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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 have to be made. Illness, family bonds and a Change of heart all make for challenging times in a life of a 'Roaming Brit!'

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Box Full Of Memories!

31/1/2019

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Yesterday I went to visit Mum and Dad at their home in Catisfield. Mum is now out of hospital and has had one of the rooms in their bungalow adapted to take all the equipment needed to make her life a little easier. Mother looked well enough and was on top form, which was good to see. This hasn't been the best of times for my parents and they are both still learning to cope with their new set of circumstances. With a medical bed and hoist installed, life should be a little more comfortable for them in the long run!

When sitting talking to my parents, we do what we always do and started talking about the old days, which does seem a popular subject as we get older and something I enjoy reminiscing about. I have always had an interest in family history and have managed to trace my paternal tree back to the 1540's, so conversing about memories of childhood, Grandparents and events long since past is something I look forward to.


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Dad retrieved several boxes of photographs from the hall cupboard, pictures I haven't seen for many years and it was great having a look though them all. There were old school photo's and numerous old family snaps, documenting different occasions as far back as the 1930s. Of course many of the faces were unknown to me, only brought to life by my parents, who knew those whose lives were captured during a brief moment in time.

One of the photographs that caught my eye was one of my Great Great Grandparents, taken in 1963, celebrating their 60th Wedding anniversary. As someone who has an interest in history, I was already aware of my Great Great Granny Annie, who was born in 1887, although a little confused about the dates. If the records were correct, these two got married in 1903, which would have made her sixteen years old at the time, unheard of today. Not only that but the cake looks like it says 1983, which of course isn't possible. I know many couples did get married in their teens, but by the standards of the day, this does seem particularly young.

My Great Great Grandparents had 22 children. Mum said to me, she was pregnant every single year that she used to go potato picking and was a hard worker during her life, always grafting, always busy. I remember as a child seeing a newspaper clipping from  the 1950s about my relations, who were by all accounts the biggest family in Hampshire at the time and one of the largest in the UK. The history contained in this photograph and many others are invaluable for a historian like me.

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Not only did Dad show me photographs, but there were also lots of documents, which I have yet to go through. One of the interesting pieces of ephemera I found, was the tag used on my cot, in the hospital where I was born, St Mary's in Portsmouth. It includes a wealth of detail, that I wasn't fully aware of. The name on the tag was Martin, which was going to be my original name, until my Grandmother put a stop to it. Apparently the name Martin was associated with a relation from the Liverpool side of our family who was always referred to as a 'snotty nose tyke!' (My Nan was always a bit of a snob!) Shortly afterwards my name was changed to Darren, named after a character from 'Bewitched' a popular television programme at the time.

This small piece of paper also has my weight, head circumference, length and time of birth indicated, details I didn't know, as well as recording the fact I was a forceps  delivery, showing that Mum had a difficult childbirth.

I never actually realised Mum kept all these invaluable documents, hospital wrist band, immunisation certificate and a rather sad letter noting a false or phantom pregnancy Mum suffered in 1969. My Mother truly believed she was pregnant with her first child, she had all the normal symptoms, but sadly it wasn't to be. Mum wanted a baby so much, that her body mimicked her emotional state. It must have been such a difficult time for her, and gives me an insight into just how she was feeling. I can never understand just how important it is for someone to want a child. You hear about couples that can't conceive all the time, but after Mum and Dads Marriage in 1966, they must have experienced those very same feelings; at times, Mum must have felt pained at the prospect of not being able to have kids. Appreciating what others go through, especially those closest is important. Mum has never talked about this period, fifty years ago, but I am now fully aware of just what happened and proud Mum and Dad went on to have my Brother and I, a long and happy marriage and kept such precious memories for me to share with the World.

Memories are important to me; despite being estranged from my kinfolk for may years, I have always regarded my roots as significant, spending a lot of time digitising my life onto computer. I enjoy reliving the past, through photo's and videos, letters and documents, that I have transferred to an single hard drive. It has always been necessary for me to understand the events that shaped my life and the stories that made me the person I am. Without these pointers to the past, I am sure I would forget much of what has happened during my 48 years. I will spend the next few months transferring all my parents evocations to a more usable format and hope that one day others will also be able to add to our life story. Sadly I don't have any children, but my brother does and it is essential they understand the lives of those who are a part of their genealogy. Families are important because they are the links and bonds that keep us together, the catalyst for memories that remain forever and the motivators, and advisors that encourage endeavour.
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Glasses, old age and NOT keeping fit!

