Two years ago, if you’d wanted to access any of my online accounts, you probably wouldn’t have struggled. Rampant password reuse. Weak, low-entropy passwords. No two-factor authentication. I was an easy target.

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A little over six years ago, aged eighteen, I took my girlfriend to Paris for our one-year anniversary. It was the first time I’d made my own travel plans, and since then I’ve visited over twenty countries and forty cities, before returning earlier this week.

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“Good things come to those who wait.” Not a phrase that I’ve really lived by thus far. I always tend to take the immediate gratification route, rather than investing heavily in my future self. Screw him, he can deal with it when it gets to him.

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Each Saturday morning for the past couple of months, Charlie and I have taken the tram and then the train to Livingston to attend his puppy training classes. The hours after we get home, when he curls up next to me and goes to sleep, is the only quiet time I get all week.

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One of the unexpected joys of minimalism is that I no longer own anything that isn’t my favourite. After getting rid of the excess, the duplicates, the lower value versions of all of my possessions, I was left with (in my opinion) the best of everything. It’s easier to enjoy things when they’re your favourite.

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When I was younger, I had a slightly unhealthy obsession with not letting go of old things. Material possessions, things I found at the back of a wardrobe that I didn’t even remember, I wouldn’t throw them out. I come from a family of borderline hoarders, so it’s not really a big surprise I grew up with this mentality.

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