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About Bob W Christian

Bob W Christian has been writing poetry for more than 20 years. He started as a way to help to process his thoughts and emotions as an autistic man, and to address the impact of CPTSD. As he wrote, and slowly gained the confidence to share his poems, he was given incredibly positive feedback, which spurred him to write more. During that time, he has written six books, and had numerous guest publications in books and magazines around the world. His work has earned several accolades recently, including recognition in the Dark Poet’s Club 2025 competition. Alongside poetry, Bob enjoys photographing nature and birds, and is often praised for his keen eye behind the lens. (One of the official photographers Torbay Pride 26) A husband, father and grandfather, he regularly shares his observations, reflections and creative work through his personal blog, The Ramblings of Bob Christian.

We’ve Become Smarter… But Less Capable

What’s a skill you consider basic, that most people don’t actually know how to do?

Read a map.

Use a compass.

Administer basic first aid.

Look after yourself if things don’t go to plan.

In other words, the sort of skills many of us picked up through Scouts, the Cadets, the military, or simply from parents and grandparents who believed you should know how to do practical things.

It’s funny really.

We’ve got access to more information than any generation in history. We carry supercomputers in our pockets. We can ask AI almost any question imaginable and get an answer in seconds.

Yet many people would be completely lost—literally—if their phone battery died.

I remember when learning to read an Ordnance Survey map wasn’t unusual. You learned what the symbols meant, how contour lines worked and, if you were lucky, someone would hand you a compass and expect you to work out where you were.

There was no blue dot showing your location.

You had to think.

The same applies to first aid.

I’m always surprised by how few people know what to do when someone collapses, how to deal with a serious cut or even how to make someone comfortable until help arrives.

These aren’t specialist skills reserved for doctors or mountain rescue teams.

They’re simply useful.

Hopefully you’ll never need them.

But if you do, you’ll be very glad you learned them.

The same can be said for lighting a fire, putting up a shelter, purifying water or tying a decent knot. They’re not about preparing for the apocalypse; they’re about understanding the world around you and having the confidence to deal with it.

Looking back, I realise Scouts and later the Army taught me far more than outdoor skills.

They taught self-reliance.

Responsibility.

Teamwork.

The ability to stop, assess a situation and solve a problem without immediately reaching for someone else to fix it.

Perhaps that’s what concerns me most.

We’ve become brilliant at finding answers, but we’re losing the ability to work things out for ourselves.

Convenience is wonderful.

Technology is incredible.

Neither should replace capability.

There’s something reassuring about knowing that if the sat-nav stops working, you’ll still get home.

If someone gets hurt, you can help.

If circumstances change, you can adapt.

Those aren’t old-fashioned skills.

They’re timeless ones.

Maybe it’s time we started teaching them again.

Not because the world is becoming more dangerous.

But because capable people make stronger families, stronger communities and, ultimately, a stronger society.

And if, along the way, a few more young people discover the joy of getting gloriously lost with nothing more than a map, a compass and a bit of common sense…

…I don’t think that would be a bad thing at all

Stay safe 

Bc

Ten Years of Words, Thoughts and a Journey I Never Expected

Well, it turns out it’s my website’s birthday.

Ten years ago, I sat down and started building something from scratch. At the time, it was simply a place to put my thoughts, feelings and experiences into words — a way of making sense of the world around me after being diagnosed as Autistic. (Looking back it makes sense)

I don’t think, even in my wildest dreams, I could have imagined where that small beginning would lead me.

Ten years later, this little corner of the internet has become so much more than a website. It has become a place for connection, understanding and shared experiences. It has allowed me to tell my story, to open conversations, and to hopefully help others feel a little less alone on their own journeys.

When I first started writing, I had no idea who would read my words or where they would take me. I certainly never imagined that so many people would come along for the ride, follow my journey and offer their support along the way.

For that, I am truly grateful.

To everyone who has read a blog post, shared a story, sent a message, offered encouragement or simply taken the time to understand — thank you. Your support has meant more than you probably realise. Every interaction has been a reminder that sharing our experiences can create connections that we never expected.

Of course, there is one person who deserves a very special thank you: Mrs Bob.

Behind the scenes, she has been my constant support throughout this entire journey. She has written, proofread, made phone calls, helped shape my thoughts and, most importantly, been my neurotypical whisperer when I’ve needed someone to help translate my way of seeing the world.

