Our first time back in Fremantle in three years. It's been a particularly rough few months for me, so a few days off, enjoying the sun in my favourite part of Perth was welcome. I don't relax much these days, but it was nice to just have some time out with Darrell and a Dana. Fremantle was our first home in 1995 and it remains a special place for both of us!

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!

Eight years ago, I was trying to make sense of traumatic events that were shaping my world. 2015 was not the greatest year of my life, but it was, however, one that would teach me much about people and the lengths they will go to, to cause harm to others. Darrell and I went through a torrid time; abused and attacked by people we thought were friends and colleagues, we made a life-changing decision to leave Britain and restart our life far away from the nightmare engulfing our every waking hour.

We both had good jobs, worked hard, and did our best to help others when we could. We had a lot of people around us, some good, some bad, but as we stumbled through that painful thing called life, we felt happy and secure with the characters that made up our close circle of friends. These were positive people in the main, and as our circumstances changed, and my health began to suffer, we were lucky enough to have the support of some truly amazing individuals.

It was difficult to understand what was happening to me, and even harder to determine just who to trust. I was aware that something strange was happening, but I just couldn’t understand what. Writing down my thoughts and feelings, was a way of coming to terms with situations that were beyond my control. It allowed me to express my emotions in a way I wouldn't otherwise have been able to. The turmoil that was overwhelming me, was difficult to fathom, but by documenting events, I could begin to discover the reasons behind my immense feeling of sadness.

I have written much about that time in 2015 - not all of it legible, much of it rambling, and all of it difficult to reread. The bullying that made me who I am today, had been methodically collated in abraded unedited paragraphs, that painted a picture of mistreatment and intimidation. Even today, I haven’t read my original blog; the trauma I suffered is just too recent, and the effects too raw.

The decisions Darrell and I made in 2015 were the catalyst for a journey we are both still on today. After a life spent together in the UK, we decided to sell up, move away and leave Britain for good. After our marriage in September 2015, we embarked on a new life in Spain, and the darkness that surrounded my first blog all but disappeared. I continued to write about the confusing occurrences, that prompted our departure with gusto, but my melancholia had turned into anger and rage at what had happened. In beautiful, idyllic surroundings, I was able to sit with a clear head, and finally understand just what brought me to Spain.

Spain was an enlightening experience, it finally gave me a reason to live again. I was the happiest I had been in a long time and the stress and depression of 2015 gradually began to diminish and dwindle, finally subsiding into obscurity, as my new life in Gran Alacant became my priority.

Writing about my adventure on the Costa Blanca became a cleansing and cathartic exercise. Each day, I wrote about the mundane aspects of Spain, the cost of living, friends and the milestones that became so important, as I integrated into Expat life. Even when Darrell had to return home to Australia, while his Mother went through treatment for cancer, I still wrote - engaging, contented words linked to a country and a dream I could finally call home. This was the most free I had felt in years, and I was finally doing what I wanted, not what others expected me to do.

Our Spanish dream was not meant to be, and I was just grateful to have lived there, for as long as I did. As Darrell's Mother got worse and my Mum was taken into hospital, we left Gran Alacant, Darrell returning to Australia, me moving in with my Aunt in the UK, to be close to my Mum during the final years of her life. I was back in a Country I despised, but surrounded by loved ones, and I made the most of what I had left.

I spend four productive years in Portsmouth, surviving against all the odds, building up a substantial amount of money during the pandemic and working in a job I loved. Even while working, often long unsociable hours, I was able to keep writing and documenting some truly historic times. The streets were empty, businesses were closed, and I explored a city I knew little about, despite being born there in 1971.

The years I spent with family were bitter-sweet. In the main, they were good; I got to know my Aunt and Cousins well and loved every minute I spent with them. All of them gave me a reason to live, especially when Darrell was trapped in Australia at the height of the pandemic. I celebrated some important landmarks with my kin folk, my 25th wedding anniversary and my 50th Birthday and despite the sadness I felt, not having Darrell with me, I was content with family who supported and loved me.

