Aside from holidays, one distraction from writing is the allure of YouTube.
When I switch on the desktop and begin to plan or flesh out a new post, YouTube accidentally opens a time travel doorway to the past.
My addiction to time travel began at the turn of the century, with the purchase of my first home computer.
I don't care what science says; I'll check that out in more detail sometime.
I love meditating because it has helped me develop a calmer outlook on life.
I explored meditation for mental health reasons following my late father's cancer diagnosis. Eleven years later, and I still practice.
My brother-in-law took over his childhood property after it lay empty for a year.
Gone were the animals, visitors, and home cooking in the oven. No windows lit at night.
I still remember my first visit to meet Rita's parents. I recall being surprised at how humble the home appeared — a simple kitchen with a stove and decor reminiscent of the 1970s.
When a relationship breaks down, we tend to question ourselves.
We relive mistakes and ask for another chance. Sometimes we get a second chance, only to regret going back.
That's how it was with #Twitter.
I thought about burning my childhood photographs.
The incineration in a garden fire would be a symbolic gesture to rid me of the child who, for years, influenced my personality.
My younger self lacked confidence, preferred being alone and lived too long in daydreams.
But as I travelled through time with each photograph, I decided not to punish the poor boy.
I can't believe love is simply a matter of choice, of ticking the checkboxes of compatibility.
In the olden times, when colleagues used to sit together in a big open office, my colleague and friend, Paula, was shocked to hear I began a relationship with my wife by asking her out on a date.
Though it was more than a date; it was a holiday.
I feel for people desperate to return to their offices to work.
Is life terrible enough that the commute, city streets and noisy environment, appeal more than working from home?
Work is an activity, not a destination – Unknown
In preparation for our kitchen revamp, I explored the deep recesses of our cupboards. Inside the darkened corners lay utensils unseen for twenty years.
In a similar vein, my #iPhone has accumulated vast sums of unused apps. When I first bought an iPhone in 2010, I spent late nights surfing the app store to see what I could find.
Doodle Jump and the spirit level are long gone.
Still, with 76 apps, I'm about to embark on a serious declutter. But some apps make life that bit easier.
Some colleagues attempted to cancel a presentation I arranged with senior medical advisors.
When I read their email, a red mist descended.