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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!
Pipa and Akira enjoying the electric blanket!
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Today, as part of a series of blogs, celebrating mine and Darrell 30 years together, I am writing about the attachment we both have, to various adopted homes across the World. Darrell and I have done a lot of travelling since we met in 1995 and have lived in a good few places, both in the UK and further afield. You won't be surprised to hear, we have built many emotional attachments to various countries, during our 30-year relationship. We have lived in the UK, Spain and Australia and even brought a house in France. We were both born to travel, and that will never change, no matter where we are in the World.
Currently based in Australia, I think it's safe to say we both yearn for Europe. When we bought our house in France, back in the early 2000s, we both had a dream to live on the continent. Buying a small stone cottage, in the village of Le Lande St Simeon, in Swiss Normandy, meant we finally had a foothold in Europe. Of course back then, we had no idea where we really wanted to be, so bought our house, site unseen, in the hope it would become our forever home. At the time, thousands of Brits were buying up property, especially in France, and we didn't want to miss the bus, so to speak. A small house in France, was a big step on our journey together and the beginning of a love affair, that is still very much alive today.
2000 - 2004 was a productive time for both of us, running our own business in Salisbury. Our time was valuable, and although we travelled to France once a month, our commitments prevented us from taking our French dream any further. Instead, we bought a holiday home up north in the UK and another house to rent out, not too far from our new home in Lancashire. Eventually, we made the difficult decision to sell the French house and concentrate on setting up our life together in the UK. Despite this, our European dream was still there and both of us longed for a new life away from Britain.
Nearly fifteen years after we bought our house in France, we finally realised our dream once again. After our marriage in 2015, we packed our bags and left the UK, heading to Gran Alacant on the Costa Blanca and a new adventure in Alicante. This was a place we could finally call home, and we both fell in love with this little urbanization, just fifteen minutes from Alicante Airport. We had finally found somewhere we both loved and began planning for a future in Spain. Of course, it had its ups and downs, but this was what we both wanted and were determined to make this new journey work for the both of us!
Unforeseen circumstances changed our whole outlook on Spain, just a few months after we arrived. Although we loved everything about our life in Gran Alacant, it just wasn't to be. When I look back now, I am sad we didn't fight harder to stay. At the point we both finally felt settled, both our respective parents fell ill, Brexit became law, and worst of all, the Pandemic hit the World. We probably could have fought harder, but it wasn't a battle either of us were prepared to undertake. After a little over two years, we left — Darrell to Australia and me back to The UK.
My time back in Portsmouth with family was special. I made so many good friends in the four years I lived there, and that's all that mattered. It didn't end well family wise, but the lifelong relationships with people I worked with, has become a great source of comfort living in Australia. We really did make some fabulous memories to take with us, and I will always look back at my time working at Tesco, with immense fondness. Of all the companies I have worked for, over the years in the UK, Tesco has been the best, without exception. At my time of life, it is important to have memories and a sense of satisfaction. Money is no longer critical and my time living back home in Pompey, showed me how valuable friends are!
When Darrell returned from Australia, after his Mother's condition became manageable, we both planned to settle down in The UK once again. We both had jobs we loved, working with people we adored, and at the time, were extremely content with the family bonds we had. I say had, because that changed in the blink of an eye, our fate literally changed overnight; a row between us and my Cousins got out of control and Darrell and I made the decision, to leave the UK for good.
My family, no matter how much I love them, have always been rather fractured; that is true on my paternal and maternal side. It was no surprise when boiling tensions came to a head one evening at my Aunts house. I felt rejected and cast aside, but that is the nature of my family. One minute your face fits, the next it doesn't. I was never truly allowed to have an opinion living at my Aunts, and Darrell and I never really had the privacy we needed. So in many respects what transpired was good and forced us to finally make the decision to move to Australia, no matter how reluctant I had been, to move here over the years.
Mine and Darrell's life has always been a rollercoaster ride. We have had great productive periods, like when we lived and ran a business and Salisbury, but in the main it has never been stable. When you marry someone from a different continent, life will never be the easy ride your peers enjoy, although they may of course disagree.
Having lived in Australia for three years now, we are finally doing the best we ever have and achieving everything we have ever wanted. We bought a new house and car, we both have fantastic jobs we love, and we can afford to travel whenever we want. In Western Australia, we don't want for anything. If we had moved here years ago, I think both our lives would be very different today, but we didn't, and we struggled as a result.
Despite the success we now enjoy, neither of us are fully content with our life down under. People here are not as welcoming as those in Spain or The UK, and although we have a very close network of friends, who we value immensely, we don't have the integrated structure we had living in Europe. That does make for a very lonely existence if I am perfectly honest, and both of us really do look back at our previous life with envy.
