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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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Press Release

Echoes In The Hallway

Blogger, Luke Martin-Jones, writing under his real name Darren Light, has written a nostalgic anthology through Memory, Identity, and the Architecture of Belonging. Echoes in the Hallway, is a childhood journey and a reflection on the past, that made Darren the person he is today!

Perth, Western Australia — 3 August 2025

Roaming Brit, the evocative voice behind a growing archive of cultural memory and personal storytelling, announces the release of Echoes In The Hallway — a richly textured exploration of childhood, resilience, and the spaces that shape us all. Blending atmospheric detail with emotional truth, Echoes In The Hallway invites readers into a world where 1970s smoky pubs and school corridors become portals to the past. With a meticulous eye for period-accurate design and a deep reverence for British cultural moments — from the Silver Jubilee to the quiet rituals of everyday life — Roaming Brit crafts a narrative that is both intimate and universal.

“This book is a love letter to the places and people who made me — and to the echoes that still linger in the corners of memory.”

Through flash fiction and biography, short stories, and visual storytelling, Echoes In The Hallway captures the rhythm of growing up in a world defined by social housing, community ties and the long hot summer of 1976. Nashe House, and the unforgettable presence of figures like Mrs. Hat and Mrs. Rogers, charter a vignette of vulnerability, nostalgia, and the quiet strength found in belonging.

Book Highlights:
- Sensory-rich scenes from 1970s and 1980s Britain
- Emotional portraits of family, community, and identity
- A fusion of visual design and narrative craft
- Reflections on how childhood echoes into adulthood
Whether you're drawn to retro aesthetics, cultural storytelling, or the emotional resonance of memory, Echoes In The Hallway offers a deeply personal yet widely relatable experience.

Availability
Echoes In The Hallway is available at 'amazon,' in the UK, Australia and the USA. It is available in hardback, paperback, and Kindle versions.

Connect with Roaming Brit
Follow the journey and behind-the-scenes reflections at www.roamingbrit.com.
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​This week I am concentrating on writing my book "Echoes In The Hallway,' so I will be discussing my recent heart murmur status in a video log. When I turned up at hospital last Saturday, after suffering from severe chest pain, I had no idea that I would leave with a Systolic Heart Murmur. This isn't something that has ever been picked up before, so understandably I am rather concerned.

It is of course up to me to arrange for further investigations here in Perth, so I can make sense of just what is causing this murmur. It could be benign, which is usually the case when you are younger, or it could be something more sinister: a problem with a narrowing of arteries or a heart valve problem. At this moment in time, they just do not know why I have an issue.

I am naturally quite anxious about this finding, especially as I do suffer from health anxiety. I do, however, wonder if the nervousness and concern I suffer with on a daily basis, has contributed to the physical symptom. The consultant at the hospital did say that a murmur can disappear as quickly as it arrived. I only had my heart checked a few weeks ago and nothing was picked up, so I am a little confused to say the least.

Have a listen to the video this week and tell me what you think. I always value your opinions, which you always offer each week. If you have any insight into this condition, I would love to hear from you.
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I just wanted to say a few words about my new book, that will be coming out soon. 'Echoes In The Hallway' is an anthology of short stories from my childhood. I have been writing for as long as I can remember, and I have decided to publish these personal insights into my life growing up in the 1970s and 80s in tangible form.

The book is written under my birth name, Darren Light. I thought it was appropriate to use my given name, considering the personal nature of these stories. Luke Martin - Jones in the Blogger inside, Darren is the little boy who grew up, surviving the challenges of 70s and 80s Britain, whilst wrestling with being gay, in a distinctly homophobic world.

I will of course let you know when the book is on sale and look forward to seeing it in print myself!
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I'm currently in the middle of writing a book, so I'll keep the words brief tonight. This year I will have been blogging for ten years; 2025 is a very important time for many reasons, my blogging anniversary being one. I have also been together with Darrell for three decades, and of course, we have been married ten years. So, this is a chunky, packed milestone for us, and we are both going to pack in as much as possible until our Anniversary trip to Thailand and Singapore in September.

