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From a new life in spain, to an old life in britain, 'roaming brit' documents uncertain times!

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On 31st January 2016, my partner and I left Southampton to start a new life as Expats in Gran Alacant, on the Costa Blanca. This blog will document our journey, as we navigate the Spanish system, travelling a path untried and untested. With Brexit looming, political turmoil in Europe, and an unpredictable future, harsh decisions must be made. Illness, family bonds, and a Change of heart all make for challenging times in the life of a 'Roaming Brit!'
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Death of Pope Francis - A lurch to the right?

26/4/2025

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Currently, I am sat at home watching the funeral of Pope Francis, thousands of miles from Europe, and The Vatican City, where the late Pontiff is being laid to rest. This is a place Darrell and I have visited twice before; it is a city that left a lasting impression on me, and not for the reasons you may expect.

Darrell and I were staying in Rome for a few days, near to the Colosseum.  Just being in this ancient capital was a dream come true. Around every Roman corner, along every cobbled street and colourful piazza, this is indeed a city I love with all my heart. Italy itself is the most glorious Country I have ever visited, so steeped in history. Each Italian city we have stayed in hasn't failed to impress, but by far the most majestic, was The Vatican itself.

We walked through a busy St Peter's square; the sun shone brightly, illuminating our way towards the awe-inspiring Basilica — the Church of St Peter. This was a pilgrimage in all but name, for an art lover like me. I wanted to see every inch of this ancient wonder — every statue, fresco, painting, and tomb. As I entered the building, I wasn't disappointed; everywhere I looked, took my breath away; this church was there to impress people like me, The house of the eternal Father, on this mortal, fallible Earth. 

Darrell had walked on ahead, and I was left gingerly walking through the holiest place on the planet, when all of a sudden, I felt quite overcome — almost faint. I put my hand against a pillar, to steady my gaze. I was sweating profusely and experienced emotions, that I can't really describe. At this moment, a priest approached me and took my arm. I remember, he asked me if I was Italian, by uttering the word 'Italiano'. I shook my head and replied, 'Inglese'. He began speaking to me in broken English, assuring me, I would be OK, and helped me make my way outside.

I'm not really sure what happened that day, whether I had a panic attack, or a spiritual moment of enlightenment, but I did fall in love with The Vatican. After a breath of fresh air, I thanked the priest and after a few moments, made my way inside once more, where I finally caught up with Darrell. Together we continued our tour, and ended by rubbing the foot of St Peter, as thousands have done before, standing in wonderment at this magnificent building, just consuming the divine mysteries inside. 

As I grow older, I may well discover the reasons behind my 'experience' in St Peter's Basilica, or I just may put it down to a rather hot day in Rome, taking its toll. Whatever happened, I am well aware of the significance of the church in my life, no matter how small, and more importantly, I respect any man who has dedicated his life in the service of others. The Pope will indeed be remembered for his humbleness, wisdom, and ability to connect with the young, but for me, he will be the one Pope who very nearly brought me to his door. Now that is an achievement in my book. My Grandfather converted to Catholicism on his deathbed, like so many before him; it is a reminder of just how much we all change as we get older and discover faith we never knew we had!
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30 Years Together - A lifetime of paperwork!

20/4/2025

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​The countdown is on for our 30th Anniversary, a milestone by anyone's standards, let alone a couple of old gay men, who met in their early twenties in 1995. This year we will be travelling to Bangkok and Singapore, where we will spend two weeks visiting our favourite part of the World. For now, we are staying firmly in Australia. After I caught particularly nasty infections on the last two occasions we travelled abroad, we decided to leave it a year before travelling again, in the hope I am fully recovered.

This week's blog will be the first in a series, looking back at our thirty years together. We have certainly led a very different life to most of our peers, but I really wouldn't change that for the World. Darrell and I are not the high-flyers, that many of our friends and family are, but we have approached life in a very pragmatic way. We were always aware that the relationship we had would be difficult, so we understood, relatively early on, the limitations of success in our chosen fields. As a trained political expert, I never realised my dreams; nevertheless, both of us have built a happy, long-lasting partnership together, and at least now, we are finally making up for lost time!

