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I think the obsession with newsletters is obscuring the bigger story: that the growing prevalence of publishing platforms with built-in member support is going to change the dynamics of publishing over the next 10 years — and more than we expect.

While pulling together this list of weekend reading I remember thinking how often I was linking to Substack in it.

And then I remembered feeling the same about Medium a few years ago.

This too, shall pass, and the web will endure.

Anyone else using a Mac found that their rate of genuine emails filtered to spam has shot up in recent months?

I think my daughters might be prematurely middle-aged:

Two girls chilling out in camping chairs.

Sometimes it’s amply clear that these are chalk downs:

People climbing up the steps to Cissbury Ring.

There’s a metaphor here about nature and technology…

An overgrown, rusted cable telephone sign in Shoreham-by-Sea

Up and at ‘em early this morning for a last pass on a really interesting research report I’m editing.

Spring really came to Shoreham-by-Sea, yesterday. I took advantage of the lockdown easing to have a bonus lunchtime walk.

A boat floating in the Adur.St Mary de Haura’s east elevation in Shoreham-by-SeaLooking towards East Street from the churchyard of St Mary de Haura.Trees and daffodils in the churchyard of St Mary de Haura.

M1 MBPro life:

“Right, I’ll just send this video over to Compressor to render out while I make a cup of coffee and …

“…oh, it’s done.”

I do like to get down and dirty with a server once in a while:

Updating Ghost from the terminal

Today seems to be a 5/10/15 years ago day:

  • Medium pivots and seeks to reduce editorial staff? 2016!
  • Should employed journalists have their own newsletters? Twitter accounts in 2011, blogs in 2006.

We’re trapped in some kind of eternal media hell loop.

This, from @colinwalker, is what so many people miss about blogging at its best:

There is no truly right way to blog but there is a best way, one that connects our words to those of others, that shares as much as it borrows such that we are all the richer for it.

A rare moment

A window in Emerald Quay, Shoreham-by-Sea

Yesterday morning, I did something I’ve never had the chance to do in the last eight years: I lay in bed for a while and just looked out of the window. The girls had been into our room, and Iris had, rather cheekily, opened the curtains. They were back playing quietly in their own room, so there was no rush for us to be up. There was nowhere we needed to (virtually) be. Nothing was pressing.

So, I lay there while my wife dozed, and watched seagulls soar in the thermals above the buildings around.

And it was good.