I’ve just received notice that my subscription will automatically renew in 30 days, it will cost me £46 for another year (15% if I pay up front for two years). The cost is not a problem for me, unlike my friend Charlotte who writes The Poor Side Of Life. I’ve occasionally chipped in to help her continue writing. I want to start writing on Substack, which I think will allow more opportunity to collaborate whilst retaining our individual identities, but I haven’t learned how to write directly to Substack. I’ve imported some blogs from WordPress (but not this one) so I may need to keep my subscription for that reason.

I had intended my first Substack post to be a rewrite of my first blog post on WordPress, which originated as a direct message to a group of friends on Twitter to tell them something about myself. That was 10 years ago and my circle of friends and comrades has grown, so there’s a lot to tell. Just for now I’ll relate my present situation.

I will turn 76 before New Year, riddled with arthritis and quite reclusive outside social media. I’ve been estranged with my family for much longer than I’ve been on social media but have been reconciled with my eldest sister who has recently informed me that our mother is dying at the age of 96 and would like to see me. Barbara lives in Norfolk and her husband is older than I am so they can’t drive all the way to Yorkshire, but I have two sisters living closer. What they don’t realise is that I’ve never learned to drive and it’s very painful for me to even walk into the village.

I’ve always been a bit of a loner, my Lakota name Mani Isna La literally translates as He Walks Alone, but that’s not quite the same as being antisocial. The reason I returned from Australia in 1998 was that, with no children of my own I wanted to get to know my nephews and nieces while they were growing up but I was disappointed – the eldest is a grandfather himself now! The onus is still on me to stay in touch, although they know how to contact me if they wish to do so, and I have to think of my own mental health.

Now that I’ve got that off my chest (it needed to be done) let’s get back to my presence on social media. I built up a following largely by promoting petitions and sharing articles on various subjects I care about, #SocialistSunday has helped although I already had a substantial following before I became involved. We’re building a network, but mostly talking to each other – I almost despair of reaching out to others who most need to hear what we have to say but we can’t stay silent!

I’m trying to find my own voice and I have plenty of encouragement to do more writing, but that also requires a lot of reading. So many of my blogs are quite personal because most of the contemporary topics have been adequately covered by more established writers. I have definite proof that bigots won’t read my blogs, they’re not interested in the truth. https://x.com/mikecoulson48/status/1698596952366010845?s=61&t=IZiTSaiaMOgVGPIMX2DC

That won’t stop me saying what I have to say as long as I have a voice, people with louder voices are being arrested and and even murdered. All I, and most of you, have to fear is that the media and even the language we use to communicate is being distorted beyond recognition. We can’t afford to give in to despair. I’ve been losing a lot of followers on Twitter/X lately, I might gain half a dozen new followers in a day and lose 100. That’s likely because so many people are abandoning the platform for Bluesky.

A group of friends and I have started following each other on Bluesky but I won’t be quitting Twitter/X just yet. It takes time to build up a following but this gives me a start, my username is @maniisnala.bsky.social

All I have left to say is that I’ve survived personal crises before and will continue to do so. I’ve survived drowning, attempted murder, and a self-afflicted overdose of paracetamol. I’ve frequently felt that I didn’t care whether I lived or died, but when confronted with the possibility I fought back! I’m not afraid of death, it’s the dying I’m afraid of, and that’s what my mother is suffering right now! I dunno if there’s another life after this one, and I promise not to come back to tell you when I find out!

I refuse to accept Pascha’s Wager: It’s better to believe in God because the cost of being wrong is internal damnation. A god who grants us free will but condemns us for exercising it is not one I can worship. My conscience is the sole judge of my morality, and I exercise it without fear or favour from any authority in this life or a putative next one.

I will do what I believe to be the right thing, I’ve made mistakes and paid for them in one way or another. I’m too old to change, I continue walking my own path!