27/1/2019

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Well I've finally had to give in to old age and get my eyes tested. I have known for a long time that I have a problem; nothing is in HD anymore, things are looking a bit hazy and I am having difficulty focusing. Today I collected my first pair  of  spectacles, a  throw  back to the 1950s....Apparently they are all the rage at the moment, well so the optician said. I don't think they look too bad, although add years on to me, just all a part of growing old, a fact  I absolutely hate!

When you are in your twenties, you never really consider what it will be like as you grow older. Up until a few years ago, I did everything in my power to look and stay younger. Dying my hair and beard, trying to lose weight, plucking and preening, in fact anything I thought would 'do the job.' The reality is, we all get older and there is nothing we can do about it. The more we try and fight the aging process the more depressed and self conscious we become.

Today I have stopped worrying about my own mortality. I am well aware of my age of course, but I am realistic about my life. I can not live forever, no matter what I do to try and prevent it. I see people going to the gym, keeping fit, eating the right stuff and I understand the importance of looking after myself, especially in middle age, but it isn't at the top of my list of priorities.

Back home in Portsmouth I walk everywhere. With Darrell currently in Australia, it is the only way to get around. Most days I will walk an hour and a half or more, which is amazing for me. I am always on the go, constantly working, so eating healthy does take a back seat. I know I should make more of an effort, but what can I realistically buy to eat, that isn't going to add a few extra pounds in weight? Answers on a postcard please. My weight has stayed constant at fifteen stone six pounds for a few years now, not great for someone who is five foot ten, but a lot lower than I have been. I want to change my current attitude to life, fitness and achieving a healthy body weight, but as yet, do not have the motivation to do so. Maybe that will happen in time, until then I just have to continue travelling down my current path. Although not perfect, it is a start towards a more beneficial lifestyle.

I am attending the 'Well Man Clinic' on a regular basis, having my blood pressure and cholesterol monitored and crucially have stopped smoking, all necessary for long term positive physical and mental health. I have accepted I will have to wear glasses permanently and have started to rebuild my life, after the difficulties of the past and my current family commitments. This is the first time in a longtime I am feeling pragmatic, productive and happy with where I am heading in life. A lot has happened over the last six months, long may it reign!
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Community, Upbringing and Antisocial Behaviour!

24/1/2019

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A few weeks ago, while I was working in the pub, the landlady’s son came through the door with his mate. They had just been attacked by a group of lads, who were wondering the alleys in the less desirable area of Buckland, just over the road from where I am living at my Aunts in Fratton. The area isn’t particularly appealing, with a large block of brutalist architecture, overlooking the main dual carriageway into Portsmouth City centre and it isn’t a place I would choose to live. Having said that, is it right to tar all residents with the same brush? Is everyone that lives there rough, dragged up and generally without a moral compass? Buckland encompasses a large council estate, with many of the poorest people in this great naval city living there - a ghetto for the poor and a utopian idea that went wrong? Or a neighbourhood blighted by a few bad eggs, that suffers from neglect, but essentially has a community spirit, long since lost in other recent soulless, uninspiring developments?

Despite being born in Portsmouth in 1971, I have never actually lived here. I grew up in and around the small village of Titchfield and essentially was sheltered from city life. As a family, we struggled like any other, but none of us really understood what real poverty was about. Mother was always at home to make my Brother and I a meal at lunch and dinner time and my Father worked hard in the same job for many years. As a family we lived within our means but always had enough money to get by. When I look back to those times I am proud of what my parents achieved for us. Both my Brother and I had a good standard of education, working hard at school and enjoyed a pretty comfortable childhood, away from the pressures of poverty, just a few miles down the road.