The reasons I started blogging, were born from adverse events. Suffering at the hands of bullies, I decided to start writing my feelings down — part of a process to understand just what was happening to me at the time. It is only today, ten years later, that I have started to reread my blogs from 2015, and they make for interesting reading.

To be perfectly honest, the original reasons I started blogging no longer exist. The bullying that both my partner and I suffered, is long gone, as are the people who systematically orchestrated the pain, we went through. Today my life is far more successful and happier than it was in 2015, so despite them succeeding in driving us away, towards a new life far away from the UK, they failed to destroy us as a couple. As a result of their abuse, now we are both stronger, wiser and far more aware, of the more sinister elements, society can throw our way. The worst year in my life, made us the people we are now, and I couldn't be prouder of how far we have come!

Blogging was a way of keeping my mind active during a terribly difficult period. It allowed me to address the reasons behind the challenging circumstances, we were in the middle of, and try to make sense of the bullying and torment we were dealing with on a daily basis. At the time, I never really reached any firm conclusions as to the bullies motives, but I did lay some rather nasty demons to rest.

Over time, my blog has changed. It is no longer a space full of anger and anxiety; today it is a happy place. Roaming Brit is a rare thing in 2025 — it is a personal blog, a daily diary of my life — currently in Australia. Personal blogging is no longer as popular as it once was, as bloggers channel their efforts into more revenue based online ventures. So for me, I am continuing to do something I love, more than making money off the back of my writing. Being happy and content is all that matters. This is a passion, a love, and a part of who I am.

From adverse times, Roaming Brit has evolved into a magazine, consisting of short stories, travels logs and vlogs, contributions from guest bloggers and of course my weekly musings on everything from politics and current affairs to LGBTQIA+ issues and health. Today I write about whatever is on my mind at the time. It is a hobby that keeps me grounded, in touch with my own feelings and emotions, and has brought me into contact with many interesting people over the years. Many of those I have met through the blogging World, have become good friends and have supported me on this ten year journey of discovery.

To end this short blog today, I just want to thank all of you for following my ramblings, social media accounts and YouTube channel. You have made this decade an amazing, productive and busy time, and I am grateful you have been with me on this rather rocky rollercoaster ride. I have no plans to stop writing anytime soon, you will be pleased to hear; I look forward to the next decade and beyond, and hope Roaming Brit continues to go from strength to strength, as I know it will! Blogging is a way of life, it is in my genes, it has become the life force that keeps me going and the blood that flows through my veins!
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When you are confronted by the 'C' word — Cancer, you really can't predict how you will react. All of us are different. When you are told you may have that disease, you deal with it however you can. As a sufferer of health anxiety, I didn't cope with the prospect of having skin cancer too well. To say I was devastated, would be an understatement. All week I have been traumatised, living on nervous energy, and existing, like every day was my last.

This week has been hell, I really haven't known whether I am coming or going. I have very much lived in a bubble. I haven't spoken to anyone, including my husband, preferring to stay quiet — alone with my thoughts I was trying to come to terms with a diagnosis, before actually being diagnosed. In my mind, I had cancer and in my head, I was preparing for the worst case scenario. My mental health is quite simply in bits; I feel like I have run a marathon, haven't slept for weeks and literally been through the mill. I am shattered, tired and absolutely exhausted. This has been a hellish week and one I just want to forget.

The biopsy, itself, has really just been an inconvenience. It is in an awkward spot, in the middle of my back, which is making it really difficult to heal. Whether carrying a bag to work, sleeping in a bed, or sitting on a chair, the friction caused is just exacerbating the problem. I do have some pain from the site itself and having to put on a smiling face each day, has been difficult — especially after recovering from COVID.

