"yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift...that's why it's called the present".
I hope you all enjoyed a lovely and peaceful Christmas...roll on the New Year!
All of my previous blogs have related to my past and my journey to find a 'home'.
My travels have taken me all over the south of the UK, whilst flirting with the West Midlands and north of the border, and I even ventured over to the other side of the world.
Yet here I am, currently back in Chichester, West Sussex and my future is still uncertain.
For the first time since I started writing this blog, I am in the present and in the 'Now'.
My quest continues and is ongoing, and all I do know for sure at the moment is that I will shortly be travelling to Ireland to catch up with my 'family' for the first time since Easter 2009, and that I shall be visiting New Zealand for a third time in August/September 2011 for my friend Ange's wedding.
I remain a hopeless romantic, with an optimistic disposition, although I'm also aware that maybe this is just wishful thinking, but my spiritual journey to find a home has taught me one thing over all of these years, and that is...
Home is where the heart is ~ so if my heart can find a home, then I don't care where I'm living.
It could be New Zealand, Ireland, Sussex, Berkshire, London or Timbuktu for all I care.
If my heart is truely happy, then I shall no longer feel lost and in search of that missing ingredient in my life.
I feel a little like the main character in the movie 'The Last Samaurai' - a completely lost soul searching for some inner peace. Keeping with the film analogies, I can also relate to Denzel Washington in 'Man On Fire' - a lost cause in need of St.Jude.
Amazingly, there are quite a few fictional characters who actually offer me hope and inspiration.
Going right back to my original blog, I've already mentioned 'The Shawshank Redemption'.
Then there's Alexandre Dumas's masterpiece 'The Count of Monte Cristo' - another tale of wrongful imprisonment and revenge.
Seeing as my favourite TV programme of all time is 'Porridge' I guess there's a prison theme developing here. But I think that prison is a metaphor for life in general, where you can feel imprisoned through all of your problems and troubles, so you mustn't ever lose hope or spirit. You must try to remain strong and all of this simply comes down to a basic combination of faith and hope.
Incidently, the prison metaphors are simply that I assure you...my only personal experience of life 'inside' was playing a football match at Ford Open Prison!
Then there are other influences in my life.
Generally, there is a similar theme of people who have triumphed over adversity, such as:
Lance Armstrong (7-time Tour De France winning cyclist) who overcame his battle with cancer;
Billy Connolly (comic/TV & Film star) who experienced a traumatic and abusive childhood;
Paulo Coelho (Brazilian Author) who never gave up hope of being a world-famous writer, despite being declared insane at one point, and suffering numerous setbacks and even imprisonment.
Then of course there are the real people in my life who have never wavered, and have always offered their continual help and support:
Jimi & Denn for literally saving my life;
Elona for encouraging me to write again and for her amazing friendship;
Jo Rolfe for always keeping in touch wherever she is;
Curph & Leah for getting me back out in social circles;
The Kirk & The Shaws for sticking with me through thick and thin;
Julie Clark for her inspirational faith and words of comfort when I really needed them;
Glenn, Ruth, and Maryrose in Ireland for always offering me a home across the water;
Ange in New Zealand for continually enticing me to stretch myself by travelling to the other side of the world;
Lucy for giving me the hours to help me realise my dream;
Giverny for being a good friend and the subject of my 'goodness guruness';
Josie for currently putting a roof over my head;
Nicky, my supervisor at work, for making me laugh when I least expect it;
All my other work colleagues: Sarah, Beth, Nick, Sammy, Paul & Tom for their light-hearted banter;
My family for all of their unconditional love and support;
and finally to Lou, for keeping in touch despite all of our mutual trials and tribulations.
To all of these people I send you my love and my thanks. You are all very special to me.
Sometimes it seems like I can't do right for doing wrong, and I know that maybe I care too much.
But I guess I'm too old to change my ways now, so what you see is what you get.
My immediate future is to restore my health after the recent chest condition/mystery illness that I've contracted, and to try to rebuild any relationships with the people who matter most in my life which have recently broken down or fallen apart.
I hope to pick-up my blog at some stage in the New Year, but until that time I'm going to sign off in my usual manner but hope that maybe next time my title may have changed, and I'll no longer be a nomad?!
Wishing everybody a great New Year to come.
May the best of your 2010 be the worst of your 2011.
Nomadic Steve
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Back To Where It All Started
"it's better to regret something you've done, rather than something you haven't..."
So my spiritual journey had now come full circle and I was back 'home' in sunny Bognor Regis.
I had left here in the summer of 1997 and yet here I was again in August 2009, some 12 years later with a sense of failure, as if I had returned with my head bowed and my tail between my legs.
But when I thought about it deeply, I had actually experienced so much in those dozen years, and in New Zealand I had even lived my dream. I had lived in loads of different towns, villages and cities, and in reality I had nothing to feel ashamed about. Besides, I felt that this was only going to be a temporary home, and once I had put myself back on an even keel, I would be ready to continue my journey elsewhere in my persuit to find a place that I could really call 'home'. And even if I'd fallen flat on my face, or arse, depending on your viewpoint, at least I had tried which is where the opening phrase above proves somewhat prophetic.
Initially it was hard being back in Bognor Regis, but I must admit that the uneasy feeling didn't last long.
For the first time in my life I was officially unemployed, and had to suffer the indignity of 'signing-on' every fortnight and picking up my jobseekers allowance. I gave the majority of this to my parents and sister, as until I found work I was living with them, and most of my mornings were spent either on the internet surfing for available jobs, or writing letters concerning possible vacancies, and then during the afternoons I went for long walks along the beach or seafront, and breathed in the fresh sea air which I had missed so much.
Occassionally I bumped into some old friends from school, or some ex-work colleagues, or some old football team-mates, and I also made the effort to finally catch up with my great friends Gary & Lyn Shaw and their wonderful, now grown-up kids.
I was genuinely suprised that I was beginning to feel quite comfortable in these surroundings, but then again why shouldn't I as I'd spent the first 29 years of my life here after all.
After a couple of months being unemployed, I finally got lucky with a temporary job offer.
It was my birthday, I had just treated myself to a day out in Brighton, and whilst travelling back I received a phone call from a recruitment agency confirming that I had been successful in obtaining a position at Mercers in Chichester, as a pensions administrator - a position I still hold over a year later, but now in a permanent capacity. Happy Birthday Steve!
