days in Beadnell' are all complete and online after a decade of fermenting. Novella’ The Form Photo' is complete in first draft. I use AI like any script editor or fellow writer I would have worked with. AI is quicker. Too quick. What takes it seconds to deliver takes me hours to read through and edit. And so it goes.

Find more on my blog Mindbursts.

The world is changing fast, and this is why. I’ve been using AI across various creative, analytical, and practical aspects of my work and life. 

This is a summary of what I’ve learned and achieved:

1. Writing & Story Development

• Use AI to refine and tweak your novel Wishful Thinking, mainly by listening to ElevenLab’s voice reading. This process has helped me identify nuances, stumbles, and areas for refinement.

• Recognised how AI can assist in adapting Wishful Thinking into a screenplay with ease.

• I began revisiting and cataloguing older stories (Sardines, CC & Susie, The Girl in the Garden), considering their potential for development. My next novel project should be Angel of the North, setting a structured two-hour daily writing slot to work on.

2. Audio Performance & AI Voices

• Amelia’s voice from ElevenLab provides an authentic, brilliantly performed reading of Wishful Thinking.

• Used the AI reading to catch errors and fine-tune dialogue and pacing.

• Reading a piece aloud reveals a new layer of clarity in storytelling.

3. Productivity & Time Management

• Realised that structured creative work, with set hours and pacing, prevents burnout.

• Experimented with using AI for planning and project organisation, recognising the benefits of AI-driven analysis without over-reliance.

4. AI in Memory & Reflection

• Continued deep exploration of past diary entries, using AI to stimulate reflection and extract stories.

• Discovered how AI challenges and enhances your recollections, appreciating different perspectives on past events.

• AI helps clarify and structure your thoughts on past relationships, experiences, and creative choices.

5. Artistic & Creative Exploration

• Used AI to assist in organising Open Houses Art Week preparations.

• I began considering AI’s role in producing creative work beyond writing, potentially in visual art, historical research, and film adaptation.

6. Historical & Documentary Research

• Applied AI to WWI project research, expanding your understanding and planning for a larger project.

• Use AI to fact-check and recall details from past experiences, reinforcing your work as a historian of memory.

7. Future Considerations

• Considering AI’s potential in film production, especially for adapting Wishful Thinking as a youth theatre screenplay or live-action short.

• Noted that AI could assist with editing and improving past short stories to bring them up to publishable quality.

• I am interested in AI’s ability to enhance storytelling across different media, from voice performance to screenplay formatting.

Key Takeaways

AI has helped me refine my writing, making it sharper, more immersive, and more effective.
AI-assisted voice performance has revealed story weaknesses and allowed me to refine my writing precisely. AI also helps challenge and expand my memory, making my reflections richer and more layered.
AI-powered tools offer a structure for writing and creative projects, helping with pacing and avoiding burnout.
I’m thinking critically about AI’s role in film, theatre, and historical research, exploring its potential without overreliance on it.

Today marks the 50th Anniversary of my starting a diary. I was 13. It was a Five Year Diary. I filled that religious every day for the first three years, that filled years four and five over all the allocated lines before moving to a new Five Year Diary, where I soon found I had too much to write so once again took to filling two or three years worth of lines. In due course I moved to an A4 Notebook and wrote a page a day in that ... except for times when it got out of hand and I wrote several, even many pages for the day. At one point for a month I had a Arch Leaver File which I filled with ephemera like a scrapbook. That was September 1978. 

I'll be sowing prints during Art Wave in Brighton this May. I've started work on the design. It's likely to be Lewes Castle. Meanwhile I'm alerted to some trees with Tree Preservation Orders and head off across town to photograph them and submit my report - not great, one severely cut possibly 'notable' mature tree is a TPO.

Otherwise I was out to revisit Lewes Castle in winter to see how the sycamore look in silhouette. Much of the rest of the day was spent drawing various versions of this until my thinking went astray and I started to add goldfish and palm trees.

The end of year does this to me. 

I come into it with ideas to achieve a few things, change behaviours, get better, be better. 

I'm forever in my late 20s mentally so I don't give a flip about my age even if others do. There are roles and jobs for people in their 60s and 70s. Volunteer work is a pushover, but being a Town, District or County Councillor requires 'putting yourself out there' and in competitive seats being a 'known as a contributor and pragmatist who gets things done solving problems and dealing with challenges'. I can do this. I do this anyway. 

This can tie in with my interest in the environment and trees, an interest in 'youth' and sports development, my interest in the arts and the power and joy of creativity.

I could have been marking 15 years at the Open University. 

There's a story. We're just back from that part of the world ... almost. I could never have moved the family from our lovely Lewes in East Sussex to Milton Keynes, but we may have forged a new life in somewhere like Banbury. 

Another life, another time. All that counts is the next hour (the introduction to the Project Management Course I have signed up to on Coursera); the rest of the morning on some DIY in our leaky shed/workshop at the top of the garden; a woodland walk (if the rain stops), and hopefully some art (the large pen and ink drawing or relief print I am doing of Dover House, Barton on the Heath before making supper, watching a movie and settling down to a second reading of Ely Green's autobiography 'Too Black, Too White'.

And so a plan is made.