Like most good things in life, times changed, and the fruitful, hard-working period I enjoyed in Portsmouth turned sour. Suddenly, the people I loved were no longer there. Affection turned to hate and resentment and by the time Darrell returned to the UK, my days in Portsmouth were already numbered. Once again, my blogging turned dark as unhappiness and dejection became the prominent feature in my life. It was time to move on and leave the past behind. Even the ones you love the most can hurt you, but I wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness, and I am glad to be away from people who made my final months in the UK some of the most hurtful and miserable in my life.

Of course, it didn’t all end so badly; I made some amazing friends in Portsmouth who will always be with me. They were the saving grace and a reason to write happy and uplifting thoughts, even during the most upsetting of times. The closing few weeks before we left for Australia were filled with love, laughter and unforgettable memories; everything else didn’t matter any more. We could leave with our heads held high on the final leg of our eight-year journey and a desire to finally be free.

When faced with unsurmountable challenges, Darrell and I always walk away. Both of us hate confrontation and with the stability that kept us together as a family crumbling, it was once again time to say goodbye. Australia is the final stop on a deeply personal and challenging eight years. When I decided to start blogging in 2015, I could never have predicted where I would be today. In April 2023, Darrell and I are living the quiet life down under; both of us have fantastic jobs and have bought a new home together. As our eyes look towards the future, I remember the immortal words I wrote all those years ago ‘ live life better, achieve everything you desire and don’t let the bad times destroy your future.’ We have done this unreservedly and continue to strive for prosperity in this unforgiving World!

... And finally, I would like to wish all my readers a very happy Easter, and thank you for your continual support!

Today, I finally have some time to myself, something I just do not have as a rule. Life has become rather busy for me in every aspect; I am spending more time at work and trying to keep myself busy, every day. Since returning from Spain, I have made a conscious effort to work hard and at the moment, I have a need to do far more than I otherwise would. I have a number of projects I need to save for, as Darrell and I look towards a future based in Europe; this remains our overriding priority. At this moment in time, I am happy to be concentrating on me and Darrell and even though it may seem selfish, I do not care what people think. We have both gone through life caring too much about others and what they may or may not feel, and it has got us nowhere. This is a time for us and succeeding where we have too often failed in the past.

As a person, I am approachable, welcoming, and open; I enjoy spending time with friends and family and want to help where I can. Both Darrell and I have been taken advantage of in the past and every time we have fallen for manipulative, dishonest, dubious characters, again and again. This has always been our Achilles heel and in recent times I have done everything I can to avoid similar situations and most importantly, toxic people.

I could write a book about toxic people, they have played a prominent role in my life, from early adulthood onwards. It is only now, I can claim to finally be a good judge of character. I can spot a bad person a mile off and will always run for the hills in the metaphoric sense. The old me would do everything to help change someone for the better, give them a leg up, roof over their head or a few quid in their pocket if they needed it. The new me is completely different; sadly, I will not get involved in other people's lives and will generally do my best to walk away, when I should probably help. I have been bitten so many times in the past, that I have the scars to prove it; the memories reinforce my current way of thinking, that I can not, and will not, do anything that will affect me or Darrell negatively.

Despite past efforts, I have nearly always been left feeling empty, abused and mistreated. There has not been one occasion where I have been appreciated for helping someone, every single time has left me depressed and down. My own mental health has suffered terribly over the years, not because of me, but because other people have quite simply taken advantage of my good nature. Darrell has always said, 'they see me coming,' and I need to harden up and not give so much to people who don't deserve it. I would of course politely listen, take on board what he was saying, and then promptly do the complete opposite. Today I am very different and if I am honest have learnt the hard way. It isn't until you have reached the bottom that you can really see where you went wrong, and after nearly fifty years, I can finally see the chaff from the wheat.

Today, I don't suffer fools gladly and will often walk away from people at the first sign of trouble. If the alarm bell starts ringing in my head, then I use that as a sign to move on. How many chances should we actually give someone, before finally giving up? Well now, I give no chances, all part of a learning process that has left me feeling pessimistic and downbeat, but sanguine for the future. The fact that I have learnt to deal with the worst society throws my way, leaves me hopeful, that I won't slip up and dramatically fail as I have done in the past. I may well feel melancholy at the moment, but I am aware I won't always feel that way.

From politicians getting away with lies and falsehoods, to a manipulative, abusive antagonist, hurting anyone who doesn't agree with their views and a Mother screaming at her child in the street, I have had it all this week. I have been left feeling emotionally exhausted and can't for the life of me, fathom why people have to be so cruel.