The fact that this job was in Chichester was a bonus as it was only twenty minutes away by bus or by train, and I even walked it on a few occassions during the better weather, but most of all I felt that finally things were taking a positive turn in my life once again.
Being back in work helped boost my self esteem, and I started enjoying a bit of a social life again mainly thanks to a new workmate called Curph.
The team I worked with were all great and very friendly, and Curph, Tom, Rich and I made an unofficial Friday drinking club! My bosses and supervisors were all very supportive, especially Nicky who like me had known and experienced the delights of Slough in her past.
Once my job had been made permanent I started making plans to move out of the home of my family, and find a place of my own once again. Unfortunately, this proved difficult due to the ongoing issue with the bank.
But I found a private landlord who specialised in house shares, and I soon aquired a new place in Annandale Avenue - how ironic was that - my old flat in Bognor all those years ago with Psycho was in the same street!
It wasn't a typical house share, as everyone was living in self contained bedsits within a large building. The only really communal room was the kitchen, but this place served its' purpose for seven months before an opportunity came my way to move to Chichester...but more of that a little bit later.
Living back in the heart of the town of Bognor after all of these years was quite interesting, and I definitely saw some changes since 12 years ago.
The ever increasing Polish and Eastern European population was probably the biggest difference that I encountered. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against any of them and generally they are very honest, hard working people, and I later shared a house with some Poles who were always very pleasant and friendly. The only issue I really have with the Poles and the Eastern europeans is that once again they seem to be colonised by the local council or housing associations, a bit like the Asians in Slough. Sometimes this could be a bit intimidating if you ventured into the wrong place at the wrong time.
A funny incident happened one day as I was entering the building of my workplace in Chichester.
Rich reminded me that we had scaffolders in and referring to their equipment, told me to mind out for the poles. I quickly responded,
" Don't worry about me fella - I'm from Bognor - I'm used to Poles!".
The scaffolders must have been local lads, as I heard a few of them chuckle at my comment.
When I think of my great friend Elona, an Albanian by birth, I just wish everyone could be like her.
I've known Elona for over ten years now and I love her to pieces. I first met her when we worked together in Reading, and despite my moving around she has always kept in touch with me wherever I am. We still meet up for lunch sometimes, and I owe her a great gratitude as it was she who encouraged me to start writing this blog, and it was she who enabled me to obtain a new passport due to her professional capacity, meaning that I can revisit my friends in Ireland and New Zealand next year. Incidentedly, by way of an explaination my ex-friend had destroyed all my old possessions including all my identification papers, and it took me forever to sort replacements out.
What I especially love about Elona is that she has embraced this country, she has studied and worked over here, even married an Englishman, and now she's a globetrotter with a high powered job who has recently visited Dubai, USA and Brazil with work, and still found time to visit family in Albania and Sweden, and holiday in Goa. I know that she can grace any country or continent with her sweet charm and gorgeous smile, and she is a great example of a person who deserves everything she gets out of life, because she's worked hard and she's earnt it, whilst never forgetting where she came from.
I feel so proud of all of her achievements and I'm proud that I can call her my good friend.
As I stated earlier, after seven months an opportunity arose for me to move to a flat share in Chichester, which made great economical sense if nothing else, as there would be no more travel expenditure and the rent was cheaper too! A friend from work, Josie had just left the company, and was looking for a new flat mate to share her home with her and her boyfriend. Once I found out she was looking I jumped at the chance and on 31st October 2010 I moved home yet again.
My good friend Giverny helped me move my stuff, and as she can no doubt testify I remain Mr.Minimalistic, as my entire worldly possessions fitted into the back of her car in one visit!
I recently read an article about one of my favourite actors, Denzel Washington, and in it he said that as you get older and wiser, you simplify. Well, I'm not sure about the wiser bit, but I definitely concur with the simplification part.
And what a small world it is - Josie's surname is O'Brennan which is Irish as sure as night follows day, but the strangest connection comes with her boyfriend Glen Staunton, who has family in Limerick - the same city as my other great Irish mate Glenn Courtney's family come from. I'm due to visit Ireland very soon, and hope to chat to Glenn's mother to see if she knows the Stauntons - like I said, it's a small world!
So this more-or-less brings me up to the present, with one final blog for 2010 to come next week
I'm happy to be living and working in Chichester, but no doubt I'll be getting itchy feet again soon.
I still feel that I'm on a spiritual journey to find my true 'home', and I remain optimistic with genuine hope that 2011 may provide me with the inspiration required to find this much treasured destination.
Until then, may I wish you all a very Merry Christmas...and as the genial comic Dave Allen always used to say, "May your God go with you!".
PS - Get well soon, Nicky!
Take care.
Nomadic Steve
So my spiritual journey had now come full circle and I was back 'home' in sunny Bognor Regis.
I had left here in the summer of 1997 and yet here I was again in August 2009, some 12 years later with a sense of failure, as if I had returned with my head bowed and my tail between my legs.
But when I thought about it deeply, I had actually experienced so much in those dozen years, and in New Zealand I had even lived my dream. I had lived in loads of different towns, villages and cities, and in reality I had nothing to feel ashamed about. Besides, I felt that this was only going to be a temporary home, and once I had put myself back on an even keel, I would be ready to continue my journey elsewhere in my persuit to find a place that I could really call 'home'. And even if I'd fallen flat on my face, or arse, depending on your viewpoint, at least I had tried which is where the opening phrase above proves somewhat prophetic.
Initially it was hard being back in Bognor Regis, but I must admit that the uneasy feeling didn't last long.
For the first time in my life I was officially unemployed, and had to suffer the indignity of 'signing-on' every fortnight and picking up my jobseekers allowance. I gave the majority of this to my parents and sister, as until I found work I was living with them, and most of my mornings were spent either on the internet surfing for available jobs, or writing letters concerning possible vacancies, and then during the afternoons I went for long walks along the beach or seafront, and breathed in the fresh sea air which I had missed so much.
Occassionally I bumped into some old friends from school, or some ex-work colleagues, or some old football team-mates, and I also made the effort to finally catch up with my great friends Gary & Lyn Shaw and their wonderful, now grown-up kids.