In today's video log, I spoke about a subject, mundane to many, but life changing for us — paperwork! For the last three decades we have had to document our very existence to the authorities, of whichever country we were living in at the time. From The UK, Spain and Australia, we have had to keep every single receipt, bank statement and bill, indeed everything that was important, to prove we were in a committed relationship together. When we moved countries, we had to take an extra flight case full of paperwork, just to show we were still together. If I am honest, it has been a burden that completely changed the way we lived our life, and has left a lasting reminder on our daily routine — even now, 30 years later.

Today the World has changed — In Australia, Spain, and the UK, we have rights that we could have only dreamed of in 1995. Nevertheless, we have still had to document our relationship, only this time in a digital, rather than the usual paper centric way. Yes we still have to keep the significant, indispensable things, like old passports, mortgage forms and marriage and birth certificates, but we don't have to drag everything across the World with us, as we used too in the past.

You know what, I worked out the other day, that Darrell and I have moved over forty times during our life together, and every time, that large flight case of stuff came with us — until now. With the most important files with me in Australia, the remainder is with my Father, at his home in Britain. The day will come when it is transported over to our house in Australia, but until then, at least I know it's safe a sound.

When you meet the person you love, you never second guess how your life will pan out. You take each day at a time; you grow and experience things together, and you learn to accept that not everything will work out as you would have hoped. Despite the spontaneity of life, we have always had that nagging certainty, that wherever we went, we would always have to prove the enduring nature of our relationship together — that is very different to my friends and family.

The difficulties we experienced as a gay couple are still at the back of our minds, despite western societies moving on from the discrimination of the past.  I am especially conscious, of the rolling back of equal rights for gay people, in countries like the United States and Russia. For that reason, our relationship remains the most important achievement in my life. We have remained together despite everything that was thrown our way. After thirty years together, we still keep the receipts, mainly out of habit, and I am still personally documenting our life, even if it is in the form of a blog. I think until the day I die, I will always record events in a way no one else does, and that is quite simply, because of the official road we tread — In reality, it has left an indelible mark on my psyche.

I will be writing more blogs, celebrating our life together over the coming months, and hope you will join me in keeping our memories alive. If you find yourself in the same position as us, starting out on this rather bumpy rollercoaster ride, my advice to you is:  keep everything and never, ever, let the authorities get you down. When you finally win the battle, it will make all the fighting worth it, and that's all that matters. You won't remember the bad days, the difficult, challenging and traumatic ones, all you will think about the success you achieved, when the odds were against you, and the happiness you share, despite the anxiety you endured!
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Feeling Invisible as a gay man!

12/4/2025

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It's been a bit of a strange week for me, as I come to terms with that possible Glaucoma diagnosis. As you would expect, I have done a lot of research into the subject, and rather than make me feel more anxious, I am actually feeling rather philosophical about the whole thing. This isn't a condition I can change, so I just have to live with what may happen in the future. There is a lot they can do for me, should they need to, and I am as confident as I can be for the future.
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On Monday, I burnt my hand, while making dinner. After cooking Carrot and Thyme soup on the stove, I began to ladle it into the blender. After blending up the ingredients, I noticed it was leaking from the bottom. Lifting the jug up from the unit, hot, molten carrot soup, poured over my hand and down my leg. Bloody hell, did I scream!

I ran into the shower, jumped in and stood there naked, keeping my hand under a cold shower, for what seemed like hours. Meanwhile, poor Darrell, cleaned up the mess and ran out to get some ice, telling me to put my hand into ice-cold water on his return. As I know now, that was a mistake and undoubtably caused more damage to my skin.

In the end, the pain was so bad, I went to urgent care here in Midland, where my wounds were dressed by a nurse. She explained that the ice would have caused more damage to already damaged skin, and not to do it in future — that's highly unlikely, since I will never be making soup again! It seems that by running from the kitchen to the shower, I left the hot liquid on my skin for far too long, once again causing more damage. On top of this, I have lost the feeling in my thumb, as a result of nerve damage. This may or may not come back, all dependent on how deep the burn was.