She has worked tirelessly alongside me, often without recognition, and I honestly couldn’t have reached this point without her.

Looking back over these ten years, I realise this website has been a record of growth, discovery and acceptance. It has captured moments of frustration, joy, learning and everything in between.

The journey hasn’t always been straightforward, but it has always been mine.

So, on this tenth birthday, I’m not just celebrating a website. I’m celebrating the conversations started, the friendships made, the lessons learned and the incredible community that has grown around it.

Thank you for being part of my journey.

Here’s to the next chapter.

Bob

Stay safe

Bc

Ps here’s that first post I put out…

https://bob-christian.com/2016/07/31/hello/

Everything Happens… But Not Always for a Reason

Do you think everything happens for a reason?

“Everything happens for a reason.”

It’s one of those phrases that usually arrives just after something awful has happened.

Someone loses a loved one.

A relationship ends.

A diagnosis turns life upside down.

And almost without thinking, someone says it.

“Everything happens for a reason.”

I know it’s usually meant kindly.

It’s an attempt to comfort.

To make sense of chaos.

To reassure us that the universe hasn’t completely lost the plot.

But I’ve never been entirely comfortable with it.

Not because I think life is meaningless.

Far from it.

I think the problem lies in what we mean by reason.

If by “reason” we mean that every tragedy was deliberately planned by some higher power—that every child who becomes ill, every war, every act of cruelty was intentionally designed as part of some grand blueprint—then I struggle with that idea.

Not because I lack faith in mystery.

But because it asks us to believe that unimaginable suffering was somehow necessary.

I’m not convinced.

There’s another way of looking at it, though.

Perhaps “reason” doesn’t mean purpose.

Perhaps it simply means cause.

Everything that happens has causes and conditions.

A tree doesn’t fall because the universe chose that exact tree.

It falls because roots weaken, soil shifts, fungi grow unseen beneath the surface, and eventually gravity finishes the conversation.

Human lives are much the same.

Who we become isn’t usually shaped by one dramatic moment.

It’s thousands of tiny moments.

The family we’re born into.

The kindnesses we receive.

The wounds we carry.

The books we read.

The strangers we meet.

The mistakes we survive.

Each one nudges us ever so slightly until, years later, we look in the mirror and wonder how on earth we became this particular version of ourselves.

That’s not destiny.

That’s cause and effect.

In many ways it’s far more fascinating.

It also reminds us that our own actions become part of someone else’s chain of causes.

A smile offered to a stranger.

A harsh word spoken in anger, to the driver that cut you up.

A poem that reaches someone on exactly the day they needed it.

None of these things happen in isolation.

They ripple.

Sometimes far further than we’ll ever know.

Perhaps that’s why I try to choose kindness whenever I can.

Not because I think it’ll magically make the universe reward me.

But because every action adds another thread to the web we’re all helping to weave.

Life isn’t always fair.

Bad things happen to good people.

Good things happen to difficult people.

And sometimes there isn’t an answer that satisfies us.

But there are always causes.

Always choices.

Always consequences.

Maybe that’s enough.

So no…

I don’t believe everything happens for a reason.

But I do believe everything happens because of reasons.

And understanding the difference might just change the way we understand ourselves.

Stay safe,

Bc

One Was Always Enough.

What’s your biggest dream?

When I first started this website and began yelling into the void that is the internet, I had one dream.

Not a book deal.

Not a viral post.

Not thousands of followers hanging on every badly punctuated sentence.

Just one person.

If something I wrote found its way into the right hands, at the right time, and nudged someone towards hope instead of despair, kindness instead of bitterness, or courage instead of fear, then I reckoned the whole experiment would have been worth it.

That was the dream.

The internet has a funny way of making us believe that numbers are everything. Views. Likes. Shares. Subscribers. As though the value of a thought is measuredby the size of the crowd listening.

I’ve never been convinced.

History is full of quiet conversations that changed lives, while the loudest voices were forgotten before the ink had dried.

Over the years, I’ve had a few messages from strangers. from people who stumbled across a poem, or one of my rambling posts at exactly the moment they needed it.

“Thank you.”

Those messages mean more than you’ll ever know.

Because every single one reminds me that words still matter.

Not because they’re mine, but because honest words have a peculiar habit of finding the people they’re meant to find.