I was genuinely suprised that I was beginning to feel quite comfortable in these surroundings, but then again why shouldn't I as I'd spent the first 29 years of my life here after all.
After a couple of months being unemployed, I finally got lucky with a temporary job offer.
It was my birthday, I had just treated myself to a day out in Brighton, and whilst travelling back I received a phone call from a recruitment agency confirming that I had been successful in obtaining a position at Mercers in Chichester, as a pensions administrator - a position I still hold over a year later, but now in a permanent capacity. Happy Birthday Steve!
The fact that this job was in Chichester was a bonus as it was only twenty minutes away by bus or by train, and I even walked it on a few occassions during the better weather, but most of all I felt that finally things were taking a positive turn in my life once again.
Being back in work helped boost my self esteem, and I started enjoying a bit of a social life again mainly thanks to a new workmate called Curph.
The team I worked with were all great and very friendly, and Curph, Tom, Rich and I made an unofficial Friday drinking club! My bosses and supervisors were all very supportive, especially Nicky who like me had known and experienced the delights of Slough in her past.
Once my job had been made permanent I started making plans to move out of the home of my family, and find a place of my own once again. Unfortunately, this proved difficult due to the ongoing issue with the bank.
But I found a private landlord who specialised in house shares, and I soon aquired a new place in Annandale Avenue - how ironic was that - my old flat in Bognor all those years ago with Psycho was in the same street!
It wasn't a typical house share, as everyone was living in self contained bedsits within a large building. The only really communal room was the kitchen, but this place served its' purpose for seven months before an opportunity came my way to move to Chichester...but more of that a little bit later.
Living back in the heart of the town of Bognor after all of these years was quite interesting, and I definitely saw some changes since 12 years ago.
The ever increasing Polish and Eastern European population was probably the biggest difference that I encountered. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against any of them and generally they are very honest, hard working people, and I later shared a house with some Poles who were always very pleasant and friendly. The only issue I really have with the Poles and the Eastern europeans is that once again they seem to be colonised by the local council or housing associations, a bit like the Asians in Slough. Sometimes this could be a bit intimidating if you ventured into the wrong place at the wrong time.
A funny incident happened one day as I was entering the building of my workplace in Chichester.
Rich reminded me that we had scaffolders in and referring to their equipment, told me to mind out for the poles. I quickly responded,
" Don't worry about me fella - I'm from Bognor - I'm used to Poles!".
The scaffolders must have been local lads, as I heard a few of them chuckle at my comment.
When I think of my great friend Elona, an Albanian by birth, I just wish everyone could be like her.
I've known Elona for over ten years now and I love her to pieces. I first met her when we worked together in Reading, and despite my moving around she has always kept in touch with me wherever I am. We still meet up for lunch sometimes, and I owe her a great gratitude as it was she who encouraged me to start writing this blog, and it was she who enabled me to obtain a new passport due to her professional capacity, meaning that I can revisit my friends in Ireland and New Zealand next year. Incidentedly, by way of an explaination my ex-friend had destroyed all my old possessions including all my identification papers, and it took me forever to sort replacements out.
What I especially love about Elona is that she has embraced this country, she has studied and worked over here, even married an Englishman, and now she's a globetrotter with a high powered job who has recently visited Dubai, USA and Brazil with work, and still found time to visit family in Albania and Sweden, and holiday in Goa. I know that she can grace any country or continent with her sweet charm and gorgeous smile, and she is a great example of a person who deserves everything she gets out of life, because she's worked hard and she's earnt it, whilst never forgetting where she came from.
I feel so proud of all of her achievements and I'm proud that I can call her my good friend.
As I stated earlier, after seven months an opportunity arose for me to move to a flat share in Chichester, which made great economical sense if nothing else, as there would be no more travel expenditure and the rent was cheaper too! A friend from work, Josie had just left the company, and was looking for a new flat mate to share her home with her and her boyfriend. Once I found out she was looking I jumped at the chance and on 31st October 2010 I moved home yet again.
My good friend Giverny helped me move my stuff, and as she can no doubt testify I remain Mr.Minimalistic, as my entire worldly possessions fitted into the back of her car in one visit!
I recently read an article about one of my favourite actors, Denzel Washington, and in it he said that as you get older and wiser, you simplify. Well, I'm not sure about the wiser bit, but I definitely concur with the simplification part.
And what a small world it is - Josie's surname is O'Brennan which is Irish as sure as night follows day, but the strangest connection comes with her boyfriend Glen Staunton, who has family in Limerick - the same city as my other great Irish mate Glenn Courtney's family come from. I'm due to visit Ireland very soon, and hope to chat to Glenn's mother to see if she knows the Stauntons - like I said, it's a small world!
So this more-or-less brings me up to the present, with one final blog for 2010 to come next week
I'm happy to be living and working in Chichester, but no doubt I'll be getting itchy feet again soon.
I still feel that I'm on a spiritual journey to find my true 'home', and I remain optimistic with genuine hope that 2011 may provide me with the inspiration required to find this much treasured destination.
Until then, may I wish you all a very Merry Christmas...and as the genial comic Dave Allen always used to say, "May your God go with you!".
PS - Get well soon, Nicky!
Take care.
Nomadic Steve
Monday, December 20, 2010
Time To Bite The Bullet!
"the wrong side of a lifetime's wishful thinking,
drove me here to pills and ale,
come and listen, come and listen
to my tale..."
Within a few months of my return to the UK, a feeling of 'homelessness' developed as I entered a very dark phase of my life, exposing my inner demons, shame and weaknessess, causing me to lose the plot for a while and go totally AWOL!
As already mentioned, the problem with the bank was ongoing and remains so to this day, but that was the least of my worries...
As you may remember from my last blog, I had just found out that my friend had been involved in an accident. What I wasn't aware of at the time, was that this incident occurred whilst at home with her young daughter, and could have easily been avoided. Without going into too much detail, her state was so bad that the attending paramedics reported her for her abusive nature and sited a case to social services, stating that she was an unfit mother.
As soon as I returned I attempted to smooth the waters.
Firstly, I assured all parties that I was living with her and her little girl, that I was a steadying influence on them both, and that I would be permanently around from now on.
I sat down with social services, followed by a meeting with the head teacher of the lttle girls' nursery school, and even spoke to the local community police officer, to resolve everything and make sure that her little girl wouldn't be taken away.