Nevertheless, it seems to be healing neatly and thankfully looks a hundred times better than it did. I am hoping it will be more or less healed in another few days — fingers crossed.

​In my vlog today, I am discussing my feelings of loneliness and the difficulties I am experiencing as a gay man of a certain age. I am no longer the youngster I once was, and moving all over the World since my mid-forties has caused me to feel more and more invisible. Today in Australia, I have very few friends that I can talk to and confide in, relying heavily on friends back home in the UK.

Western Australia is a beautiful place, but the people tend to be rather insular and making a meaningful connection with anyone is hard. Currently, Darrell and I are on our own and have to rely on each other. When you receive difficult news from the Doctor, need a chat about issues you are experiencing on a daily basis, or just need a friend to have a drink with, you find yourself looking for the impossible; they just don't exist.

​I have spoken to many people here about how I feel, and with such a high immigrant population in the west , the majority of them agreed — Australia is a really hard place to integrate.

Despite this fact, neither Darrell nor I will be returning to the UK anytime soon. We have built a good life here, have a beautiful home and are getting ahead in a way we could have only dreamed of in Britain. Feeling invisible does have its advantages too. You can live your life as you think fit, and you don't have to make time for anyone else. I know that may sound sad, but this is the first time we have been in charge of our own destiny. We are doing exactly what we want, travelling to amazing places, and want for nothing. There is of course the nagging feeling of loneliness, but it is a sacrifice we are willing to make to get ahead.

​Nothing lasts forever, and I am sure our outlook may change in the future. For now, we are just happy to be in a good place and not at the mercy of a system that seeks to thwart your every endeavour. Yes, we do feel alone in this vast country at the edge of the World, but that's a cross we will have to bear and a sadness we will have to endure!
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Glaucoma?

6/4/2025

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I've been avoiding writing this blog today if I am honest — as someone with health anxiety, writing about a serious issue, that has now become an important part of my future, isn't something I want to be constantly reminded of. However, blogging is integral to my life, and it is necessary to document every aspect of it — good and bad.

Last Monday, I went for my biennial eye test; I could tell there had been changes in my sight and wanted to have them evaluated. I assumed I would just need an increased prescription and that would be that. Well, I was partly right! Yes, my eyes have changed, as one would expect after two years, but that wasn't the end of the story — something else was going on, something I had never heard of before.

Initially, the test progressed in the same way every other one had, and there were no real concerns. However, when my eye pressure (IOP) was taken, things took a rather worrisome turn. I had never really understood why air is blown onto the surface of the eye during the test, but my optician explained, it was to measure my eye pressure, in the same way blood pressure is taken on the arm.

I could tell something wasn't quite right because of her reaction; next she looked into my eye, to view my optic nerve. Once she pulled the apparatus away, she explained that there was a problem. IOP should be between 10 and 21 and mine was 23. This doesn't seem like a huge difference on the scale of things, but she emphasised it was significant, and I would have to undergo a 'field of vision test!'

Sat in a chair in a darkened room, I was told to focus on a yellow light. A series of green lights would flash, some more intense than others, and I would need to press a button to tell the operator when I saw the lights blinking, all the time focussing on the yellow light. This test was particularly taxing, and I was left rather tired by the end of it. I had to retake the test on my right eye twice, so they had a clear picture of what was going on with my peripheral vision.

Once the test was complete, I was taken to a room and told that I had high intraocular pressure. The optician said she couldn't see any damage to the Optic nerve currently, although there were abnormalities in my field of vision test. She explained I would have to be closely monitored, and if my pressures continued to rise, I would be referred to a specialist for treatment.

Understandably, I was shocked. This isn't something I can feel, so what exactly is high IOP. Well, it is a build up of fluid behind the eye, which presses on the optical nerve. The higher the pressure, the more damage potential there is. The optical nerve connects the eye to the brain, and any impairment will cause subsequent loss of sight. This isn't something that happens immediately, but over the course of years; left untreated, I will eventually go blind.

My optician asked me if any member of my immediate family had Glaucoma, and after a phone call with my Father that evening, it appears Mum did. This apparently increases my chance of getting Glaucoma tenfold, and could be the reason I am where I am today.