If anything I’ve written has helped you laugh when life felt heavy, think when the world demanded outrage, or believe that tomorrow might just be a little brighter than today, then you’ve given me something far greater than any statistic ever could.

You’ve allowed this grumpy old poet to live beyond his original dream.

So thank you.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for sharing the journey.

And thank you for reminding me that even when it feels like we’re all shouting into the void, sometimes the void quietly whispers back.

Stay safe

Bc

A Seat at Bilbo’s Table

If you could have dinner with any fictional character, who would it be?

I’d choose Bilbo Baggins.

Not because he’s the greatest hero in Middle-earth, but because I suspect dinner with Bilbo wouldn’t really be dinner at all. It would begin with breakfast, roll effortlessly into elevenses, pause for luncheon, continue with afternoon tea, become dinner somewhere around sunset, and conclude with supper long after everyone sensible had gone to bed.

And somehow, none of it would feel rushed.

There is something wonderfully appealing about people who understand that meals are about more than food. They’re about conversation, laughter, stories, and the gift of time shared with others. In a world that seems determined to make everything faster, Bilbo reminds us that some things are worth lingering over.

Of course, the stories would be extraordinary.

Not because Bilbo set out to become a hero.Quite the opposite. He was happiest in his comfortable hobbit hole with a full pantry and an empty diary. Yet when adventure came knocking—rather persistently, if I remember correctly—he chose to answer.

That’s one of the reasons I’ve always liked Bilbo. He wasn’t fearless. He wasn’t looking for glory. He simply discovered that courage isn’t the absence of comfort; it’s the willingness to leave comfort behind when something greater calls.

I imagine the stories would become less about dragons, dwarves, and treasure, and more about the people he met, the mistakes he made, the friendships he formed, and how unexpected journeys have a habit of changing us in ways we never anticipated.

Gandalf would undoubtedly make fascinating company, but I suspect I’d spend the whole evening trying to keep up with him. Bilbo, on the other hand, would probably refill my plate, pour another cup of tea, and quietly remind me that the most memorable evenings aren’t always the most dramatic.

Sometimes they’re simply spent around a table with good food, honest conversation, and someone who has learned that the greatest adventures often begin with an unexpected invitation.

I’d happily accept that invitation.

After all, there’s always time for one more cup of tea.

Stay safe

Bc

Sunday snaps

This week I’ve been practicing my macro photography, and it’s been mainly Bees. Firstly is a type of wasp (I think) called a YellowJacket.The Bumblebee pics are from the lavender in the garden, it’s a popular spot.

Yellowjacket
Bumblebee
Bumblebee

The Most Dangerous Trend We Ever Normalised.

If you could erase one trend from history, what would it be?

If I could erase one trend from history, it wouldn’t be a fashion trend, or pineapple on pizza (although I know some of you are already sharpening your pitchforks).

It would be greed.

Not ambition.

Not success.

Not the desire to build something meaningful.

Greed.

Because there comes a point where wealth stops being about security and starts becoming about accumulation for accumulation’s sake.

We now live in a world where some individuals possess wealth measured in hundreds of billions of pounds, and we’re rapidly approaching the day someone will officially be recognised as a trillionaire. Meanwhile, millions of people struggle to afford food, heating or somewhere safe to live.

That should make us all pause for thought.

No single individual creates that amount of value alone.

Every successful business is built upon workers who turn up every day, customers who buy the products, publicly funded schools that educated the workforce, roads that transport goods, healthcare that keeps people healthy enough to work, and legal systems that protect commerce.

Success is rarely a solo achievement.

When one person accumulates more wealth than entire countries, I don’t see a triumph of capitalism.

I see a system that has drifted badly out of balance.

Because the truth is, wealth on that scale often relies upon underpaid labour, aggressive tax avoidance, monopolistic behaviour, and extracting far more from society than is ever returned.

That isn’t innovation.

It’s imbalance.

But greed isn’t confined to bank balances.

It quietly slips into the way we judge each other.

Some people decide another person’s worth by the clothes they wear.

Others by the car they drive.

The size of their house.

The colour of their skin.

Their accent.

Their country of origin.

Or the number on their payslip.

Surely we’ve learned by now that none of those things tell us anything meaningful about the character of the person standing in front of us.

The question shouldn’t be, “How much are they worth?”

It should be, “What do they contribute?”

Do they help others?

Do they make their community a little better?

Do they show kindness when nobody is watching?