I even offered to adopt the little girl, or at least become her legal guardian to give my friend the comfort that her daughter would be safe in my care no matter what ever happened.
Unfortunately, all this was to be forgotten in time which breaks my heart.
I know that I was as good as a dad to my friends little girl, looking after her every day, helping her with her school work, getting her into reading and books via the local library - we both loved reading 'The Gruffalo' - and generally just being around all of the time.
I took up a temporary job working a nightshift, so that I could contribute to the household income whilst still being able to look after her during the day as her mum persued a career, but again all of this is conveniently forgotten.
When my friend took up with her same ex-boyfriend yet again - that was the straw that broke the camels back for me. This guy had no time for the little girl - he had already given up on two of his own kids from a failed marriage - and all he was interested in was enjoying a social life with my friend, meaning he was neglecting all other 'family' orientated responsibilities. Despite all my previous help and support, I was effectively removed from the family environment that I had helped to create, but was still expected to take care of the little girl during the day. I was being abused and taken for granted, so when a few days off became available I took off to visit Jimi & Denn in Cheltenham.
On the eve of my scheduled return I received a rather unpleasant voice mail message from my so-called friend, which made me realise that I was wasting my time and effort on our previously agreed 'arrangement'. So rather than return to Berkshire, I completely lost the plot, jacked in my temporary night job, and set out to find a new spiritual home...and ended up in Edinburgh, Scotland!
I had always wanted to travel north of the border, and Edinburgh was the only capital city in the British Isles which I hadn't yet visited, and as the famous Edinburgh Festival was in full swing I thought why the hell not!
I arrived on a sunny Thursday afternoon after booking myself into a suprisingly available hotel, I went out to explore Edinburgh and witness all that the Festival had to offer.
I awoke on the Friday to be greeted by a downpour of rain which continued throughout the day. With nothing planned and a deep depression setting in, I found the first of many pubs and went on a bit of a binge.
Feeling very sad, lonely and isolated, I probably cut a sorry figure but by the time I made it back to my hotel in the evening via an off licence, I really didn't care what anybody thought and I didn't think anybody cared anyway. I do remember that somewhen during the afternoon I did pop into an internet cafe and left some facebook messages to my good friends Glenn & Ruth, Jimi & Denn, Elona Mortimer-Zhika, and Jo Rolfe, as if I was anticipating that the end was nigh and knowing what was going to happen next...although what actually did happen next remains a bit of a blur in places.
What I do remember is that I was awoken on the Saturday morning at 11am by the ringing of my hotel room phone. It was reception informing me that I should have checked out an hour ago. I hastily gathered up my things, noticing a half empty bottle of red wine next to a half empty bottle of sleeping pills, settled my bill and left.
Within minutes of leaving the hotel, as I was crossing the road I was violently sick. This wasn't the usual hangover sick, but something much worse. I collapsed onto the side of the kerb and dialled for an ambulence. Almost immediately the paramedics were with me and I was rushed into Edinburgh Infirmary.
The next few hours were a bit hazy, but I do remember having various tests done, and a meeting with a counsellor to determine whether I was suicidal or not.
It was at this point that the severity of my actions kicked in, and the reality that I was hundreds of miles away from anyone that I knew, and I had absolutely no money other than the fiver that remained in my wallet.
God, what had I done?
During the afternoon I was discharged, and as I stumbled out of the hospital I felt faint and collapsed again.
I returned back inside to be checked over once again, had further tests and examinations done, before being instructed that I should be well enough to leave.
By this time it was early evening and somehow I had contacted my parents and Jimi & Denn in Cheltenham, and between them they had arranged the purchase of a coach ticket from Edinburgh to Cheltenham on the Sunday, which was sent via a text message to my phone which would be accepted by the coach company.
I hung around the A&E all Saturday night, which was an experience in itself, and left around 5am on the Sunday morning to walk back into Edinburgh city centre, and locate the bus station as my coach was due to depart at 7am.
I boarded the coach and then travelled to Cheltenham via Glasgow, Carlisle, and Birmingham, and made it safely back to where I was picked up by Jimi. I then spent the next week at their house, recovering and get myself back together. I felt totally ashamed by my actions, especially feeling like I had walked out on the little girl, but at the end of the day as my now ex-friend bluntly told me, I wasn't her father so f**k off!
Fortunately, the love of my true friends and family got me through this awful dark depression.
I had lost loads of weight, but a combination of some great home cooking from my friends and later from my family, plus some light exercise soon got me back to good health.
A week later I left Cheltenham and I made the journey by train back 'home' to Bognor Regis in a bid to start again and pick up the pieces of my life which was in total disarray to say the least.
For the first time in my life I had no home of my own, no job, and no money - I was totally lost and no clue what the future would bring.
This was August 2009.
My next blog in a few days time takes me right up to the present day (you'll be pleased to know, Nicky!), and tells all about my adjustments to living back 'home' in Bognor Regis.
But with Christmas 2010 now upon us, it would be wrong for me to leave on a sour note and be all doom and gloom. So as with everything that I've experienced in life, I try to take the positives out of every situation. After all, if I'd hit rock bottom then surely now the only way was onwards and upwards.
In this case that meant that events in Scotland brought me closer to my family, and it had also brought me back 'home'.
I also learned who my real friends were, as they were there when I really needed them...especially Jimi & Denn, my Irish 'family', and my good mates Elona, Jo, and Martin.
And finally, a hint of a romance from my darkness days in Berkshire resurfaced around this time, and still lingers to this day...maybe next year events will conspire to bring us together?
Keeping the faith & hope alive.
Nomadic Steve
drove me here to pills and ale,
come and listen, come and listen
to my tale..."
Within a few months of my return to the UK, a feeling of 'homelessness' developed as I entered a very dark phase of my life, exposing my inner demons, shame and weaknessess, causing me to lose the plot for a while and go totally AWOL!
As already mentioned, the problem with the bank was ongoing and remains so to this day, but that was the least of my worries...
As you may remember from my last blog, I had just found out that my friend had been involved in an accident. What I wasn't aware of at the time, was that this incident occurred whilst at home with her young daughter, and could have easily been avoided. Without going into too much detail, her state was so bad that the attending paramedics reported her for her abusive nature and sited a case to social services, stating that she was an unfit mother.
