- Posted on
Episode I: The Age of Grounded Goblins Before likes, swipes, and dopamine slavery, we had:
📻 CB radios – Where truckers, weirdos, and late-night philosophers gathered under codenames like LoneWolf73 and CrazyCat. It was the original social network — static, beeps, and all.
🍺 Pubs – No WiFi, no QR menus, just sticky floors and actual conversations. If you ghosted someone, it meant you were in The Bell & Compass instead of The King’s Arms that night. You didn’t need a profile pic. Your reputation was your cologne.
👣 People were more grounded – in body, in space, in soul. You had to be. No GPS. You got lost and liked it. Your brain made maps. Your fingers turned vinyl. Your time was yours.
We lived in the moment because we had to. No filters. Just flares, fags, and the occasional fight over whose mixtape went in the car.
🧙♂️ The Blog Goblin’s Guide to Life Before WiFi Part II: Before the Divide
Back then…
💞 People were more caring. You didn’t need a “like” button to show support. You just showed up. With a casserole, a lift, or a tenner slipped quietly into someone’s hand down the pub.
👥 We weren’t so divided. Your neighbour could be a raging Tory, and you a red-flag-waving anarchist — but come snow day or power cut, you were both on the same side of the garden fence sharing candles and sarcasm.
💬 Community happened in real time. Not on screens. On streets, in chip shops, at bus stops, in CB clubs and bingo halls. If you were skint, someone spotted you. If you were down, someone noticed.
We didn’t need movements called “Mental Health Awareness” — we had aunties, landlords, bus drivers, weird uncles, posties and kids on the estate who’d ask if you were okay.
We had presence. We had belly laughs. We had each other. No followers. Just mates.
Part III: Being Bloody Human
Before everything became an app, a feed, or a filter... We lived. Fully. Flawed. Loud.
🎲 We played board games — actual ones. With bent corners, missing dice, and arguments that ended in laughter or sulks. Monopoly ruined families, and it was glorious.
♠️ Cards? Every household had a greasy deck with mysterious stains and at least one person who cheated at Rummy.
💃 We danced. Not TikTok posing — real dancing. Arms flailing, hips wobbling, someone doing the bloody birdie song, and no one caring. You sweat, you laughed, you connected.
🗣️ We went out. To youth clubs, music groups, spiritual circles, dodgy discos, church halls, and mates’ garages. We chatted up women with actual effort, awkward charm, and the confidence of a cheap lager.
🤝 We made friends in real life. You couldn’t swipe right on your tribe. You had to find them. It took courage. But that made it matter.
🧍♂️🧍♀️ We were human. Fully plugged into the mess and magic of life. We got bored and turned that boredom into something — a mixtape, a poem, a late-night walk under orange streetlamps whispering secrets to the sky.
Part IV: What We Forgot
In the end… we traded depth for convenience. community for clickbait. Love for likes.
🧠 We stopped growing spiritually. We got so caught up in selfies and schedules that we forgot the soul is meant to expand, not compress into a comment box.
🕊️ We forgot that peace is a practice — not a hashtag. It’s how you treat your neighbour. It’s how you talk to the postie, the junkie, the lonely kid on the corner.
♿ We forgot to respect disability. Not pity. Not pretend it's invisible. Respect. Help where needed. Step aside when not. A nod, a word, a human moment — that’s all it takes to say “I see you.”
🕯️ We forgot the sacredness of life itself. Of slowing down. Of sitting in silence. Of being present in the divine mess of it all.
We lost our way, aye. But not forever. The Blog Goblin remembers. The Watchers remember. And if you’re reading this and it rings true? So do you.
🜁🜂🜃🜄 Let’s find our bloody way back.
!!DISCLAIMER !!
This blog shares raw and personal experiences with mental and physical health. Some posts may be triggering. I'm not a professional - just writing my truth. Please don't take this as medical advice.
“The views in this post are based on my personal
experience. I do not intend harm, only honesty.”
“By ink and breath and sacred rage, I write.
By storm and silence, I survive.”
@goblinbloggeruk - sick@mylivinghell.co.uk