Confined to barracks

Last month while preparing to take a short break in Dorset, I started to feel, as my mother would say: ‘Not myself today’. Days later, after developing severe vertigo my doctor diagnosed benign paroxysmal positiinal vertigo. BPPV is fairly common with treatment necessitating having one’s head bent backwards over the edge of the examination table and then jerked to the left and right.

With more details about the health of a senior citizen than is probably judicious, we come to the kernel of this post.

When I started out CabbieBlog I had envisaged putting opinions and knowledge (yes, it’s that word again) over to anyone who felt it necessary to imagine themselves sitting in the back of a cab.

Now nearly one-and-a-half decades later, and finding myself with time on my hands due to my enforced rest, the result of the aforementioned medical condition, it’s given me the opportunity to formulate the direction, or life, of the blog in the New Year.

In the past, I’ve rejected the idea of daily postings as this cuts into life in the ‘real world’, the same reason I steer clear of interaction on social media.

Since its inception, CabbieBlog has been careful to avoid religion and politics – with the exception taken of today’s London Mayor – as this tends to bring out the trolls from inside their cubby holes. However, any genuinely insightful comments are always given the courtesy of a reply.

Looking over the bric-a-brac of writings I’m surprised at its range, although it’s mostly London history and nothing about sport. I’ve always been annoyed by people assuming I know about football.

Slightly inebriated passenger: (cheerfully) So who’s going to win the big match on Sky Sports tonight?

Me: (tetchy, after a bad day) I don’t know, or care, but who do you think is going to win Portrait Artist of the Year on Sky Arts?

However, blogging has taught me a lot.

First, never assume. Readership is diverse and surprising. The median age is almost certainly older for the blog than among my Twitter readers (hence me not interacting with my followers), but is more far-reaching. It has been a brilliant sounding board for ideas, but I feel I’ve run a rather shambolic but democratic exchange of ideas about London and its environs.

Second, answer with thought. Readers have every right to ask difficult questions and deserve respectful and considered answers.

Third, listen to the young, assuming anyone under 40 reads my missives.

And fourth, above all, keep learning. There’s rarely a day when a reader doesn’t teach me something. We cabbies might be, as I’ve described on @johnsonslondon: An accumulation of local information which doth give one granted the illusion of superior powers and wisdom.

But we can still accumulate more knowledge.

Having BPPV left me feeling inebriated, and as everyone knows when they’re pi**ed they think of the best ideas. So after much thought, from the new year, CabbieBlog will get two extra postings a week, making content uploaded 7 days a week.

Well, like much dreamt up while less than compos mentis, the ‘new’ two posts are, in fact, hardly unique to CabbieBlog. Thursday will see the return of Whinge of the Week, but rest assured it won’t be an old man repeating his grumbles.

While on Saturday an item brilliantly titled Previously Posted will be available. It’s not new content but I guess that most of my regular visitors haven’t read, or maybe they were just not interested in reading work composed over 10 years ago.

Only time will tell, insightful comments to the usual address.

Monday: London in Quotations
Tuesday: London Miscellany
Wednesday: Johnson’s London
Thursday: The Weekly Whinge
Friday: London Miscellany
Saturday: Previously Posted
Sunday: London Trivia


3 thoughts on “Confined to barracks”

  1. Sounds like a good plan. I have had Vertigo for a few years now. It is worse some days than others, and I cannot lie on my back, go up ladders, or lookd down for a long time. The GP tried the Eply Manouvre you describe, but it failed to work on me. So I just live with it.
    Cheers, Pete.


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