My consultant at the mole scan clinic said, the results would be back within a few weeks, and that immediately sent me into panic mode. Health anxiety doesn't make allowances for diagnostic results. Each day of the waiting process is worse than the one before. For me, the 'not knowing' has been the worst part of this whole sorry episode. I can cope with the pain of a biopsy, even the threat of a positive cancer result, but the waiting period, for an anxiety sufferer, is a killer. I might as well lock myself away for a week — functioning at any semblance of normality, has been hard, and I have made myself ill just thinking about the consequences.

Within a few working days, my results had dropped into my health app on my phone. I immediately phoned the clinic for answers, to no avail. The Doctor hadn't looked at them yet, let alone analysed them. Despite pushing as hard as I could, the receptionist just couldn't give me any more information. Of course, my anxiety just increased, as I wondered why the results were not being released — 'what were they hiding!'

The next day, I phoned once more, and again I was given the same answer. The Clinician would phone me as soon as they knew, but 'rest assured they will do it in a timely manner.' This did bugger all to stem my apprehension, and I was probably more concerned than ever. Anxiety is a vicious cycle, as I found out this week, both physically and mentally, taking its toll. Anticipating these results has been lonely and extremely painful. I have lost three kilograms in weight and I look particularly tired and gaunt. Every morning I woke up at 1.30am, sweating, with a fast heartbeat, which as you can imagine, did nothing to alleviate my fears of a positive diagnosis.

By the end of the day, after my second phone call, the Doctor phoned back, while I was in the middle of some end of day paperwork. My heart immediately sank. However, she immediately told me the lesion on my back was benign and referred to it as 'fibrosis.' You just can't imagine the relief I felt at that moment — all of my anxiety immediately disappeared; I felt like a new man!

I resisted the temptation to research fibrosis on Dr Google, not wanting to detract from the good news, at least temporarily. After telling Darrell and my father the good news, I slept like a baby. Yes, I woke up at stupid O'clock in the morning, but there was no sweat, fast heartbeat nor anxiety, and I fell back asleep straight away. It was clear, I was going to live another day, and the relief was palpable.

As ever, with health anxiety, within 24 hours, I was concerned about another pain, this time under my tongue. Whilst searching a possible Squamous cell carcinoma diagnosis, just a few days before, some rather uncomfortable photos of affected tongues came up in my news feed, so I naturally jumped on the anxiety bandwagon once again. This time, however, I immediately jumped off; so far, ten days later, I am feeling chipper, in good spirits and avoiding the anxiety cycle of despair. Thankfully, so far, I am no longer dwelling on the worst life throws my way.

Thank you for all your messages of support and for just being there when I needed it most. This time I was lucky, when so many others are not. To all of you suffering with a cancer diagnosis: you are truly amazing people; your stories have helped me, during a particularly challenging time, and for that I am extremely grateful. Keep fighting, keep the faith — Health and happiness to you all!
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​Well I guess it was only a matter of time before I got the bloody thing again and on Sunday it came hurtling towards me, at break neck speed, hitting me square in the face with a bang.

A friend had come over for Sunday lunch — I was cooking a cottage pie, something I haven't had in years; wonderful comfort food during these long winters months in Australia. I had been feeling under the weather all day. My voice was a little horse and I had a tickly throat. My sinuses appeared to be blocked also, and I was starting to get a cough. 

Dinner tasted great, just like Mother used to make. Savoury mince, carrots and peas, with a garlic mash topping and a layer of strong grated cheddar on top. However, this 'old school' dinner, hadn't done much for my sense of wellbeing, and by the time I had finished, I was feeling decidedly worse. Sitting down in the family room, I decided to take a COVID test. Luckily we had some in the cupboard, still in date. I thought it best just to make sure everything was OK. 

​Within seconds, the second line popped up on the bio-sensor — I was COVID positive! Now look, I know, COVID isn't what it used to be, top of the evening news, or even a brief mention in The Daily Mail, but to some — like me — it is particularly worrisome. At the moment, here in Western Australia, COVID and Flu are on the increase and despite being fully vaccinated and boosted, I am well aware, I suffer more than most.