Mother and Father instilled in both of us, the need to ‘make things last’ and reuse, recycle and hand down material items, not spending unnecessarily. Mum and Dad had the same television set for over twenty years, the sofa even longer, not replaced, but reupholstered when it had seen better days. My parents bought quality items, Gplan furniture, Axminster carpets and Parker Knoll three piece suites, knowing that they would last a generation or more. They saved hard for these things and never got into debt, unlike people today.

Back in the 1970s people understood the value of money and didn’t waste their hard earned cash, equally they appreciated the importance of community and living with like minded individuals, who always looked after their own. As a child I would spend time in and out of neighbours houses, Lee Knight at number 4, Penny Pink at number 5 and Wall and Joan at number 8. If Mum and Dad were busy, doing the garden, cooking dinner or chatting with friends, we would spend time with those who lived close. I remember sat in Wally and Joan's house at the end of the row in Nashe house where we lived, positioned between them both, just like they were my Gran and Grandad. It was a Friday night and ‘It’s a Knockout’ was on the television. Mum and Dad were just a few doors away, finishing some decorating in the kitchen and you could hear Lee, Penny and Mia playing outside. Wall and Joan’s front porch was unlocked, as it always was; various neighbours popping their head round the door from time to time, saying hello and talking for a while, while I sat there oblivious to the big World outside and the difficulties other families were going through, just trying to survive.

I lived on a Council Estate, just like Buckland, not as large or imposing, but social housing nevertheless. The flats were well kept and looked after, there was no violence, old sofas or fridge freezers left outside front doors, just a vibrant community, where everyone worked hard, striving for a better future. During the 1970s there was no real poverty like there is today, of course there probably was, I just didn’t notice it. There were no food banks, rubbish piled in the streets and abusive children, gangs and parents who never should have had kids in the first place. There were just decent families, occasional disagreements and a desire the help one another out when the need arose. Of course this is my view of life back then, the observations I made and recall today. No one really knows what goes on behind closed doors, but I can only speak about my own recollections.

When one walks around Buckland, it is run down, terribly dilapidated and ramshackled. Gangs of youths, wearing hoodies roam the dark poorly lit roads at night and the area is blighted by graffiti, detritus and a lack of community spirit and I generally feel unsafe walking through the estate at any time of day. I must stress that I am not saying the people who live there are all bad, because the majority are not, but unlike when I grew up forty plus years ago, there is a significant majority who are making life hard for everyone else.

Antisocial behaviour is the scourge of 2019. Since I left home in 1992, I have lived in some of the worst places in the World. St Mary’s in Southampton was equally as run down, with prostitutes on every corner and children running riot up and down the roads. In the flat I used to live in, there was always a drug addict in the entrance porch, needles littering the pavement outside and boarded up windows and doors, but I still felt safe and ignored most of what was happening around me. Even then there wasn’t the gangs of youths there are  today, a philosophy imported from the United States of America and this, combined with an influx of drugs and a knife culture out of control, all serves to make many city streets no go areas at night.

Let me include a status I wrote on facebook last night:

‘Walking home from the pub tonight, one could be forgiven for thinking every one under the sun, apart from me was stoned off their box:

Mother of the year, pushing a screaming child around the back streets of Fratton, at 11.30 at night, arguing on her smart phone to what I can only assume was her boyfriend, though I could've been wrong, smoking a well Tailored spliff, flicking ash on the roof of the pram!

...A disabled gentleman in his wheelchair laughing loudly with his mate outside his house, can of craft cider in his hand, puffing away on a joint, taking about the benefits of cannabis...

... The smell of weed wafting out from the keebab house on the corner, as the staff enjoyed a few moments break from doing absolutely nothing…

... Even a big fat black bird, who should have been tucked up in his nest, mistakenly pecking away at the remains of half smoked reefer believing it to be something edible!

It's only when you are sober that you notice these things...’


This was a snapshot of life, as I left my place of work and headed home, after a night at the Newcome where I work; a typical evening in Fratton as I walked home after a quite Monday night shift. I wasn’t disgusted by what I saw, I was just rather sad. Drugs exist wherever you go and people will always take them, but this type of behaviour just adds to the run down nature of the communities in which we live today. In itself it isn’t a real issue and I don’t have a problem with anyone smoking a joint, but what does worry me, is the type of individuals who sell this stuff, engaging in illegal activity to fund a lifestyle that breeds contempt towards local residents, who just want to claim their neighbourhoods back. By all means have a smoke now and again if that is what you want, but the Government should regulate the market, as they do in Holland and other countries, keeping the streets safe for everyone to use.