Understandably, I have been particularly depressed. My Optician has stressed, that if confirmed, I will not necessarily go blind. There are many treatments available — laser, eye drops and surgery, all employed to slow down and hopefully prevent blindness. Nevertheless, she didn't downplay what was happening, and said this condition is chronic, and I would have to undergo treatment for the rest of my life.

This is certainly a week I would rather forget and has left me feeling particularly down in the dumps; I never dreamt in a million years this would happen to me. At least they have discovered it now, hopefully early enough, to treat the symptoms of this debilitating condition, but that doesn't mitigate how serious this disease is. I am still debating whether to get a second opinion, but for now, I have been told I will be retested in six months, to check my pressures haven't risen further. This is not going to be the easiest six months of my life, but one I am just going to have to deal with, like everything else thrown my way! 
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Marmite From Home - The perfect gift!

30/3/2025

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This week I received a package from home. A friend I have known, since I worked at The Newcome Arms in Portsmouth, was chatting with me shortly after Christmas, about my new life in Australia. Gez was always a ray of sunshine — as I worked behind the bar, he often made me laugh and always made me feel welcome, included and appreciated, despite my rather dubious Bartender skills. He was, and undoubtedly still is, full of life, happy, and an absolute joy to be around. It's people like Gez I miss every day living in Perth, and one of the many reasons I still have a deep fondness for the country of my birth.

Gez was chatting about Christmas, and all the food he had to throw out, listing delicacies you can only find in Britain. Top of his list was good old 'Twiglets,' a savoury snack I have loved since I was a wee child. Apparently, according to my late Mother, 'Twiglets' are healthier than other similar treats, and I was actively encouraged to enjoy this acquired taste, in moderation of course.

Now, I have no idea if these are healthier than any other crisp, but they sure are tastier. Back in the day when I was young, these twig shaped Marmite sticks, were bigger than they are now. Apparently, health and safety deemed them a choking hazard; these twigs would often get stuck in my throat, so god knows what happened to other potential victims. However, I am digressing — Gez was explaining how much he disliked them, and just how many tubs he had thrown out, to my absolute horror.

​'Gez mate, No, don't do that, I love them. Rather than throw them out, send them my way!' Even though I can get Twiglets here in Australia, the packets are small, and they cost nearly $4.00 a time, and a tub of them is impossible to get. Consequently, I'd be more than happy to take them off Gezs' hands, despite being thousands of miles away.

To be honest, I didn't think anymore about our conversation, after my off the cuff comments, until Gez asked if he could have my address; he had something he wanted to send to me. Six weeks later, I received a rather large parcel at my parcel collect address here in Perth. For those of you who don't know what Parcel Collect is, let me enlighten you:

The postal service in Australia is particularly insecure, rather like it is in Spain. Having lived in both countries, I can't tell you how many times I have lost parcels in their respective postal systems, so having a secure address for deliveries is essential. Mail is normally delivered to post boxes at the end of drives, and these poorly maintained boxes are often broken into and items stolen.

The post office in Midland contacts me when mail arrives, and I collect it, mostly without a hitch. It had been six weeks since Gez sent his parcel, and I believed it had gone missing, as so many others do here. What with the floods over east, and the lack of tracking, there is any number of reasons why, but, when I picked it up, I could immediately see it was from Portsmouth, and I realised it was from Gez.

​Inside the box were four large tubs of 'Twiglets' and two jumbo jars of Marmite. Gez had remembered our conversation, and decided he would send me some provisions. He really does have a heart of gold and made my day. I haven't had British Marmite for years now, and although we do get 'Our mate,' which is the Aussie equivalent, it still doesn't taste quite the same; I was delighted to have some proper stuff from back home, and the taste is, well, glorious — if that's your kind of thing.

Living so far from home, you do begin to realise who your friends are. I was introduced to many new friends and colleagues while living in Portsmouth, and they are some of the best people I have ever met. Gez is an example of someone, who has quite simply left an indelible mark on my heart. When you meet the good ones in life, grab hold of them, keep them close and never let go — these are the friends who keep the memories alive, wherever I am in the World!
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Catching Up - Keeping our network alive!

