Yesterday I decided to find myself.

I have heard tell of people heading off to India or Morocco to “find themselves” but I decided to take the easy way out and do a drop of egosurfing.

I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was something to do with the Spring Equinox or maybe a passing moment of idleness or insanity but I stuck my name into Google. That’s something I haven’t done in years, but I wanted to see just how famous [or infamous] I was. After all, if any old classmates or old girlfriends were desperately trying to get in touch, the first thing they would do is stick my name in Google? That’s assuming of course that they can remember my name.

I don’t have a very common name such as John Smith or Pat Murphy, but neither do I have an uncommon one such as Heathcliff Ponsonby-Arsehole. I expected to find a few but 7,600,000? Really? Wow! I started scrolling.

I discovered that I have actually been knighted as a war hero amongst other things. I am a doctor many times over and am actually an active Anti-Smoker [which I find mildly amusing]. I lost count of the companies I run. I feature prominently in sport of various flavours but seem to have a particular fondness for the legal profession. In that vein I have also featured as a member of a family involved in a rather nasty murder.

I also discovered I have died. Many times. I died in the World Trade Centre amongst other places. My obituaries are all over the place. My latest death was only last week though I never felt it.

I decided to narrow the search a bit and added “book” to the search. Surely few of my previous and current incarnations would have written a book? Wrong! I’m also a prolific author with many titles under my belt and even one or two best-sellers.

The one thing I didn’t find was me.

I’m quite pleased with that. There is a trend amongst modern yoof to hanker for fame and “celebrity” status. This is an ambition that completely stumps me. In my day ambitions usually stretched to being an engine driver or a fireman. Now all they want is to be famous. They subject themselves to horrific and embarrassing television shows and stick up bland videos of themselves in the hopes they’ll be “discovered”. Give me anonymity any time.

So it appears I have achieved my anonymity. I am “under the radar”. I am “off-grid”. I am nobody and I am delighted. No one can find me.

Sadly that also includes all those past girlfriends who have since realised their mistake.