We are well aware of where we are better off, however. For the next ten years at least, we will be living here, working hard to pay the bills, accumulating enough money for the next stage of our adventures. In retirement, we will probably not be living in Australia. It seems likely we will rent out our house here in WA and live a more frugal existence in Asia. Initially Spain would have been top of our list once again, but with uncertainty on the continent and geopolitics playing its part, I think we would prefer a more balanced, anchored life, in Thailand or Vietnam.
We will have many more options available, once the house is paid off, and until then we will just continue to strive for a better retirement. Neither of us knows what will happen down the road, but we can at least plan for every eventuality. We will never be multi-millionaires or indeed well off, but we will always be able to survive in circumstances, where others would simply fail. This journey has taught us much about the meaning of life and at 54 years old, it isn't over yet. Despite everything, despite the way we feel and despite the challenges ahead, both of us are looking forward to a productive future and the beginning of the final chapter in our partnership together!
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This week has been another challenging one, as I discovered yet another friend had passed away back in the UK. Giles, had been a friend for about twenty years and once again, I am totally devastated at losing yet another person in my life. Coming so soon after, I discovered my dear friend Myra had died, a little over a month ago, I am wondering what will happen next!
Despite only finding out Giles passed away just a few days ago, I discovered he actually died last year. I had been so busy and preoccupied with building a new life down under, that I hadn't spoken to Giles, in a year and a half. Awful isn't it; I had literally been too busy to care, and I couldn't feel more guilty. In truth, this was the relationship Giles and I had; we would sometimes not chat for long periods of time, but when we did, we just picked up from where we last left off!
A few nights ago, I had a dream about Giles and immediately woke up in a cold sweat. That doesn't happen too often, so I knew I had to check his social media, to make sure he was OK. As soon as I was fully awake, I started to scroll through his Facebook page. At first, all seemed well; there were the usual Birthday messages from friends, but I soon realised, these were no ordinary messages of congratulations, these were tokens of affection from friends and family, remembering Giles on his Birthday. For a moment, I just laid there in bed, mouth open wide, in shock. It couldn't quite believe Giles had gone. I was immediately overcome with guilt, realising I had missed his passing. Aghast, I was literally overcome with emotion, as happens all too frequently these days.
Since moving to Australia, I have become so wrapped up in my own life, that my dearest, closest friends, have taken a back seat. It was a horrible feeling, thinking, maybe, I could have been there or done something to help. Sadly, I have no idea how or why Giles died, and I really don't think it is appropriate to delve further into the whys and wherefores of it. It won't do me any good to know what happened, and it certainly won't bring Giles back. I just need to remember him as he was and concentrate my efforts on reconnecting with others, who I haven't seen or heard from in a while.
Giles was always there, especially at the most difficult times in my life. Giles, or 'Barge Queen' as I knew him, was a wealth of knowledge and experience and always gave me advice when I needed it. Without him, my life would have been so much poorer.
A former drag artist and costume designer and creator, Giles worked with many celebrities over the years. He often wrote for my blog, especially at Christmas, detailing his designs for the latest pantomime he was a part of. His social media was always a positive happy place — full of happy, wonderful, smiling photos of him and the people he worked with. He would frequently tell me stories that would make your hair stand on end, but was a huge part of our friendship together and always made me laugh. His routine was so far removed from my own, that his pantomime tales were always a welcome break from my own trivialities of life and of course, a big part of who Giles was!
Giles was proud of whom he had become, and I admired him greatly, for his amazing sense of humour and ability to make you feel good about yourself, even during the darkest of days. Not only did he write for my blog at Christmas, but he also took part in 'Photographs of Hope', during the pandemic, when readers of Roaming Brit, send in photos of 'things' that gave them hope for the future,
It was always a joy being around Giles. I last saw him in 2022, when he visited me at the pub where I was working in Portsmouth. He was down working at The King's Theatre in Portsmouth, a place he loved with all his heart. Despite living in St Helen's, he, like me, was a Portsmouth boy, born and bred and never forgot his roots, always relishing a return to The Kings at Christmas.
This is of course another sad farewell to a beautiful soul, who is no longer here. It is difficult believing he has actually gone. Seeing him in my dream a few nights ago, was a sign from him to me, that I truly believe, no matter what others may say. This is also a time for me to reflect on the unique character, who was a part of my life for so long and remember the amazing friendship we had, even if it was mostly from a distance. Giles will always remain in my heart as a friend like no other and, like all those I have lost over the years, I will make sure he lives on in the memories of all of those who knew him. Goodnight my lovely, you will always be in my thoughts!
Click above to take you to Giles' Photographs of Hope entry, from April 2020!
Giles and actress Sue Pollard