Can they work alongside people with different backgrounds towards a common goal?

Those things matter.

Always have.

Always will.

History has shown us time and again that societies flourish when they value cooperation over division, compassion over prejudice, and contribution over consumption.

Perhaps if we spent a little less time admiring wealth, and a little more time admiring decency, we’d all be richer in the ways that actually matter.

Stay safe

Bc

When Mail Call Meant Everything.

Which outdated technology do you miss the most, and why?

The answer may surprise you, because it isn’t an old gadget or a forgotten piece of kit.

It’s letters.

Not because I’m against email. Far from it. Email is brilliant at what it does. It’s instant, searchable and gets the job done. When Adam from HR or Tom from Accounts needs last quarter’s numbers by 3pm, you don’t reach for a fountain pen and a sheet of A4.

But somewhere along the way, convenience quietly replaced something much more personal.

I joined the Army in the 1990s, before smartphones, social media and the internet became part of everyday life. Back then, one of the biggest highlights of the week was mail call.

It wasn’t just about hearing your name.

It was knowing that someone had sat down, found the time, and written to you. Every envelope was different. Different handwriting. Different paper. Sometimes there were photographs folded inside. Sometimes childish drawings. Sometimes a pressed flower, a train ticket or some other little keepsake that meant nothing to anyone else but everything to you.

And then there were the things technology still can’t replicate.

You can’t spray an email with her favourite perfume.

You can’t instantly recognise who’s written before you’ve even opened it because of the handwriting on the envelope.

And you certainly don’t get the entertainment of trying to decipher handwriting so spectacularly bad it needs its own translator.

A letter had character. It had imperfections. It had fingerprints, creases and coffee stains. It had travelled hundreds or even thousands of miles before it landed in your hands.

An email arrives exactly as it left.

A letter arrives with a story.

I still have letters tucked away in boxes that are over thirty years old. Every now and then I’ll stumble across one, unfold it and be transported straight back to that moment. I can’t say the same for emails buried somewhere in an inbox with 1,800 unread messages.

Technology has given us incredible ways to stay connected. We can video call someone on the other side of the world in seconds. We can send photos instantly. We can share our lives in real time.

That’s progress, and I wouldn’t want to lose it.

But I do think we’ve sacrificed a little of the human touch in the process.

Sometimes the slow way was the better way.

Not because it was more efficient, but because it reminded us that the person on the other end had invested something you can’t download or automate.

Time.

And perhaps that’s the bit of old technology I miss the most.

Stay safe

Bc

We Did This In Eighteen Minutes

The Earth has been writing her story
for around four and a half billion years.

Mountains have risen,
oceans have learned the language of the moon,
forests have breathed in silence,
and life has patiently rehearsed
every possible way
to exist.

Then we arrived.

If all that time
were folded neatly
into a single year,

humanity
wouldn’t appear in January,
or July,
or even Christmas morning.

We would step onto the stage
with barely eighteen minutes
until midnight.

Eighteen minutes.

That’s all we’ve needed
to crown ourselves kings
of a kingdom
we didn’t build.

We point at our cities,
our satellites,
our machines that reach beyond the stars,
and call it progress.

Yet somehow,
the hands clever enough
to map distant galaxies
still struggle
to protect the soil
beneath their own feet.

We’ve spent fortunes
looking for another world
while treating this one
like somewhere we’re only passing through.

In those eighteen minutes,
entire voices
have fallen silent.

Species that survived
ice ages,
volcanoes,
asteroids,
have not survived us.

Every extinction
is another verse
removed from Earth’s oldest song.

And still,
the forests whisper.

The rivers remember.

The wind carries warnings
we keep mistaking
for background noise.

Hotter summers.

Stronger storms.

Longer droughts.

Skies that burn.

The planet isn’t seeking revenge.

She’s showing us
the consequence
of forgetting
that we belong to her,
not the other way around.

But this isn’t the end
unless we decide it is.

Because every generation
inherits a pen.

Some use it
to sign away tomorrow.

Others
write a different future.

Every tree planted.
Every river restored.
Every choice made
with something beyond ourselves in mind
becomes another sentence
in a story worth continuing.

Perhaps our eighteen minutes
will not be remembered
for how quickly we conquered,

but for the moment
we finally understood

that the greatest measure
of intelligence
was never how far
we could travel from Earth—

it was whether we learned
how to stay.

(c)BobChristian