I am happy to once again be a part of a busy and thriving neighbourhood. This area does have its complications and shortcomings but as a rule people get on with one another. The pub in which I work is typical of all those who live here. A back street boozer, with an identity rich in character from the numerous personalities who drink in this local hub. Fratton is made up of many diverse people and represents Britain at large, a small example of modernity in these British Isles. In order to get back to a past that so many like me, look back too without regret and foreboding, we need to tackle problems of poverty, education and encourage equality and accountability. Once we remove the trash from the streets, we can all get back to doing what we do best, fighting for a future, fit for all!

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Nostalgia!

24/1/2019

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I’m getting older; at 48 years old, I never truly believed I would make middle age. Yesterday I was 21 years old, over night I changed, grew older, got greyer, balder and started to recall memories I thought I had forgotten. Tonight I have just watched the ‘One Show,’ a rare thing for me; I don’t often get time to sit down and watch TV. In this topical magazine programme, they had a segment on ‘nostalgia,’ remembering the ‘good old days’ and looking back towards better times. Of course not all of the past was good, but as people we do tend to only remember the happy times and for me I look back with fondness at my childhood, in a way, I never thought I would!

On Roaming Brit, I do write about my childhood experiences often in ‘Short Stories From My Youth,’ it is a part of my legacy, that I want to leave for family and friends to read. I have become far more aware of my own mortality in recent times, especially now, approaching my fifties and I do find myself looking back to the 1970s with special significance. Reflecting is a mechanism I use to feel at ease, comfortable and confident with my own sense of well-being. My happiness today is firmly built around my ability to recall events forty or more years ago, remembering what made me the person I am today.

Everything was so much simpler when I was a wee lad; the days seemed longer, the family was bigger and I had more friends than I can remember. There were so many personalities in and out of my life, I just can’t recall all of them today. Everyone was an Uncle or Aunt, there were Cousins and neighbours, popping round for a cup of tea or a Harvey’s Bristol Cream and there were always visitors patting you on the head, rubbing your hair or kissing you on the cheek, leaving a trail of saliva in their wake. There were so many characters in fact that loneliness was never an option; just fun filed days exploring a brand new World of excitement, new experiences and places yet to explore!

During the 1970s, I built friendships and relationships with others on a face to face basis, there was no social media or computers, smart phones or tablets, there was just good old fashioned talking or a phone box conversation at the end of the road, spending two pence to speak in secret with my friend in Abbey Field Drive. All of my peers lived a short distance away, spending time in and out of each others houses, enjoying the best of childhoods. None of us came from wealthy families, but we all had enough to get by. There were no designer clothes and expensive trainers, just home cut hair and hand me down clothes!

These are the days I remember; much simpler, Christmas lights shining brighter, snow falling deeper, the sun shining brighter. These are the events that shaped my character, taking a trip down memory lane, harking back with thought and fervour, during trying and testing times. These were the special moments so important for me today, these were the beginnings of independence, during the best days of my life.


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Bags of Help!

24/1/2019

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On Wednesday, I was filmed for the Tesco 'Bags of Help' campaign, highlighting the importance of giving each customer a blue token, every time the conclude their shop in store. Apparently I was chosen because of my love of selfies!

The 'Bags of Help' campaign began in 2015 and Tesco has donated over 43 million pounds to over 10,000 community initiatives across England, Scotland and Wales. Money from carrier bag sales is used to fund local programmes in its 565 regions. Grants of one, two and four thousand pounds is distributed according to the amount of blue tokens collected for each project!

As a champion of the good work charities do, I was delighted to be filmed by Portsmouth University and look forward to seeing the finished video. Anything we can do, to help our local neighbourhood, is important, to ensure we all live the lives we deserve. Thanks to Tesco, many local organisations can apply to obtain funds for their campaigns, working together to build a better future for all.

If you wish to apply for funding, please click on the 'Tesco, Bags of Help' logo below!
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Mannequin!