24/3/2025

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It was great to catch up with our old friend Elaine this week. Elaine has been a close friend for twenty years now, and she is one of the people we miss most. Thankfully, with FaceTime and other forms of social media, we are still able to stay close.

Living on the other side of the World, can feel particularly isolating at times, especially when we have spent most of our life together, living in the UK, so any link to old friendships is welcome. 

Of course, as individuals, all our lives move on, but because the majority of our friends are in the UK, it makes it very difficult to move forward, in life, without them. This isn't me feeling sorry for myself, or regretting moving to Australia, this is about adapting, to accommodate our changing circumstances.

Making new friends, has been the biggest hurdle for us to overcome. We are not young anymore; people of our age normally have established friendships and a reliable network around them — we just don't, and that is making our life a lot harder than it should be. One has to remember, very few couples our age move from the UK to Australia, so the difficulties we experience are going to be markedly different to those of a younger age!

Both Darrell and I have always found British people easier to get along with, and more welcoming in nature. That isn't a swipe at Australians, but rather an admission that our roots lie firmly in the UK. If I am honest, I'm not sure if we will ever fully integrate into Australian life, especially with our circle of friends being so small. That does leave me with a huge sense of sadness, but it is also me coming to terms with the limitations of my new life in Perth. It is clear things will not be like they used to; we will never have the huge circle of people around us, we had in the past, but we should both do more to invite people into our life.

​After suffering at the hands of some truly dubious people over the last ten years, we do both find it hard to accept that other individuals are genuine and honest. Having said that, we have learnt many lessons in life, and I would consider myself a wonderful judge of character these days. However, I have to admit that I just do not have the time, will power or motivation to put in enough of an effort at the moment. The reality is, both Darrell and I are probably the reason, we live our life without significant friendships. It is our choice right now, and something we will hopefully change in the future. 

Our priority is our future, and that has to take priority. Paying the mortgage and bills will always be top of our list. When we finally do invite others into our life, it will be when we think it will be beneficial, and work for us as a couple. Until then, we still have our very strong network of mates in the UK, and that's all we appear to need at the moment.

Everything I have said doesn't detract from those I have personally met in Perth; Darrell has some truly wonder friends, from way back when, who I feel extremely comfortable with. They do of course have their own lives to lead, so catching up can be tough at times. Both of us need to learn to relax more, enjoy the life we have built, and gradually become the people we used to be — Easier said than done I know, but not insurmountable!
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Talking about the Netflix drama, Adolescence!

22/3/2025

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Reflections of a 90s Club Kid!

16/3/2025

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This week, I managed to talk to my old friend, Dom, back in The United Kingdom. Sadly, these days, we don't talk as often as we should, but it does make it all the more special when we do.

It's fantastic to see that some people just don't change, and Dommy is just the same as I've always known him. When you live so far away from friends, you do tend to value the times you catch up more and more. The fact is, I've become rather sentimental in my old age, and as today's video shows, I am reflecting on the past more and more; that is definitely a sign of aging, and appreciating the memories I made, getting to where I am today.

​In today's video, I am referencing a particularly memorable time in my life. In fact, I think it is safe to say, the most important period in my life so far. The years 1990–1995 were years of growth, self-discovery and finally coming to terms with my sexuality. This particular chapter really defined the person I am today, and despite coming of age at a time of great discrimination and inequality, I was grateful for the people who were a part of my life at the time. Without them, things would have been much tougher than then they already were. My naturally anxious disposition was kept at bay, through the influences of friends, who knew me more, than I probably knew myself.
In 1990, I was a respectable civil servant, responsible for planning a large area of London for the 1991 census, in my role as an Enumeration District Planner. This was a great job with amazing prospects for the future, but as I cautiously navigated my way in the world, I threw caution to the wind. I gave up my career, for a life, that even I couldn't have imagined. 

This was the age I discovered my sexuality and came out to close friends. My first boyfriend, in 1990, was a stepping stone to the life I lead, 35 years later. Initially hesitant, as I denied who I really was, I soon found kindred folk, other gay people just like me, as I returned to full-time education in Southampton.