Laying on my bed, at my Aunts house in Portsmouth, Boris Johnson, The British Prime Minister, gave his address to the nation. We were all told to stay at home, we weren't allowed to go outside, and we had to avoid contact with the most vulnerable people in society. I gently put my mug of Bovril down on my side table and checked my phone. Already, the PM's speech had reached Darrell in Australia, who was completely locked down on the other side of the World. Both of us were trapped in our respective countries, unable to leave, travel and be with one another. After 23 years together, we were finally separated, for reasons beyond our control. At that unhinged moment, in March 2020, I knew things were serious; this was the day the World changed and life went slowly down hill from then — Just look where we are today!

As a key worker, I wasn't afforded the luxury of staying at home. As a supermarket employee, I was part of the thousands of supermarket workers, up and down the country, charged with keeping the food chain going. Without us, people wouldn't be able to eat. We were given a letter to afford us the privilege of walking or driving to work, just in case we were stopped by the police. With the streets of Fratton empty, life, for me at least, carried on relatively normally and for that I was truly grateful.

I contracted COVID-19 for the first time, shortly after lockdown, losing my taste and smell. Because it wasn't on the list of approved Government symptoms, I continued working, doing my bit for the country. As I know now, Anosmia is a symptom of COVID. This was the only symptom I had, and it took several months for my senses to return. I tried everything to get my sense of taste back — chocolate muffins with mustard, chilli and peanut butter — all to no avail! By the time it returned, I was self-isolating with a second bout of the dreaded disease, this time much worse than before.

Working in retail had become hazardous. Having to self-isolate, with symptoms, meant the whole household had to do the same — it truly was a debilitating time. The Government duly paid my wages, at a time when I was forced to remain at home. Darrell kept in close contact, my breathing became laboured, my head was banging and fatigue was the order of the day. These were strange times, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. As my period of self-isolation came to an end, I looked forward to returning to work.

Walking to work once again, I was struck by the Easter posters and advertising in shop windows, still closed in May, nearly a month after Easter had ended and almost two months after lockdown was announced. The streets were still empty, with hardly a soul in sight. Tesco was my saving grace. My colleagues were my family, friends, confidants, and support. This was a period — although dark — that I look back on with fondness. I cemented some truly amazing friendships and met even more amazing people. New colleagues arrived from all over, from different walks of life, all working together to keep the supermarkets open.

​As colleagues became ill, other, new colleagues took over, different faces appeared every day. We celebrated national events and milestones together. Shared Birthdays and Christmas as a family and navigated the strange 'new normal,' as Britain grappled with the increasing number of COVID cases, reported daily on the news. The outlook looked bleak, but, we all had each other and became the support each of us needed, in the absence of friends and family.

From lockdowns to furlough, 'Eat Out to Help Out,' local lockdowns, mandatory mask wearing and the resulting cold sores and the bucket loads of sanitiser, cracked bleeding hands and blisters, we got through it all, mostly intact. Of course, each of us knew someone who had lost someone, but in the main, we all survived to tell the tale. These were anxiety inducing times, but they also made us stronger and more able to cope with whatever was thrown our way.

Today there are no nightly statistics, no records of deaths and no news nightly briefings from the Government. In 2025, COVID still exists, as I can testify today, but simply, it is no longer part of the media agenda. As vaccinations and immunity have slowly watered down a virus, that was so dangerous before — and to some, still is today — we have all learnt to look past the worst and remain positive for the future.

Here I am, thousands of miles from home and a lifetime away from the Coronavirus of the early 20s, but I am still suffering from the dreaded virus, just not in the same way. For most, the Pandemic was a lonely time; for me, it was nothing but. Today in Australia I am more lonely now than I ever was during the coronavirus and that is why I am in a reflective mood this week.