As soon as I returned I attempted to smooth the waters.
Firstly, I assured all parties that I was living with her and her little girl, that I was a steadying influence on them both, and that I would be permanently around from now on.
I sat down with social services, followed by a meeting with the head teacher of the lttle girls' nursery school, and even spoke to the local community police officer, to resolve everything and make sure that her little girl wouldn't be taken away.
I even offered to adopt the little girl, or at least become her legal guardian to give my friend the comfort that her daughter would be safe in my care no matter what ever happened.
Unfortunately, all this was to be forgotten in time which breaks my heart.
I know that I was as good as a dad to my friends little girl, looking after her every day, helping her with her school work, getting her into reading and books via the local library - we both loved reading 'The Gruffalo' - and generally just being around all of the time.
I took up a temporary job working a nightshift, so that I could contribute to the household income whilst still being able to look after her during the day as her mum persued a career, but again all of this is conveniently forgotten.
When my friend took up with her same ex-boyfriend yet again - that was the straw that broke the camels back for me. This guy had no time for the little girl - he had already given up on two of his own kids from a failed marriage - and all he was interested in was enjoying a social life with my friend, meaning he was neglecting all other 'family' orientated responsibilities. Despite all my previous help and support, I was effectively removed from the family environment that I had helped to create, but was still expected to take care of the little girl during the day. I was being abused and taken for granted, so when a few days off became available I took off to visit Jimi & Denn in Cheltenham.
On the eve of my scheduled return I received a rather unpleasant voice mail message from my so-called friend, which made me realise that I was wasting my time and effort on our previously agreed 'arrangement'. So rather than return to Berkshire, I completely lost the plot, jacked in my temporary night job, and set out to find a new spiritual home...and ended up in Edinburgh, Scotland!
I had always wanted to travel north of the border, and Edinburgh was the only capital city in the British Isles which I hadn't yet visited, and as the famous Edinburgh Festival was in full swing I thought why the hell not!
I arrived on a sunny Thursday afternoon after booking myself into a suprisingly available hotel, I went out to explore Edinburgh and witness all that the Festival had to offer.
I awoke on the Friday to be greeted by a downpour of rain which continued throughout the day. With nothing planned and a deep depression setting in, I found the first of many pubs and went on a bit of a binge.
Feeling very sad, lonely and isolated, I probably cut a sorry figure but by the time I made it back to my hotel in the evening via an off licence, I really didn't care what anybody thought and I didn't think anybody cared anyway. I do remember that somewhen during the afternoon I did pop into an internet cafe and left some facebook messages to my good friends Glenn & Ruth, Jimi & Denn, Elona Mortimer-Zhika, and Jo Rolfe, as if I was anticipating that the end was nigh and knowing what was going to happen next...although what actually did happen next remains a bit of a blur in places.
What I do remember is that I was awoken on the Saturday morning at 11am by the ringing of my hotel room phone. It was reception informing me that I should have checked out an hour ago. I hastily gathered up my things, noticing a half empty bottle of red wine next to a half empty bottle of sleeping pills, settled my bill and left.
Within minutes of leaving the hotel, as I was crossing the road I was violently sick. This wasn't the usual hangover sick, but something much worse. I collapsed onto the side of the kerb and dialled for an ambulence. Almost immediately the paramedics were with me and I was rushed into Edinburgh Infirmary.
The next few hours were a bit hazy, but I do remember having various tests done, and a meeting with a counsellor to determine whether I was suicidal or not.
It was at this point that the severity of my actions kicked in, and the reality that I was hundreds of miles away from anyone that I knew, and I had absolutely no money other than the fiver that remained in my wallet.
God, what had I done?
During the afternoon I was discharged, and as I stumbled out of the hospital I felt faint and collapsed again.
I returned back inside to be checked over once again, had further tests and examinations done, before being instructed that I should be well enough to leave.
By this time it was early evening and somehow I had contacted my parents and Jimi & Denn in Cheltenham, and between them they had arranged the purchase of a coach ticket from Edinburgh to Cheltenham on the Sunday, which was sent via a text message to my phone which would be accepted by the coach company.
I hung around the A&E all Saturday night, which was an experience in itself, and left around 5am on the Sunday morning to walk back into Edinburgh city centre, and locate the bus station as my coach was due to depart at 7am.
I boarded the coach and then travelled to Cheltenham via Glasgow, Carlisle, and Birmingham, and made it safely back to where I was picked up by Jimi. I then spent the next week at their house, recovering and get myself back together. I felt totally ashamed by my actions, especially feeling like I had walked out on the little girl, but at the end of the day as my now ex-friend bluntly told me, I wasn't her father so f**k off!
Fortunately, the love of my true friends and family got me through this awful dark depression.
I had lost loads of weight, but a combination of some great home cooking from my friends and later from my family, plus some light exercise soon got me back to good health.
A week later I left Cheltenham and I made the journey by train back 'home' to Bognor Regis in a bid to start again and pick up the pieces of my life which was in total disarray to say the least.
For the first time in my life I had no home of my own, no job, and no money - I was totally lost and no clue what the future would bring.
This was August 2009.
My next blog in a few days time takes me right up to the present day (you'll be pleased to know, Nicky!), and tells all about my adjustments to living back 'home' in Bognor Regis.
But with Christmas 2010 now upon us, it would be wrong for me to leave on a sour note and be all doom and gloom. So as with everything that I've experienced in life, I try to take the positives out of every situation. After all, if I'd hit rock bottom then surely now the only way was onwards and upwards.
In this case that meant that events in Scotland brought me closer to my family, and it had also brought me back 'home'.
I also learned who my real friends were, as they were there when I really needed them...especially Jimi & Denn, my Irish 'family', and my good mates Elona, Jo, and Martin.
And finally, a hint of a romance from my darkness days in Berkshire resurfaced around this time, and still lingers to this day...maybe next year events will conspire to bring us together?
Keeping the faith & hope alive.
Nomadic Steve
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
A Kiwi At Heart
"drive the road to your surrender..."
Returning to the UK hit me hard. I gave up the lease on my flat in Cheltenham, and moved to my friends place in Crowthorne (Berkshire) to live with her and her daughter.