There isn't much I can do about the wider World, mad President Putin in Russia, Boris Johnson getting away with yet another lie or the horrifying prospect of President Trump in the Whitehouse yet again. However, I can stop the rot on my doorstep and remove the most destructive influences in my own life. It is difficult to describe my thoughts and emotions to someone who doesn't understand or indeed care, but writing this entry today, has at least allowed me to offload the anxiety I currently feel. There is so much turmoil in the World at the moment, that my own personal demons  and the friction I witness on a daily basis almost pales into significance. The fact it remains a constant source of pain, shows the impact it has on me and the people around me. Despite trying to block out the apprehension I feel, it just doesn't go away and when you experience the week from hell, you just need to lock yourself away.

The cathartic nature of blogging is the key to my sanity and the reason I continue to write. Without publicly acknowledging how I feel, I wouldn't be able to understand the warning signs, I missed in the past. Reading back over the events of the last seven years, since I started this blog, I have finally been able to move forward. Discarding the mistakes of the past and understanding the nature of individuals, my writing quite simply remains as a warning to do better in the future!

We all have those times when we are feeling low and just don't want to communicate with the World. These are the difficult periods that we would rather forget, the days we lock ourselves away from everyone and the times we can't cope any more. I am a strong advocate of solitude and spending time on my own. For me, it is a great healer and allows me a valuable breathing space. Able to finally relax, I can ponder issues and problems I have been wrestling with for some time.

As a child, I spent more time on my own than not; the truth is, I preferred my own company and my overactive imagination, that ran riot in the privacy of my own room. One has to remember, I have always written, since I was a young boy, so sitting quietly on one's own was part of the course. Whether keeping a journal or composing a short story, I was happy to remain cut off, aloof from everyone, writing my thoughts down on paper. I suppose I was one of the lucky ones, who enjoyed my own company, never getting bored and always actively writing or productively procrastinating in some form.

For a long time, I forgot how to express myself through words; after University, I became absorbed in the local gay scene and lived life to the full. I partied every night, was always out and about, visiting this person or that, and never had the time to articulate my feelings as I would have liked. There was a huge period, where I didn't document my life, as I do now, and that angers me. At a time when I should have expressed how I felt, whilst growing up gay, I was too busy getting drunk and hiding who I really was.

Coming out of one's shell and becoming the person I was meant to be, isn't necessarily a bad thing. Surrounded by like-minded individuals, who had the same outlook on life, facing the same challenges and problems, was a liberating experience. It felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders and the new me was out and proud for all the World to see. However, it wasn't quite that simple. I turned into a person I didn't really recognise; the quiet, studious, methodical and yes at times melancholy teenager had turned into a full on, in your face, camp, bitchy, sarcastic 'Queen,' who only cared about himself. If I look back to my life nearly thirty years ago, this is a period of great regret; I lost touch with the person I was and the dreams and aspirations I had!

Despite the hedonistic life I was leading, I did find some time to lock myself away and reflect on the 'madness.' My concentration span was practically non-existent back then, so I couldn't have written an extensive blog of my life, like today, I just didn't have it in me. I would often write poetry, expressing how I felt. The words were often difficult to decipher, incoherent and rambling; it was clear I was suffering from depression and anxiety, despite my new-found freedoms. As I became engrossed in the scene, I became more uptight and embittered  and the frustration I felt surfaced at the most inopportune moments. Arguing more, I pushed others away, and fell out with people almost on a daily basis. I had become a nasty individual, selfish, bombastic and unrecognisable. I needed time to myself more than ever, yet never seemed to get it. Able to look back subjectively today, I am able to see just what went wrong and more importantly why.

Without those reflective periods of solitude, I changed dramatically as a person. I, no longer, had space; there was so much inner conflict between the real me and the fake, false caricature I often portrayed, that my mental health was suffering as a result. If I had taken even a brief moment to step away, I could have seen just what was going wrong, but I barely had time to think, let alone concentrate on the bigger picture. The seclusion I craved then, is no different to the 'me time' I demand now; in contrast, I have it in spades today, as much as I want. I've learnt lessons and changed as a result; I no longer ignore what my head is telling me. Blogging has allowed me to pick up where I left off and once again do what I love most.