To admit you enjoyed the Pandemic years, is the wrong thing to say, but I do long for a time, where all of us were as one, as we were then, and part of something greater. Suffering with COVID today, just makes me remember how different things could have been. I realise just what is important in life — it's friends and family, the memories we share and the times we had together — I miss that, I miss it more than I can say, I miss it with all my heart!
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In this week's blog, I want to talk about Gay Pride, an event that I first took part in, in 1993. Recently, I have had a few altercations with gay friends online, who have shocked me with their views on what I consider, an important part of modern gay life and culture. Gay Pride, is in part a celebration of who we are as a community, but it is more than that. It is about showing support, companionship, and esprit de corps with other LGBTQI+ people, as they navigate the challenges of gay life.

Despite the freedoms we have won over the years, all of us still suffer from discrimination and hardships others do not. Back in 1993, many of the people I marched alongside had been disowned by family and friends; they were very much on their own. Marching together, as a group, meant safety, security and finally a sense of belonging.

In 2025, equality is being eroded across the World, as right wing nationalism, populism, and authoritarian regimes roll back the rights we all fought so hard for. I am astounded by my own gay kinsfolk and their rejection of a movement, that has always been embracing of ALL minority groups. 

In recent times, our transgender brothers and sisters have become a particular target of hate, not only from people outside the gay community, but also the LGB community itself. I understand there is animosity between factions in the LGBTQI+ collective, of which I am a part, but I do not fully understand the reasons why. On this basis, I do not want to discuss it on here, but invite readers to educate me on their own personal views and experiences, on this rather awkward subject. 

In my humble opinion, as a group, we should be standing together, as we always have done. Unified, we are stronger. If we are attacking our own brothers and sisters because of our own prejudices, we have lost the moral high ground; we are becoming as discriminatory as those who attack and continue to attack us — we are no better. Isn't it strange how gay people, who have suffered so much over the years, can abuse those, who we regarded as friends and family not so long ago. What are we thinking by rejecting our peers and those who have always traditionally stood shoulder to shoulder, especially during our fight for equal rights?

I understand this is a contentious subject and I do not have all the answers, but when you look around this unstable World that we inhabit, surely we can do better than this. To see the LGBTQI+ alliance tearing itself apart from within, is deeply depressing. This isn't about us as a group of individuals, this is more about the geopolitical upheaval we are currently living through.

It is easy to jump on a far right bandwagon and blame one minority group or another for the trouble currently swirling across the globe. The same thing happened just before the Second World War; we have clearly learnt nothing since then. When the planet is in turmoil, it's the people who can least defend themselves, that suffer the most, and the wider LGBTIQ+ community are now doing it to themselves. 

I am a supporter of gay pride, because I grew up in a different age, where the support of friends was important. As a twenty-something year old, I lived in a gay household, mixed with gay people, partied with like-minded individuals and felt secure with those, who, like me, just wanted to be who they were. Gay Pride was about looking after all members of our community and ensuring no one was left out. Today that has changed; as our community fractures and the World falls apart, it appears on the surface, at least, that we are destined to implode as well.

Gay Pride matters today, more than ever, because the rights we have won are being removed piece by piece. As western nations turn their backs on progressive politics, I am afraid of the future, as all of us should be. The World has become a dangerous place and our very existence has become precarious. Don't let the haters divide us, because without each other, we have nothing, nothing at all!
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​Today I am sat blogging with a hot water bottle under my hoodie. Layers, lots of layers, I am told — as winter begins to bite in Western Australia! Well, coming from The United Kingdom, one would expect me to cope better than most in the colder weather. No, nothing could be further from the truth! I cannot stand the cold, and down under it feels colder than back home in Blighty. Of course that isn't strictly true, but it bloody well feels that way right now!

During the summer, Perth, in Western Australia, swelters in 40-degree heat. The sun is bright and intense, and there is very little humidity. On some days, the hot desert winds are blowing across our inland home, and it's safer to stay inside. These are extreme temperatures, that I have become used to over the three years I have lived here.

Having said that, I still can't get used to the cold winter weather. Perth, as well as being the most isolated capital city in the World, it is also one of the windiest! This creates a harsh environment at this time of year, one which I would rather not be living in. If I could move northwards, to Darwin or even Asia during the winter, life would be pretty damn perfect, but I can't, and we do what we can to survive.