For a while everything was fine. They both needed some stability in their lives, and I think it's fair to say that I gave them this. I got very attached to the little girl, as she did to me, and never having being a father myself I guess this was as close as I was ever going to get.
Unfortunately, my friend took up with her ex-boyfriend and things soon changed. I was only now required as a glorified babysitter and I began to get itchy feet and crave a return to New Zealand.
With no work on the horizon which brought about the possibility of a hefty tax rebate, I decided to use these impending funds and return to New Zealand, initially for the whole month of March 2009.
I booked my flight and hired a campervan, as I intended to tour only the South Island this time, staying on the coast as much as possible, and driving around the whole island starting and ending in Christchurch, travelling in a clockwise direction. I had a rough agenda, but I was totally flexible to vary this as it suited me, as I had no fixed timetable.
I honestly didn't know if I would come back this time, as I didn't feel that I had anything to come back to, and I had a romantic notion that maybe whilst travelling out there something would turn up to enable me to remain there longer than originally planned.
Once I arrived in Christchurch I met up with my good friend Ange, who I had been communicating with via e-mail whilst in the UK, and we shared a bite to eat and a drink or two. Although I agreed to meet up with her again just before I was due to travel back, I was otherwise completely on my own for the whole trip, free to drive wherever the mood took me, and enjoy everything that was New Zealand.
I planned to do some trekking, and spend more time taking in the beautiful surroundings of the lakes and mountains. The climate in NZ in March was perfect for travelling, as it was late summer/early autumn.
A typical day involved rising at about 7am, getting on the road for around 8am, and then driving until early afternoon, stopping off for breakfast and a coffee on the way. I would then park up and look to explore my current location before settling down for a relaxing evening with a few ice cold Mac Gold beers, and starting the same routine again the following day. I had decided to mainly use holiday parks/camping sites to stay in and use their facilities rather than those onboard my campervan, but every four or five days I'd treat myself to a hotel and a proper bed for the night.
My journey started travelling south along the main highway from Christchurch on the east coast, and stopping at places such as Timaru, Oamaru, and Dunedin. Once I hit Invercargill I then started travelling northwards and found an idealic spot in the beautiful, peaceful, lakeside township of Te Anau.
I spent an extra day here as the place felt so comfortable and homely, and I experienced wonderful hospitality as well as good food, drink and company.
Te Anau forms part of the region known as Fiordland & Southland, and is a main stopping point for travellers on their way to the previously mentioned Milford Sound.
I was surrounded by various mountain ranges and Lake Te Anau was right alongside my camp site.
The scenery only got better over the coming days as I moved on my favourite place, Queenstown, before continuing to another stunning location, Wanaka.
The approach into Queenstown along highway number 6 was unbelievable.
As you cling to the side of Lake Wakatipu, whilst taking in the scenery on the winding road, Queenstown suddenly comes into view and it quite literally takes your breathe away. I remember quite vividly listening to Marvin Gaye's 'What's Going On' album on the van stereo as I approached Queenstown, and the whole spiritual experience was almost overwhelming as I really felt like I was returning 'home'.. Lake Wakatipu is quite unique in that it actually appears to have a tide, and maori myth/legend explains this as a buried god with a beating heart...spiritual stuff or what!
I was familar with Queenstown from my previous visit, so I spent most of my time here relaxing and catching up with my e-mails as I was having trouble with my bank. Despite prior notification, they had temporarily frozen access to my accounts, as they thought I was the subject to fraudulent useage from abroad. They also happened to have lost my tax rebate cheque, and these issues were to haunt me for the next two years...and my now officially registered complaint remains ongoing to this day, and is subject to a court case via the Financial Ombudsman Service - nightmare!
Fortunately, I had a temporary reprieve so at least I could enjoy the rest of my stay in New Zealand, but this did require me to return to the UK to try to resolve the issue as soon as possible, which meant that I wouldn't be able to extend my stay beyond the end of March 2009.
After Queenstown I stayed in Wanaka, another stunning township, where I undertook some tremendous scenic walks. I ventured along the lakeshore on the trail known as Waterfall Creek Walk, and I also climbed the nearby Mount Iron. Reaching the summit of this mountain meant witnessing the twin lakes of Wanaka and Hawea from above, which were wedged between awesome mountain ranges, and the panoramic views were amazing. I actually felt really insignificant at this point, as all my trials and tribulations with the bank seemed trivial when put into perspective with what I was experiencing.
I then moved up the west coast, stopping in Glacier Country at Franz Josef, and on to Greymouth and Westport, where I took a dip in the Tasman Sea for the first time. Thereafter, I continued my journey north and based myself in the lovely Nelson. From here I could visit the gorgeous Golden Bay area and spend some time in the Abel Tasman National Park.
A lovely, isolated spot was found in Pohara, and I also enjoyed a great time in Takaka, Kaiteriteri and Motueka.
I ventured along the Abel Tasman Coastal Track for a day, as well as crossing a rope bridge to witness the Wainui Falls whilst I was in Pohara.
The final leg of my epic journey took in Picton, Blenheim and Kaikoura, before returning to Christchurch and meeting up with Ange once again. A particular mention must go to the scenic, wiggly, atmospheric 36km drive along Queen Charlotte Drive between Picton and Havelock, which is a must for anyone in that area with a car or campervan, and also the Kaikaura Peninsula Walk which I trekked one glorious day.
So after a month, my time was up and I was due to return to the UK. News had reached me that my friend back in Crowthorne had been in accident, and I was badly needed back 'home'. Also, the on-off relationship with her boyfriend was currently 'off', and she badly needed my support once again.
As events transpired, this wasn't the whole truth as I was about to find out, and had I known then what I know now I don't think that I would ever have left New Zealand.
I really believe that my spiritual home is in New Zealand, but it's just that I can't find a way to stay there permanently...alhough I will never give up looking at ways to make it happen.
There's an easy way of life over there, and an old fashioned sense of values and respect, with a friendly spirit amongst the people which restores your faith in human kindness.
So when it was time to depart the lovely island, I left with a heavy heart, but also with a vow that I would return someday.
Nomadic Steve
Returning to the UK hit me hard. I gave up the lease on my flat in Cheltenham, and moved to my friends place in Crowthorne (Berkshire) to live with her and her daughter.