In 2021, I spend most of my days off on my own, writing, recording and  reflecting on each week, discussing events and circumstances that have played a role over the last seven days. After surviving difficult times in my life and realising just how much time I need for myself, I have been able to work alongside my commitments and produce writing I am proud of. Presently, I write at any given opportunity, it gives me the focus I need to get through each day and reminds me to recall events that resonate with my sense of well-being. Finding an equilibrium between writing and working has been important in my quest for balance, and I like to think I have finally achieved it. Only time will tell whether it works long term, or once again I will have to rethink the direction I am travelling in, in order to navigate this crazy word successfully. Cautious optimism, a return to solitude when necessary, and the ability to say 'NO' is my key to success in an unforgiving World.

I have always encouraged myself to tell the truth, even in the  most difficult of circumstances, it's the reason I decided to call myself 'The Real Truth Blogger.' Writing about my experiences in life, in the most sincere way possible, has always been my mantra. I have never looked at life through rose-tinted glasses or been under any illusions about the mistakes I have made and the challenges that have brought me to where I am today. My life is hard; the lifestyle choices I made many years ago have come back to haunt me, and I am fully aware of the difficult road ahead, because I have been here before. The stories I write, blogs I compose and memories I reflect upon, are as honest as I believe they should be. Nevertheless, all of us, even me, try to remember the best of times, often leaving traumatic accounts locked away, rarely seeing the light of day.

I have had an amazing life and been to places, that others could only dream of. I have partied, sometimes for days on end, and lived abroad, meeting some wonderful people. Never staying in one place too long, I have rarely settled for any length of time; despite this, I have a loving husband, who I adore more now, than ever. Living an alternative life, full of spontaneous adventure, excitement and amazing experiences has been truly fantastic, but it really is only half the story. Isn't it true, that we only want to remember those productive and uplifting moments, papering over the cracks and larger gaping wounds, that only show people what we want them to see?

We live in such an image conscious World, that being truthful has become a dying art. Airbrushing photos, applying a filter to our face and deleting bad pictures and memories have become commonplace. You could be forgiven for believing all our lives are a scene from the 'Truman Show,' perfect in every respect, faultless and without complication and hardship. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth; I am as guilty as anyone for concentrating my endeavours on happy events and milestones and ignoring the more controversial occurrences that define us as individuals.

I write about my childhood often, a time I find difficult to comprehend, even now after thirty-five, forty years. The narrative, is often reflective of favourable situations and occasions and tends to skip over the role negativity played. For the most part, I had a particularly unhappy childhood, but that isn't always echoed in the words I write. Apart from the odd one of two traumatic scenarios, it feels as if I have forgotten the damn right destructive days, that far outweigh the creativity I like to express.

Childhood trauma can be hard to remember; I have tried to forget most of the bad days, many too painful to recall. When it comes to writing about the most distressing periods I have lived through, I have unconsciously forgotten the worst details, often afraid to dig deep enough. Even now, as I compose this entry, I understand just how harrowing my life was at times, but I don't remember the details well enough to include them in this blog.

Just because my life is relatively fortuitous today, it doesn't mean it always was. Growing up gay in the 1970s/80s, alone, with very few friends, has had a very damaging effect on my wellbeing. The depression and anxiety I suffer with, today, is a direct response to the circumstances that surrounded my youth. Sitting down quietly, remembering with fondness a time I hated with a passion, is an escape from reality, that allows me to concentrate on the heart-warming anecdotes. These tend to remain at the forefront of my mind, overriding all the heartache and anguish that really should be addressed.

Of course confronting one's demons isn't an easy task, and I have at least started to analyse a past that was littered with self loathing, insecurity and fear. This blog is primarily about documenting events and expressing myself, as I struggle through life's ups and downs. It is also about remembering a past that wasn't always prosperous or constructive, and recalling a journey that hasn't been easy. As I have become more self-aware, I have also become uncompromising in my search for the truth, about who I am and what has made me the walking catastrophe I was born to be.

It is hard coming to terms with one's failings in life, but it is harder ignoring the significance they play in one's future direction. In order to move on, move forward, without the constraints of the past, I do have to learn from the mistakes I made. Accepting the consequences of my actions and never repeating them again, creates a chance for  a new beginning and a catalyst for change, even at fifty years of age!