I suppose I could say my life spiralled out of control at this point, as University life became one long party, where lectures, work, and knuckling down often took second place. Maybe if I had chosen a course that I was actually interested in, things would have been very different. However, I did what was expected of me, and not what I really wanted to do. The actor and writer that really pushed my buttons, were just too far out of reach. In my mind, I would never be good enough, so I gave up at the first hurdle.

​Despite my failings, which are many, I wouldn't change this period for the World. Not only did I discover the person inside me, I also met the most eclectic group of people I could have ever wished for. My network was vast and diverse, and I am lucky enough to still be in contact with many of these friends even today. That is testament to their welcoming nature, and an appreciation of the often chaotic times we all spent together, at a time of World change, and the birth of equal rights for all. 

This was five years that aged me out of all recognition, but for the right reasons. In my early twenties, I finally discovered what being gay was all about. I made so many mistakes along the way, hanging out with the wrong people, doing things I shouldn't and not working hard enough to succeed financially, but the experiences I had were worth every bad choice I made.

All of my strong, enduring relationships, were born between 1990-1995, this tumultuous, topsy-turvy five-year time frame, including my current marriage to husband Darrell in 1995. Had I done the right thing and continued my career in Her Majesties Civil Service, my life would have been very different today.  The disparity would have been stark, so much so, I may have even been married with kids, waiting for the day, I could finally come out, like so many I have known, and often criticised myself.

So no, I wasn't the success I planned to be, I battle more today than I ever have done, but my affluence is my encounters, exploits, adventures and endurances, culminating in the long, loving relationship I still enjoy. That's all that matters, that's everything I ever wanted — the money, fame, and fortune were nothing more than a superficial dream!
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Donald Trump and the rise of the far right!

9/3/2025

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Just two old 90s clubbers, no longer living life in the fast lane!

3/3/2025

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This Monday is Labour Day in Australia and a long weekend for most of us, as we enjoy the last month or so of Summer. Darrell is working today, so it gives me an opportunity to sit down and do some blogging. I won't be going out, and I am taking the opportunity to relax and unwind, after a particularly difficult few weeks!

My sleeping has been rather erratic if I am honest; one day I sleep well, the next, anything but. Ever since I moved from Spain to my Aunts house in Britain in 2018, my sleeping patterns have just got worse. Living in Portsmouth, surrounded by my adorable Cousins, was an experience I wouldn't change for the World. They were particularly young, however, and would often wake up in the early hours of the morning. Consequently, I found myself getting up earlier and earlier. Today I am awake by 4 am most days. Despite this, it hasn't affected my work, whether blogging, writing or my retail job. In fact, I thrive on getting up at the crack of dawn, especially enjoying this beautiful time of day.

When I get home from work, I eat my rather small dinner — usually I wouldn't eat after 4.30pm, but because of my job, this just isn't possible. Instead, I eat a large lunch and keep it simple in the evening.  After dinner, I briefly sit down for an hour, watching GB News from home, or YouTube, and I am in bed by 8.30 pm — what a life eah! It certainly isn't the rock and roll lifestyle I used to have when I was younger, or even when I was living in Spain, but it serves us well at the moment. As we work hard to pay off the mortgage in a record 9 years, we are hopefully improving our options for the future, and this is important!

I find myself becoming a lot more reclusive as I get older — I stumbled across a cucumber in the freezer this morning, and thought f*ck, is this the first sign of dementia. I decided not to google the implications of this mishap and just put it to the back of my mind. Furthermore, I think, I was probably half asleep whilst making lunch and accidentally put it in the top of the freezer, instead of the vegetable draw of the fridge. Oh, and I can draw a clock face perfectly (if you can't, it is probably a sign of cognitive decline!) And of course, writing helps to keep my brain active, which is always great, especially recalling memories, I would have otherwise forgotten.

I have also had a few knee and leg issues for the last couple of weeks, which has been rather annoying. I had a feeling the aches and pains had something to do with my feet. Don't ask me why, it was just a feeling I had. So, I did some googling, carried out a few tests, and discovered I have high arches — who'd have thought it. I always believed I had flat feet, but no, completely the opposite. 