For a while everything was fine. They both needed some stability in their lives, and I think it's fair to say that I gave them this. I got very attached to the little girl, as she did to me, and never having being a father myself I guess this was as close as I was ever going to get.
Unfortunately, my friend took up with her ex-boyfriend and things soon changed. I was only now required as a glorified babysitter and I began to get itchy feet and crave a return to New Zealand.
With no work on the horizon which brought about the possibility of a hefty tax rebate, I decided to use these impending funds and return to New Zealand, initially for the whole month of March 2009.
I booked my flight and hired a campervan, as I intended to tour only the South Island this time, staying on the coast as much as possible, and driving around the whole island starting and ending in Christchurch, travelling in a clockwise direction. I had a rough agenda, but I was totally flexible to vary this as it suited me, as I had no fixed timetable.
I honestly didn't know if I would come back this time, as I didn't feel that I had anything to come back to, and I had a romantic notion that maybe whilst travelling out there something would turn up to enable me to remain there longer than originally planned.
Once I arrived in Christchurch I met up with my good friend Ange, who I had been communicating with via e-mail whilst in the UK, and we shared a bite to eat and a drink or two. Although I agreed to meet up with her again just before I was due to travel back, I was otherwise completely on my own for the whole trip, free to drive wherever the mood took me, and enjoy everything that was New Zealand.
I planned to do some trekking, and spend more time taking in the beautiful surroundings of the lakes and mountains. The climate in NZ in March was perfect for travelling, as it was late summer/early autumn.
A typical day involved rising at about 7am, getting on the road for around 8am, and then driving until early afternoon, stopping off for breakfast and a coffee on the way. I would then park up and look to explore my current location before settling down for a relaxing evening with a few ice cold Mac Gold beers, and starting the same routine again the following day. I had decided to mainly use holiday parks/camping sites to stay in and use their facilities rather than those onboard my campervan, but every four or five days I'd treat myself to a hotel and a proper bed for the night.
My journey started travelling south along the main highway from Christchurch on the east coast, and stopping at places such as Timaru, Oamaru, and Dunedin. Once I hit Invercargill I then started travelling northwards and found an idealic spot in the beautiful, peaceful, lakeside township of Te Anau.
I spent an extra day here as the place felt so comfortable and homely, and I experienced wonderful hospitality as well as good food, drink and company.
Te Anau forms part of the region known as Fiordland & Southland, and is a main stopping point for travellers on their way to the previously mentioned Milford Sound.
I was surrounded by various mountain ranges and Lake Te Anau was right alongside my camp site.
The scenery only got better over the coming days as I moved on my favourite place, Queenstown, before continuing to another stunning location, Wanaka.
The approach into Queenstown along highway number 6 was unbelievable.
As you cling to the side of Lake Wakatipu, whilst taking in the scenery on the winding road, Queenstown suddenly comes into view and it quite literally takes your breathe away. I remember quite vividly listening to Marvin Gaye's 'What's Going On' album on the van stereo as I approached Queenstown, and the whole spiritual experience was almost overwhelming as I really felt like I was returning 'home'.. Lake Wakatipu is quite unique in that it actually appears to have a tide, and maori myth/legend explains this as a buried god with a beating heart...spiritual stuff or what!
I was familar with Queenstown from my previous visit, so I spent most of my time here relaxing and catching up with my e-mails as I was having trouble with my bank. Despite prior notification, they had temporarily frozen access to my accounts, as they thought I was the subject to fraudulent useage from abroad. They also happened to have lost my tax rebate cheque, and these issues were to haunt me for the next two years...and my now officially registered complaint remains ongoing to this day, and is subject to a court case via the Financial Ombudsman Service - nightmare!
Fortunately, I had a temporary reprieve so at least I could enjoy the rest of my stay in New Zealand, but this did require me to return to the UK to try to resolve the issue as soon as possible, which meant that I wouldn't be able to extend my stay beyond the end of March 2009.
After Queenstown I stayed in Wanaka, another stunning township, where I undertook some tremendous scenic walks. I ventured along the lakeshore on the trail known as Waterfall Creek Walk, and I also climbed the nearby Mount Iron. Reaching the summit of this mountain meant witnessing the twin lakes of Wanaka and Hawea from above, which were wedged between awesome mountain ranges, and the panoramic views were amazing. I actually felt really insignificant at this point, as all my trials and tribulations with the bank seemed trivial when put into perspective with what I was experiencing.
I then moved up the west coast, stopping in Glacier Country at Franz Josef, and on to Greymouth and Westport, where I took a dip in the Tasman Sea for the first time. Thereafter, I continued my journey north and based myself in the lovely Nelson. From here I could visit the gorgeous Golden Bay area and spend some time in the Abel Tasman National Park.
A lovely, isolated spot was found in Pohara, and I also enjoyed a great time in Takaka, Kaiteriteri and Motueka.
I ventured along the Abel Tasman Coastal Track for a day, as well as crossing a rope bridge to witness the Wainui Falls whilst I was in Pohara.
The final leg of my epic journey took in Picton, Blenheim and Kaikoura, before returning to Christchurch and meeting up with Ange once again. A particular mention must go to the scenic, wiggly, atmospheric 36km drive along Queen Charlotte Drive between Picton and Havelock, which is a must for anyone in that area with a car or campervan, and also the Kaikaura Peninsula Walk which I trekked one glorious day.
So after a month, my time was up and I was due to return to the UK. News had reached me that my friend back in Crowthorne had been in accident, and I was badly needed back 'home'. Also, the on-off relationship with her boyfriend was currently 'off', and she badly needed my support once again.
As events transpired, this wasn't the whole truth as I was about to find out, and had I known then what I know now I don't think that I would ever have left New Zealand.
I really believe that my spiritual home is in New Zealand, but it's just that I can't find a way to stay there permanently...alhough I will never give up looking at ways to make it happen.
There's an easy way of life over there, and an old fashioned sense of values and respect, with a friendly spirit amongst the people which restores your faith in human kindness.
So when it was time to depart the lovely island, I left with a heavy heart, but also with a vow that I would return someday.
Nomadic Steve
Monday, December 13, 2010
A Dream Realised
"take me to the fantastic place, keep the rest of my life away..."
