In the UK we know it by the more utilitarian name of caving but, while I’d much rather fill my life with colour than color, spelunking is a word I’d be glad for the mother tongue to appropriate.

I thought of that word because I was thinking about looking back through the hundreds of blog entries I have built up over time. I have been an almost-daily blogger for about a decade and that adds up to a lot of posts. Many of them are short or relatively inconsequential (see yesterday!): drip, drip, drip but over time, like an underground cave, fascinating patterns are formed.

Blogging is inevitably an incomplete record. Not everything belongs in the public domain, even if there was time to write and publish it all. However, it spins a web that can connect me with many other people. It provides a set of credentials for those who want to check out who I am, within the scope of what I have chosen to present. And, with the memories stored in my wetware neurons, it is a fascinating cave of stalagmites and stalactites, ringing with resonance and colour, for me to venture back into from time to time.