After doing some research online, I discovered the Skechers shoes I normally wear, may not be right for my feet. I came across a brand of shoes called 'Hoka' that may just help with the pain after a long day at work. It turns out the shoes were quite easy to procure and last Sunday I went to 'Athletes Foot,' a shop in Australia, and spoke to a lovely lad called Bradly, who helped me with my concerns.

For the first time, since I was a child, I had my feet measured and my walk or 'gait' assessed — finally I got some answers. I have different size feet, which are a D width and yes, I have those dreaded high arches. I asked Bradly about the "Hoka' shoes online, and he selected three pairs that would be suitable. At a cost of $300, they aren't cheap, but after wearing them for a week now, my feet feel bloody fantastic.

It's very odd getting old, I am finding it particularly difficult and challenging. I appear to have a new ailment every day, and it does get me down. The aches and pains never seem to get any easier, and both Darrell and I constantly moan about the way we are feeling — just two old 90s clubbers no longer living life in the fast lane. When I look back over the ten years since starting this blog, I am aware, that my health and wellbeing has changed out of all proportion. When I lived in Spain, I didn't really have a care in the World. I would drink copious amounts of beer whenever I wanted; equally, I would eat terribly and smoke cheap Spanish cigarettes, not giving my health a second thought.

When I returned to the UK, suddenly my health became a priority, especially after watching my mother die in hospital in 2019. Instantly, I began suffering with health anxiety, and every little twinge sent me running to see the Doctor. Today, even though I am better in many respects, I have been left with a huge anxiety hangover and still worry about my body and approaching old age. I was hoping that would disappear in time, but it hasn't. As I've gotten older, more perceived afflictions have come to the fore, consequently my health anxiety remains, albeit in a much milder form.

This evening, I've just gotten off the phone with my father. We don't talk as often as I would like, but surprisingly we both have busy lives to contend with. Dad is 77 and remains fairly active and probably has more of a social life than me. When we speak, it's about our respective ailments/illnesses, and it's great to connect with him on these very important issues; the reality is, I don't have anyone else to talk to, about them.

Dad is getting older and the niggly conditions he has, seem to be worsening, as one would expect. For this reason, I worry about him constantly. It is difficult living so far away, and there are times I would dearly love to be closer. When I am able, I hope to return to see Dad, probably next year. We haven't seen each other in two and a half years and my father is the only real family I have left now, so it is essential we stay as close as we can despite the distance between us.

We also enjoy talking about politics — tonight we discussed President Trump and the shameful way he treated President Zelenskyy in the Whitehouse. Like Dad, I am shocked and disgusted by this strange Trumpian World we are now living in, and both of us are concerned about the way the World is heading. 

I am frequently told I am living in the safest place, down under, as the rest of the World appears to be heading closer to war. Nevertheless, with Dad back in Britain and my friends also firmly back home, my anxiety is becoming worse. I wake every morning expecting more bad news from America and an increasingly unhinged President, creating mayhem and madness wherever he goes. This isn't a World I like anymore, and I fear for all our futures, as we continue the march to World War III. It's thoughts like these that concern my sensibility but also keep me grounded, and fully aware of circumstances that affect us all, no matter where we live in the World!

​I suppose today has been about getting stuff off my chest, which is what a personal blog is all about. A reader of roamingbrit wrote to me a few days ago, explaining how blogs such as mine are few and far between now. Most blogs are trying to sell something, advertise corporate sponsorship or encourage readers to click on this link or that. This decade old diary, however, is just about a simple, personal journey that continues, often in the most mundane way.

People like to feel a part of another person's life, like big brother looking in, and I am happy to share my experiences. I hope it helps people like you on your own travels, navigating this complicated, frustrating and often complicated and confusing battle called life; I am thankful it also helps me, even on the darkest of days. Life goes on, bloggers keep blogging, Trump keeps bullying, and my anxiety still persists, but hey, at least it gives me something to write about!
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    51-year-old Author and professional blogger. Expat formerly living in Gran Alacant on the Costa Blanca! Currently, residing in my adopted home of Perth, Western Australia.

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