23/1/2019

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I'm not sure what Jules and I were up to this week at Cancer Research, but we certainly had a good laugh, as we do every Monday.

First and foremost I volunteer to help a charity close to my heart. With the death of my Aunty Carol last week from ovarian cancer, it is important for me now, more than ever, to keep doing my bit to make cancer history!
On Monday Jules and I was asked to make up one of the many mannequin's we currently have in the shop, in order to sell them. An odd thing for customers to buy, I hear you ask, but you would be surprised at the interest shown. If you want to purchase one of the mannequins please don't hesitate to contact Zerina or Jo at the shop in Commercial Road, Portsmouth. You wont be disappointed, and should have hours of fun with your chosen model, just like I did, in a fun filled few hours, dressing 'Tania' for her public debut!

Telephone Cancer Research on: 023 9282 3670
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Change of Plan!

21/1/2019

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A week ago, I was planning a trip to China to meet Darrell for a holiday in May. I chose the country because it was a half way point for us both to meet, without me having to travel all the way to Australia, where Darrell is currently living, caring for his Mother. A few days ago, along with my Aunt who is also travelling with me, we decided to change our destination. The process of obtaining visas was just too painstaking and difficult to achieve before our planned departure on the 29th April. Trying to co-ordinate Chinese paperwork and the booking of flights and hotels, with a month to go and no guarantee of having the application accepted was just too much of a risk to take. I didn’t want to arrange a holiday, that was going to cost thousands of pounds, with only a few short weeks before our departure. If the visa was turned down at the last minute, we would have both lost a substantial amount of money.

Last week we looked at the alternatives and came up with a new plan of action. Rather than flying to China, we have decided to visit four Asian Countries in three weeks, quite an undertaking when you consider the distances involved. First we will fly to Vietnam as originally planned, followed by Hong Kong; onwards to South Korea and finally to Cambodia.

There is a lot to plan before we go. I am interested in visiting the demilitarised zone in South Korea and want to experience the real Asia while I am there. Street food, sight seeing and occasional relaxation is top of my list of things to do. I haven’t had a holiday in three years now, so am looking forward to my time away from the UK. I am however disappointed that I will not be able to visit China, my destination of choice, but the archaic process of navigating this country is just too demanding, especially as independent tourists.

This will not be a cheap undertaking, we will not be backpacking while we are away. We will be staying in first class hotels and an apartment in Seoul. I want to experience the real South Korea, as I know my Aunt does, so living and shopping as the South Koreans do for a week will be an unforgettable experience. I know I speak for all of us, when I say how important it is to travel unaided. I have never been a person who likes to stick to a schedule, eat at set times and follow a strict itinerary; I need to travel freely, at my own pace and do what I want, not what I am told. This is not an easy option, but it will be a character building exercise, full of new and wonderful encounters, that none of us will forget in a hurry. Above all it will allow Darrell and I to spend a short time together, before he returns to Australia and I go back to the UK. My life may well be difficult at the moment, but it certainly isn’t dull. How many people get to travel as extensively as I do? Not many, that's for sure!

With only a few months to go, we all have a lot of organising to do and money to save, but the end result will be worth it. Any advice from the readers of ‘Roaming Brit’ is of course welcome. If you have journeyed to any of the countries we are visiting, please don’t hesitate to get in touch!

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Remembering Aunty Carol!

17/1/2019

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On Monday, I sadly lost my Aunty Carol, after a five year battle with Ovarian Cancer. My Aunt was a very special lady, someone I will miss dearly, as I know all our family will. Despite her own difficulties in life Carol always had time for others; for me she was a link to a family I thought I had lost forever. She was the bridge to my Mother and Father at such a crucial time for us and she was in part responsible for the relationship I now have with my parents.

Aunty Carol was first and foremost a family person; anyone who knew her could see the amazing bond she had with her children and Grandchildren. As a unit they were close, it showed in the rapport all of them had together. I attended a family function in the local village hall we had always used as a family, to celebrate milestones in all our lives, on my return from Spain in May last year. I was immediately transported back to my childhood, surrounded by those closest; Aunts, Uncles and numerous Cousins and at the centre of it all with my Cousin Carrie-Anne, helping to make sure everything ran smoothly, was my Aunty Carol. My own immediate family, were never close and I always looked towards my Aunt to give direction and gently encourage me to do the right thing.

