- Published on
-
-
- Published on
It has been nearly two years since I left Spain to return to the UK, after what I can only describe as a manic time living and working in Gran Alacant. As I look back at that period I am reminded of the difficult journey that Darrell and I travelled, trying to forge a new life in a country both of us loved but knew little about. In this new section of Roaming Brit, I want to relive my experiences in Spain and try to understand just what went wrong. It is true to say our move in 2015 was brought about by adverse circumstances, and we started off our new life in a rather negative way. On the surface this could well have signalled the beginning of the end of our adventure before it even started, but of course our move was significant for many other reasons, not just the turmoil that was the catalyst for our decision to move.
We left Britain behind with some apprehension, neither Darrell nor I knew if our move would work and really had to take a chance, leaping into the unknown and trying to salvage what was left of the life we once had. After a terrible time working for Oxfam and the bullying we endured for many years, we both decided a fresh start was necessary to begin the process of rebuilding and repairing our sense of self-worth. After much research we decided Spain would offer us the best chance of a new life away from the memories of the past. By the time we left the UK, we were both exhausted, ill and shadows of our former self. As I stepped onto the plane with Jamie, a friend who had decided to move with us and Darrell had left Southampton with a single van load of stuff, we were both really unprepared for what happened next. Spain was nothing like we had imagined, it was the beginning of the most difficult time in our life.
After a brief stay in Alicante, we took a taxi to our new home in Gran Alacant, a destination we chose through luck. We saw a house we liked online and immediately contacted the agent a few weeks before our departure. We knew nothing about this small urbanization in the Valencia region, except it was close to Alicante, Benidorm and Torrevieja in the South. It was the ideal choice for our relocation, being close to work and links to Britain. This seemed like the perfect raison d'être on paper and as we drove up to the new house, I was positive about our decision.
The weather was cold, very cold and the house even colder inside. This was the beginning of February and all of us were unprepared for the freezing temperatures that greeted us. When one thinks of Spain, one never imagines for a minute the British like conditions, howling wind and icy cold nights, but Spain in the middle of winter was as bad as Britain, if not worse. The houses were cold, without central heating or carpet and the single glazed windows let in the cold and damp air. Our location at the top of Heart Attack Hill overlooking a ravine was indeed idyllic, but it also left us exposed and vulnerable at a time when the weather outside was decidedly unwelcoming. The first few weeks took some getting used to and all of us suffered to differing degrees.
It was important for me to get out and about as soon as I arrived and not dwell on the past. The predominantly British Expat community would be our home, and we needed to find our place within it, meet the locals and discover just what life was like in Gran Alacant. It didn't take too long to find our way around and introduce ourselves to residents. Daily activities were centred around one of three squares, Plaza Mayor, Sierra Mar and the Centro Commercial, as well as a strip of bars and restaurants at Carabassi at the bottom of the hill we overlooked; everywhere was within walking distance. With beautiful white sandy beaches, just a short walk away, the lifestyle this enclave offered was inviting and popular among the many tourists and second homeowners who lived there! The streets were safe and clean, the locals would say hello, pass the time of day and were generally more approachable. At first this was a little disconcerting, but as time moved on, I became used to this friendly community vibe and grew to love its charm.
The characters that lived and worked in GA, as Gran Alacant is affectionately known were varied and full of surprises. Within a short space of time I had made friends with some incredible people, who went out of their way to help me fit in and adapt to Expat life. Sitting in Dick Turpin, looking out across the square, winter sun high in the sky, warming my cold hands from the night before, I was suddenly at ease, safe and feeling at home. This was the first amicable bar we had stumbled across and I can't fault it in any way. In reality, this was how I pictured life living in the sun and I wanted to make this adventure work. An instantaneous feeling of determination overwhelmed me and I made a pact with myself to do everything possible to remain focused, at a time when I could have so easily let go. After such a horrendous time in the UK before we left, this is when the weight of the World lifted from my shoulders and it was all thanks to those locals who made our first few weeks so memorable, happy and inviting. Gran Alacant was my home, as it still remains today, firmly in my heart, rooted in the memories of an altogether better time!
-
- Published on
-
- Published on
It has been a couple of months since I have done a blog entry. Things have been pretty busy over the last couple of months, which is one of the reasons I haven’t sat down to write anything. There have been a few changes since I last wrote and I’ve started 2020 feeling really positive and really optimistic about the year and the future.
I decided that it was time to really make some changes in my life and take full on ownership of those changes. I started the year by committing to dry January and cutting out alcohol completely for January. It was easier than I thought it was going to be and it was really good to start the year by achieving that.
When I first started this blog I wasn’t happy with my life in lots of ways. I think this is partly down to the way I am, the way I see myself, and the way I see what I should be achieving. I spent a lot of time last year asking questions about myself and what I was capable of. I also spent a lot of time pushing myself – especially in work – always asking questions and constantly challenging myself. ‘What if….?’ was a constant throughout the year.
