When I posted the first entry in this Electronic Journal on 2 January 1996, I had no idea that, nearly four and a half years later, I'd still be writing. And I certainly had no clear idea that I would no longer be living and working in London.
Yet here I am. Resident in Pemberton, outside Wigan. Working in central Liverpool. Employed through the University.
There are all sorts of resonances from the past. The parents of my first, proper girlfriend, Sarah, were both lecturers at Liverpool University. This is now the fifth time that I've worked in the centre of Liverpool. The building I work out of used to be the Royal Liverpool Infirmary and a number of my mum's family were sick there in times gone by.
And, although there are ghosts walking the streets alongside me (much as there were in the first few weeks of my time at UCL when I would occasionally see myself as a student some 20 years previous), I'm approaching all of this in a very different frame of mind.
For a start, I really am no longer in love with Liverpool. It strikes me as being dirty, dilapidated and tawdry. The faces of so many of the people are sallow and pasty through lack of wholesome nourishment. The clothes of so many are dull through so much washing. The pavements are cracked and broken. The amenities are few and far between.
Oh, I'm sure that I shall begin to fit back in and Roland was quick to defend our joint birth city when I spoke with him on the phone by telling me that there have been enormous improvements. Yet, the poverty and grinding long term depression are apparent for anyone with eyes to see. In truth, I don't know that I want to fit back in - at all.
So, I arrived first day at the front desk and began the induction process. By the end of the day, I had
In other words, it was a typical first day in any job.
I was glad to hear Ross's voice on the end of the telephone that evening.