I sat down to type about books and saw Kathryn’s post about a chair and immediately changed direction. I have a favourite chair and it is just right for me. I came across it in a furniture shop long ago and had to have it. I bought it and paid for it and waited for it to be made.

The chair is colourful and comfy. The wings are not pronounced which is a plus as I can’t lean my head against them – leaning my head against people and objects is sometimes tricky due to the ever-present hearing aids in my ears.

I love sitting in my chair and a year or two later, the company produced a matching foot stool and I was in heaven. It’s a lovely spot to sit and read, with bookcases beside, or watch tv, or sip a whisky.

The view from the chair down the wall is of some of my favourite books….including Trixie Belden in the distance. On the opposite wall is a print of a Cezanne that dad picked up at an exhibition long, long ago. He used to have it stuck on the wall. After he died, I had it framed properly and I love staring into it, studying and dwelling in the unfinished village.

I am ruminating on Con’s entry yesterday and not sure I quite have the words yet. A familiar space has gone and I’m not sure if it’s me or the space. I commented on an absence of conversational engagement but that’s not quite right and I want to say some sort of silo-ing but I am unclear where the silos are, or even if they’re generational of sorts.

10 years ago, 15 years ago, perhaps more, there was the fun of the new and a large bunch of folk all trying out new things together. It started out slow: 1 then a few, then a few more, then at some point or other it hit critical mass. It seemed to be cross generational and by generational perhaps I mean to say cohorts or tribes rather than age specific as groups picked up and came on board.

Newgrad stuff took off too. None of those original bunches are newgrad anymore: some are mid career, some top career, some retired, some moved on entirely. Twitter is sort of a bunch of familiar faces with occasional new folk but nothing revolutionary.

Perhaps the wave of social media excitement has crested and folk are tired. Then again, #blogjune seemed to start initially as a means to revitalisation. Recognition then, that we were falling off. The number of friends I have on facebook doesn’t change a lot whereas twitter is more public with chopping and changing. I keep trying instagram but it lacks traction for me. I initiate stuff on facebook but mostly respond on twitter. 2-3 forums seems to be about my limit.

Other folk do other things. Perhaps we now are the “old folk”, “old guard”, the folk we railed against and our approaches are less relevant. Perhaps we didn’t rail at all and that was a convenient ploy. An aspect of me and who I am is the struggle to easily establish new friends; friending people takes years. Perhaps that limits my ability to engage these days.

We are more careful these days, watching what we say, what we do. Comments in jest can be misconstrued, quoted out of context later. Everybody is in our spaces now, everything recorded. It’s tricky to find the right size space; a space sufficiently large for conversations by multiple players but not too large that conversations get drowned out and forgotten. Large enough to have a flow of people without being a quickly flowing river.

The fun has gone, but habits of community and communication remain. I have been here before. I had a decade or so swept up in the glories of usenet for online discussion across the late 80s and 90s. Then there was a pause for a while and then social media and public access took off. Different people for different times.

Perhaps pauses are natural as we stroll.

What even does that look like? Saw a post from a friend pondering retirement, future and planning and it’s a space I occasionally wonder about and whether I could indeed afford to retire. If I did retire what would I do, what is life like without the job I have.

Privilege blah blah blah plays a part in this conversation of course. I’m almost 53 and I have a good job and own a flat with mortgage paid off. My super is ok but not fab, previous jobs paid much lower and a decade as a professional student barely paid at all. I cannot envisage retiring; I like my work and remain passionate for it and the industry I work in. If I stop working I’d probably have to stop buying pretty books – on the other hand, I have plenty to read.

Post 65 is a tricky space as my dad died at 65 while working fulltime and doing a PhD part time. Mum did retire but her final years were physically painful with athritis and osteo. My oldest grandparent (great-gran actually) died at 93 and I suspect they had some form of dementia. I sort of figure my life expectancy probably maxes out at around 80.

I joke about wanting gaming consoles in the nursing home but wonder if I’ll be coordinated enough to play them.

I’m happy enough now though thinking about the future a little. I find comparing myself to others an exercise in anxiety and ultimately different people have different needs and different lives. There isn’t a one size fits all in this conversation. I don’t want a lot of things but I don’t want to end up homeless either.

Still at 52, I am happily surprised to find myself in a satisfying job doing things I love and associating with interesting people.

Slept in. Cocooned in the doona. Odd dreams about living and working from home in the outer burbs yet somehow some combo of Barcelona/Rome/New York was a 10 minute walk away with a grand central style train station. A large place with a spooky cellar. An itinerant chap was living in the cellar. Was spooky initially but we chatted and I was fine with him living there. A big backyard and I had no idea how to mow it. It seemed to be a temporary place; all my stuff was in the other house with my partner and we’d spend weekends together. There was some sort of techerie that needed addressing somewhere. The house was empty yet there was a wheelchair in a spare room.

It reads a little like the start of a horror story, yet felt relaxed and comfy.

Had a late brekky and there’s something about a 1pm brekky on a sunlit afternoon with shadows stretching away. I hit a mental moment of relaxation…happy thinking on things and ideas and directions. The travel section of the paper had a nice suggestion for a place to stay in Stanley, Tas. We may visit Stanley and that may work…or perhaps we’ll stay in Burnie – a few days in Burnie and a few in Launceston. Perhaps a distillery visit. Quiet towns and walking. Dunno. A nice dinner in Launceston would be good and there’s interesting options.

Bought more Zooom today. So so good.

Blogging without blogging about work is a little tricky. Work is such a large part of me and what I do and often what I like to do. But blogging about work requires caution – I don’t mean that in a sinister way. Work is an institution and things are known and unknown. I don’t do a lot in public spaces, my work is more back room, supporting those in the patron facing spaces.

Most of my work conversations are with staff or with suppliers, there’s not a lot of reason for me to talk to non library people. What I do is a mix of spreadsheets and budgets and stats and tech and negotiations and planning and preparing and exploring and evaluating. Talking about my work needs to steer a path away from selling my work I think.