There is uncertainty in work again – another restructure and there is the risk of redundancy. Not ideal but I have some influence on the roles I can go for and what my capabilities are. I joined a new team around a year ago and felt like I was a very small fish in a very, very big ocean. Over the year I have achieved quite a lot in work, and I am hoping this is both realised and recognised in the selection process.
I’m never one who enjoys taking credit or compliments from others but some of the feedback I’ve received from managers and colleagues leads me to believe I am destined for bigger and better things at work.
When I first started this blog I was determined to complete an ultra-distance marathon. That is still a goal and will be something I achieve. However, I’ve been realistic in terms of my capabilities and set this as a longer term target for either 2021 or 2022.
I am training still and have set myself some more realistic targets for this year, so I can get back into a more varied and structured way of training. I’m hoping that having a variation will also result in me remaining injury free (something that has hampered my training over the last year).
I am planning on doing some running events, a couple of triathlons, some sportive cycle events, and hopefully finish the year with a marathon. Rather than focusing on one event I’ve decided to have smaller targets across the year so I can adapt the training and the focus before taking on that much bigger challenge.
I’ve made a good start to 2020 and I am determined to keep that going. I have people in my life who mean a lot to me, improve my life, make me happy, and make me laugh.
I spent a lot of last year looking at the things and the people who made me feel negative and decided to fully distance myself from them – it was an easy choice to make.
I looked at my own behaviours and what triggers those behaviours – again eliminating the negativity was an easy choice to make.
My mindset has changed for 2020. I used to feel that if I wasn’t achieving everything I needed to then I didn’t have the right to feel happy about things. I felt in constant conflict with myself and I’ve realised that this is not good. We all have a right to be happy and that should be on our own terms and our own terms only. Other people can have an influence on this but it is down to us as individuals to decide how we feel.
-
- Published on
Whether this is an appropriate blog entry so soon after the death of TV presenter Caroline Flack, is a matter of opinion. For me, this is entirely congruous, especially at this time. Turning on ones television set this morning, one couldn't escape the news that Ms Flack, the former host of 'Love Island,' had killed herself as a result of a sustained media campaign to bully and intimidate her because of her involvement in an alleged attack against her then boyfriend Lewis Burton. The circumstances of the incident were fiercely contested by both parties involved, but however, used by the media, especially the British tabloid press, as a catalyst for some truly heinous and provocative headlines. The abuse and mistreatment Caroline endured was most certainly the beginning of the end for the talented television presenter; her untimely death, a reminder of bullying that anyone of us could suffer at any time.
Suicide has played a prominent role in my life I'm sad to say, not in the literal sense, but as an onlooker from the sidelines. I witnessed many young friends take their own lives, because of the turmoil of growing up homosexual at an age when we had no rights as a community. Coming to terms with who we are was a big deal for most us and so many other gay people from my generation.
Psychological and mental health issues were common place amongst my peers. Discovering I was gay was not the liberating experience it is today. I myself suffered trauma and bullying for many years, just because of my sexuality and have contemplated and attempted suicide, because of the negative circumstances I found myself in. Suicide is a deeply personal experience and no one can describe the pain and deep sense of loss and foreboding you go through as a person. Suicide is not an act you consider or carry out lightly, it is a final call for help and a much-needed release from demons you can no longer control.
When Caroline Flack decided to take her own life, she would have been at her lowest ebb and unable to control emotions that she had kept in check for too long. The pressure and attacks she suffered during her final few days and her subsequent death, show just what bullying can do to someone. This was another death where the media had blood on their hands, like so many before. A high profile celebrity if you like, who could no longer cope with the lies and mistruths that were touted as accurate portrayals; nothing could have been further from the truth!
I am sure I will be criticised for writing about the death of a celebrity, whilst commenting on my own experiences, but it is important to express a view freely on controversial subjects that wouldn't otherwise be brought to the attention of the public. Suicide is rarely discussed and the reasons behind it are often covered up and hidden away. Just as I would sit around a breakfast table with my family as a young boy and discuss the daily headlines in the newspaper, so I will communicate my opinion on difficult, uncomfortable topics today. The death of Caroline Flack has highlighted subjects that wouldn't otherwise be talked about and it is the duty of a writer to bring those subjects to the attention of their readers, as I have done in this entry. The stark reality of death has conjured up some uncomfortable memories for me and my family and I feel compelled to write about them, while this talking point remains fresh in my mind.
Nothing can explain just how angry I felt this morning when I heard about the death of Caroline. I didn't know her or even watch any of her shows, but her struggle became a source of personal angst, as I remembered just what had transpired in my life. The bullying I suffered at the hands of others, ending with my time at Oxfam is very much at the forefront of my thoughts once again. The death of a celebrity has reopened some old wounds, recollections I thought were laid to rest but clearly were not.