For many years I was distant from most of my maternal family; my Great Aunt Carol however was always in contact, keeping me updated on family events, births, deaths and marriages and how she was keeping, as her health deteriorated. So despite my estrangement from the majority of my relatives, I still had a relationship with my Aunt, who was a great source of inspiration and support, during some very challenging times. I was always pleased to hear from her and looked forward to receiving her messages. Equally Carol was one of the few people who was in regular contact with my Mother and Father and gradually over time, she persuaded me to contact my parents once again and begin the process of building a new relationship with them.

I became closest to my Aunt while living in Spain. I found my time in Gran Alacant isolating and lonely, consequently messaging my Aunt more regularly; she was a link to my family that I was missing and wanted to once again contact, beginning the process of rebuilding a connection. I needed to open a channel to my parents and carol was the one who helped me do that, eventually re-establishing a relationship and facilitating our meeting on my return to the UK.

I saw Aunty Carol a few weeks ago, just before she died. She was on the same ward as my Mother at The Queen Alexandra Hospital in Portsmouth. She was in a private room, at the end of the corridor, to try and keep her as far away from other patients as possible. She was undergoing Chemotherapy at the time and was extremely prone to infection.

I was lucky enough to spend an hour talking with my Aunt and Uncle, which was a special time for me. We spoke about the old days, family life and what the future holds. Carol was upbeat and chipper, as she always had been, despite the pain she was experiencing; her loss of hair and mobility issues, irrelevant as she expressed the love she had for her family. She was immaculately dressed as usual, her nails, perfectly manicured, articulate and happy be around those who loved her. As we spoke, I became fully aware of her enduring agony and discomfort and the courage she was showing under the most extreme circumstances. This was a woman who had great strength of character and put others before her own self interest, this was someone who had done everything possible to watch her family grow. Battles are won through the hearts and minds of those who play a part; she remained unassailable right to the very end!

I will miss my Aunt terribly, she was a great source of comfort  at  troublesome times. She leaves behind a legacy that includes a wonderful family and a positive outlook on life, two things I have taken to heart and will continue to live by, as I move towards my fifties. I was lucky enough to play a small role in her life and will always remember the happy times I spent in her company, as I know everyone who knew her will as well. Rest in peace dear Aunt, I will see you one day again I'm sure. Until then, keep smiling down, watching over everyone who loved you, looked up to you and remembers you for the amazing, beautiful, unique person you were!

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Catch Up!

14/1/2019

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Despite having another busy week, I have managed to catch up with a few friends and family. Work has obviously taken priority over many other aspects of my life at the moment, as I save hard for my trip to China in May. Staying in contact with those closest should be more of a priority, but we all lead busy lives and inevitably socialising does take a back seat!
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On Monday I was able to briefly catch up with a friend Giles, who had travelled from his home in Liverpool to work at the Kings Theatre for the pantomime season. It was good to see a friendly face, someone I have been in contact with for probably five years now. Sadly through lack of time, I was also working at the Newcome Arms, serving customers, whilst chatting to Giles, but that didn't detract from the conversation. I was happy to talk to someone who actually understands me, more than most!

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On Wednesday I went out with my Cousins Chris and Maria; along with my Aunt Trisha, we had a meal at the Cobra Indian Restaurant in North End Portsmouth. It was fantastic chatting with family; I haven't seen these two in quite a while now. Talking about Mum and Dad, Aunts and Uncles and the difficulties we are all facing as a family is important, to help deal with the problems of old age and illness. Chris and Maria have always been a great source of support, they have had to deal with their own issues, when Christopher's Mother, my Great Aunt went into care, so I always value their advice, which is always honestly given!

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Yesterday I met my Cousin Joe and his new partner Julianna at the Newcome before I started my shift. Once again it was good to touch base with another member of my family and to meet the lovely Julianna, who seems like a great girl. As Joe said to me, 'we all need someone in our life' and of course he is right. He made me think about my partner Darrell in Australia and just how difficult it is living apart at this time.