I have acclimatised to the hot Australian weather, so when winter arrives, it really does hit you. This morning, the temperature outside was about ten degrees, and it felt significantly colder. Of course, we don't have the minus temperatures you have in the UK and Europe, but ten degrees feels positively Baltic to an Aussie.

Perth is an outdoor city. There are fantastic beaches, and nature walks right on our doorstep, but during the winter months, the place closes down. The city itself is even more quiet than usual, with barely a soul walking the streets after 5pm. The markets are closed, the beaches are empty, and it's a soulless place to be, as everyone counts the day until we meet summer once again.

Between June and October, I hibernate. You will find me curled up in bed, electric blanket on, reading a good book, blogging or watching YouTube. I rarely go out, finding the dark nights less than inviting. We are lucky enough to have a nice home, two very spoilt cats and enough interests to keep us both busy. Having said all that, homes are just not built to cater for the colder months. We have no heating, just an electric fire and no double-glazed windows to keep what little heat there is, in the house. It is very much like going back to my childhood and my first remembrance of a harsh winter in Britain, in the town where I grew up.

​In 1981, at ten years old, I moved with my parents, from their pleasant warm flat, to an older three-bedroom house, that needed an enormous amount of work doing to it. The only form of heating we had, was an old coal fire in the lounge and that was it. Going to bed was a nightmare — it was freezing. That harsh winter of 1981 saw snow on the south coast of England, which is indeed a rare thing. There was ice on the inside of the rusting, old metal windows of the house, and the wind howled down the chimneys inside. The house was so cold, we often wore our outdoor clothes inside — and I hated every minute of it.

As one would expect, Mum and down did loads of work on the old place and within a few years it was warm and cosy. Like today, the memories of that time are still very much at the forefront of my mind, especially when it has been as cold and wet as it has been recently. In many ways it is quite nostalgic remembering my childhood and thinking about a time, that although difficult, was also carefree and happy!

I've just finished reading 'Addicted to Anxiety' by Owen O'Kane, a fantastic read, if you suffer with anxiety like me. It has certainly kept my attention during this particularly cold week. Next week I am going to read 'The Passengers on the Hankyu Line' by Hiro Arikawa. This is the second publication I would have read by this author, whose book 'The Travelling Cat Chronicles' kept me gripped, the week before last. In truth, I am reading more now than ever, a book a week. I am thoroughly enjoying that hour each evening before bed, I put aside just for me to read and wind down. This is the way I cope with the winter, and it is wonderful to be reading again, when for so long I didn't.

As well as reading, I am still writing equally, as I always will. This helps me to stay grounded and keep my mind active, recalling events important to me. Also, I am deep diving into YouTube, currently following 'On Tour with Dridgers.' A travel couple from my hometown of Portsmouth are enjoying their best life, travelling the World, especially Asia. Their YouTube channel is honest and down to earth, which I love. These two are keeping me engaged and looking forward to my own travels later this year. YouTube is a great resource for someone like me, always planning mine and Darrell's next trip abroad. As a person who doesn't watch TV, it is the best 'on demand' service there is. I do pay for the premium package, but for the quality of content, it is well worth every cent.

So, there you have it — the winter is here, and I am happy locked away doing the things I love most. I would dearly love to be out and about, walking and jogging, but that just isn't possible. So, until summer returns once again, this is where you will find me. Sat at home blogging, reading a good book or planning my next trip away. Wherever you are in the World, enjoy life and keep on battling. Life can be cold, demanding and a bit 'meh' sometimes, but it is also fun looking forward to something better to come and come it surely will!
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Pipa and Akira enjoying the electric blanket!

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Author

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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A place to call home
Finally, a place we can call home.  A community of like minded individuals, who used to call Britain home.  Now Spain is our choice, an altogether gentler, happier, sunnier and safer experience!
        Luke Feb 16