All of us should mourn the passing Caroline Flack, whether we knew her or not. Another life has been lost to suicide. The reasons why someone chooses to take their own life are complex and unique to each individual concerned. As people, we should all understand the signs that lead to such despair and do all we can to help and understand before passing judgement. Caroline's story is not an isolated one, learning why suicides occur is an important first step in recognising the stigma that surrounds this subject. More lives will be saved if only we took the time to listen!
-
- Published on
The World was a very different place in 1995, when Darrell and I met. For a start both of us were much younger than we are today, still partying for days on end and enjoying the best years of our youth. Darrell was backpacking in Britain, staying with friends Matt and Jimbob in Newbury and spending weekends clubbing and pubbing in Southampton, where I resided at the time. I lived on a gay scene 24/7, my whole life centred around a community of like-minded individuals, coming to terms with their sexuality, navigating their way through life and the daily barrage of abuse, bullying and torment, from anyone who wasn't gay. With no laws in place to protect us and our equal rights, we were very much on our own, trying to make sense of the place we lived in and just how we fitted into the grand scheme of things.
Darrell formed a relationship with a close friend of mine and despite their best efforts to stay together, life became difficult, strained and eventually their fledgling partnership broke down. By the time it ended, I had also become close friends with Darrell and together with my partner at the time, invited him to stay with us, while looking for somewhere more permanent to live. I was never looking for a new relationship, I was at least on the surface happy with my circumstances and although we were getting closer, there were aspects of Darrell's personality I couldn't stand. He was Australian in every sense of the word, arrogant and always right. However, the life I led at the time conspired with my then state of mind to change all that and after a particularly heavy night of partying, we formed a bond that lasts until this day.
Everyone else in the flat above Pinkies Public House was asleep, just Darrell and I sat up, talking and chatting, trying to make sense of the feelings we had for one another. In a short space of time we had fallen in love and wanted to spend the rest of our life together. That morning on the 22nd September was strange, as we left the flat at 3am in the morning to walk to the garage up the road to buy some cigarettes. As we walked we continued to talk, briefly sitting on a wall watching the stars twinkle in the sky. Suddenly Darrell mentioned Australia and how much better one could see the constellations at night and maybe, just maybe I should come home with him, so we could be together away from the pressures of gay life in Southampton. As I sat there thinking, my emotions overtook the reality in my head and I agreed, we should run, run away as quick as we could that very morning and travel to Perth, where we would live happily ever after!
My boyfriend at the time was still fast asleep when we returned to the flat. Both of us walked quietly through the hall way, and up the stairs to the lounge, where Darrell began to pack his things. Meanwhile, I popped into the flat next door, to speak to a friend, Mark about my decision to leave. He was delighted for me, but apprehensive of the path I had chosen. There would be a lot of angry people left behind when I left, but he would do his best to help smooth out the mayhem we were going to leave in our wake. In his words 'Queens can be vindictive at the best of times!' Mark gave me his bank card and said he would put some money in when he could, so I would have something at least. This was 1995, I was unemployed and had very little money to speak of and would have to rely solely on Darrell, as we prepared to leave Britain.
Trying to find my passport was a challenge, as I quietly went downstairs into my bedroom where my parter was sleeping. Trying not to make any noise, I rumbled through draws and cupboards, but to no avail, I just couldn't find the little black book. Eventually I had no choice, waking my boyfriend from his sleep, I asked him gently if he knew where my passport was. Instinctively, he pointed to the dressing table in the corner, but didn't open an eye. Whether he knew I was about to leave or just half asleep and unaware of my plans, I still don't know to this day, but I found the document and left the room, closing the door behind. As my hand sat there for a moment, on the brass door knob, I clung just a bit tighter, not wanting to let go. Was I making the right decision? Did I still have feelings for my boyfriend? Wasn't this just reckless behaviour? I gulped deeply catching my breath, shaking my head back to the reality of here and now. It was time to go, it was time to leave this hell-hole behind!
It was 5am when we departed, the sun was rising in the sky, and we were ready to go. Darrell had packed his belongings, leaving nothing behind, I left with just the clothes on my back. Heart beating faster and faster, anxiety at boiling point we both left for the train station, relieved at not getting caught, happy to be away from the flat. Two impulsive young men, recovering from a night partying, leaving for a new life on the other side of the World. I had no regrets, just a mischievous sigh of anticipation, as we walked the short distance to the station waiting for the first train to London. This was the life changing decision I had been waiting for, for so long, this was the start of a new life away from the pressures of an inward looking vengeful gay scene that had run its course, this was the beginning of the rest of my life!