It is strange, I have so many people around me at the moment, that I barely have anytime to myself, but I don't have the one person who really matters here with me. Both of us are managing to cope as best we can but it isn't the same as being together. Seeing Joe happy with his new partner was a reminder of what I am missing. I look forward to the day when Darrell and I can finally share our life with all those who are now a big part of mine!

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Coming Home!

14/1/2019

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When writing my blog, I rely heavily on the community in which I live, whether that was in Spain or now in my home City of Portsmouth. I am lucky to have contact with many different people on a daily basis, through work and at home, so I do get most of my ideas from these wonderful characters, that I just happen to cross paths with; real life stories from those who matter are important. Not everyone has the luxury of being able to write or express their views, like me, so I am happy to facilitate their experiences and stories on my blog. Today I wanted to mention an exchange of views with a customer and friend I know from the pub where I work. In the hospitality trade, you do have many conversations with people about some very interesting subjects; politics, sport and local difficulties being just three. Yesterday I ended my shift speaking with a regular about his life in Portsmouth, what makes him tick and why he loves this city so much.

The demographic of the  neighbourhood where I live in Fratton, is a mix of local people who have lived here all their lives, students attending Portsmouth University, service men and women who have relocated here for work and a large diverse ethic population. Fratton isn’t a perfect middle class idyll on the south coast of England, it is a down to Earth, at times gritty, working class and typically unrelenting, urban town, with all the problems that come with that label. Unemployment, poverty and a determination to keep battling on, forging its own unique identity in the structure of Portsmouth, is important to everyone who lives here!

I was interested in why people have stayed in this neighbourhood, many all their lives, JC gave me many answers to why he lives here now and intends to remain so. This intelligent man is an indelible part of Fratton, he isn’t extraordinary, he isn’t rich, he isn’t well travelled, but he is happy, content and thankful for being a part of the community in which he lives. JC is well known, liked and full of stories to tell; he has indeed become a great source of inspiration for me. I was told in no uncertain terms, that this is his home and God help anyone who tries to take that away from him. JC has seen a lot of changes, most not for the better, he even spent time travelling and living in a van, looking for new horizons, adventures and experiences to share, but significantly, he came home and remained in a place he loves. Surprisingly he isn’t jealous of others international escapades, wads of cash in their pockets or high brow lifestyles, he is just satisfied living and working in Fratton; he couldn’t care less about others opinions or attitudes to life, he is more than comfortable being who he is!

My life was very different. I have an Australian partner and have lived both in Australia and the UK. I have travelled extensively, all over the globe and have also resided in Europe. As soon as I was able, I left Britain, to make my own mark on the World. I made many mistakes and chose many wrong paths, but essentially I left my roots behind and looked outwards towards the cities in the sky, ending up today back home in the place of my birth. I rejected my childhood and wanted something better, always looking for happiness, but never really finding it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my partner, but I have never found a place to settle, make a home and live the rest of my days. I have returned now and am enjoying spending time with family; I actually haven’t felt this good in a long time, but I am realistic about just what happens next.

Unlike JC, I am not completely comfortable with living in a small neighbourhood, where everyone else knows you, has an opinion about your life or passes judgement on your indiscretions. I do get bored easily and am constantly looking for something better, something new, something I am missing out on; I need to keep moving, hopefully onto bigger and brighter things.

A lot of the time I am deluded about the future, The grass isn’t necessarily greener, as I found out, moving to Spain and I have missed out on a valuable part of life, family, friendships and integrating with those I live and work with. I haven’t formed many lasting bonds in recent years because I haven’t stayed in one place long enough and in retrospect, miss that side of life.

‘Coming home’ has given me a beneficial and constructive insight into what could have been or what could be in the future. I am getting used to this new role, embracing a different way of thinking and grasping opportunities when they arrive. I am not for one minute claiming to be a born again local boy, happy to stay in Pompey forever but I am doing my best to ‘fit in’ and taking each day as it comes. There is nothing to say I will be here in a few months time, but for now this really is home and who knows in time, especially as I get older, approaching my fifties, I may well decide to stay and live as JC lives, content to leave my past behind!

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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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