I used to be a Luddite.or at least I did when it came to the digital world. I'd progressed through my career without the need to tweet or blog - such narcissistic behaviour, I used to think. And then I realised I had adopted that attitude out of sheer terror! I was scared of putting my views and (lack of) technological prowess under any form of scrutiny. I'm no Stephen Fry (and frankly don't have his free time!) so why would anyone care about my moans, views and gems of wisdom? On first pondering blogging I considered the cowardly approach of doing so anonymously. But I soon realised I'd wind myself up even more than usual if I did that. If I thought I had something to say then I should have the guts to put my name to it. Simple. But I've finally decided to buy into the digital diary because of my grandparents, who've been decades in their graves. In the weeks leading up to Christmas 2013 I found myself in the unexpected position of being back home in Wales in the bosom of my family. Thinking it would cheer me up, my Mam encouraged me to go through my very own 'archive' of personal letters and diaries, written throughout my childhood and time at University. When I say archive, we're not talking anything to rival that of Tony Benn (though my Grandfather would always tell anyone who'd listen that I shared the honour of studying at the same College as his and my political hero!) And neither will the National Archive need to find any space for my missives. But looking back over notes gone by helped me realise that the stories and memories, dreams and anxieties that rested between the musky pages of my childhood diaries (pocket money duly spent every Saturday on stationary at Woolworths) might be emulated again in a digital world. Blogging might not be as wholesome or Anne of Green Gables-like as writing letters back home from College (in response to the sweet ones from my Nana, written in her best script, and always accompanied with a ten pound note sellotaped to the envelope "to buy something nice") but it's way cheaper than the cost of a first class stamp these days. So I've decided to indulge myself in the world of the blogger, so that if there's ever another time when I feel the like wrapping myself in the warmth of people who care about me, I'll be able to read, on my tablet or smartphone (or whatever Will.i.am-inspired gadget I might own someday) the words of inspiration/nonsense/judgment I deem worthy of tapping out late at night. As I enter my 40th year - twenty after saying goodbye to the grandparents who always made me feel that anything I said or did was indeed worth sharing, I think I've found my justification to blog. So I'm embracing the future. After all, I can no longer spend my pocket money on orange note books from Woolworths, so digital it must be.