For as long as I can remember I had wanted to travel to New Zealand, and witness all the wonderful scenery for myself. I had budgeted my finances for the past year to cater for this trip, and even without working for quite a while I had sufficient funds in place to enjoy the lifestyle that I was currently living, and still keep on top of all my repayments of my outstanding loans, bills and debts.
My first visit down under was via a structured escorted coach tour, which took in both islands and lasted for just over three weeks, staying in top-notch hotels. I was to fly from Manchester to Christchurch via Singapore, and spend about ten days on the South Island before transferring across to the North Island for the remainder of the stay, and then fly home from Auckland.
Being a holiday through an agent, this meant spending the bulk of the trip in the company of about 50 other people, who were mostly retired folks. Naturally it wasn't easy to keep all of the people happy all of the time, but I was just satisfied to finally realise my dream, and I did meet some great friends in Brian & Christine Mountford who were also on the trip. We would regularly share our evenings at one restaurant or another, and we enjoyed each others company. Having said that, there was plenty of time for me to go off and do my own thing...and I definitely did that as you'll soon discover! Lol.
The intention for me for this holiday was to get a taster for New Zealand, and then hopefully return at a later date to explore at greater length any specific areas which took my fancy. If as expected, I fell in love with the place then maybe I could settle down there one day as a place that I could finally call 'home'.
Little did I know that I would return much sooner than I could ever have anticipated!
I left behind a cold and wet British winter and arrived a few days later (after spending a while in Singapore) on the other side of the world, to be greeted by a scorching Kiwi summer. After two long-haul flights most of my companions on the coach party went straight to sleep at our first hotel, the gorgeous Chateau On The Park in Christchurch, due to jet-lag...but not me!
A quick shower and change into T-shirt and shorts, and then I was out to explore Christchurch in the sun!
And that's pretty much how the rest of the holiday went - the old 'uns did the touristy things whilst I tried to venture deeper into the culture and experience some of the other aspects that New Zealand had to offer.
The highlights of the South Island part of the holiday was witnessing the eighth wonder of the world that is Milford Sound, and also on a purely personal note spending three fantastic days in Queenstown.
The South Island is predominently full of mountain ranges and vast lakes, whereas the North Island is more volcanic and has more emphasis on the maori historical culture and heritage.
After spending a few days in Christchurch, we headed off to Queenstown which is universally known as the extreme sports capital of the island!
We took a day trip from Queenstown bound for the magnificent Milford Sound, which is located in the heart of Fiordland in the south-west of the island.
The first sight of Milford Sound is stunning: still, dark waters out of which rise sheer rocky cliffs, and forests clinging to the slopes sometimes relinquish their hold, causing a 'tree avalanche' into the waters. The spectacular, photogenic 1692m- high Mitre Peak features most prominently. We cruised out onto the waters of Milford Sound to witness cascading waterfalls, dolphins and seals - awesome as they say in NZ.
The following day, now back in Queenstown, I took advantage of a free day and realised another dream... to do a tandem skydive!
I hadn't planned to do it, but a company called NZONE had a sales office in town, so I just popped in and booked a jump from the maximum available height of 15,000 feet.
I can honestly say, and I'm not being brave, that I had no fear whatsoever, which is a bit ironic as the slogan of the company states 'Embrace The Fear'. The whole experience will stay with me forever, even the flight up to the point when the instructor strapped to me leaned on me sufficiently so as to ease us both out of the plane. Travelling at speeds of 200km an hour and freefalling for 10,000 feet which lasted about one minute was unbelievable, especially as this included passing through some clouds. Once the parachute was opened I could really enjoy the remainder of the journey back to earth, as the magnificent lakes and mountainous peaks were observed...now this was truely awesome!
Over the next few days we visited the West Coast and Glacier country, and then proceded to travel eastwards back to Christchurch via the beautiful scenic highway through Arthur's Pass.
Once back in Christchurch, we had a bit more free time so I decided to get an addition to my tattoo collection...like you do! Lol.
Otautahi Tatu was a lovely studio located in the heart of the city and I went in and asked for something original, and something to really remember New Zealand by. Incidentally, Otautahi means Christchurch in Maori according to a good kiwi friend of mine, Ange.
So on the tattooist's recommendation I had the outline of the two NZ islands inked into my upper arm, with maori swirls filled in. Without doubt the best tattoo I've ever had done and without doubt my favourite too.
Our journey then took us across the water to the North Island, initially spending a few days in Wellington before making our way north to Auckland.
I must admit the North Island didn't appeal to me as much as the South Island, but there was one notable exception - The Bay of Islands, and specifically Paihia.
Located north of Auckland this area was very tropical and seemed like paradise to me!
One morning I awoke early and went for a walk along the beach at 5am just as the sun was rising. I took a photo on my mobile phone (which appears alongside this entry if you viewing via facebook), and I was overwelmed - the whole place had a magical quality about it.
The following day it rained more-or-less all day, but it wasn't awful rain - just tropical rain, and it didn't prevent me from exploring more in the surrounding area.
A few miles away lies the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, where the much contested Treaty of Waitangi was first signed between Maori Chiefs and the British Crown.
Opposite the grounds lies a track which ultimately takes you to the Haruru Falls.
I set out on this walk which was approximately 10km in length, and what started out as a pleasant trek along flint footpaths developed into an unbelievable trek through swamps and mangrove forests until eventually the waterfall came into view. The whole trek took me about a couple of hours, but it was typical of most things in New Zealand - you have to experience it yourself to fully appreciate it!
I left Auckland in 30 degree heat, and landed in Manchester a day later to be greeted by snow!
I took the train south to Cheltenham, and then spent the next month looking for work but to no avail. Out of the blue I received a message from an old friend in Crowthorne, Berkshire, who invited to spend some time with her and her young 4 year old daughter. We all got on well and we brokered a deal - I could live there rent free, so long as I acted as a child minder for her kid. It seemed a decent enough proposal at the time, but unfortunately things were to become quite ugly...but not before I decided to return to New Zealand for a proper adventure this time!
Nomadic Steve
For as long as I can remember I had wanted to travel to New Zealand, and witness all the wonderful scenery for myself. I had budgeted my finances for the past year to cater for this trip, and even without working for quite a while I had sufficient funds in place to enjoy the lifestyle that I was currently living, and still keep on top of all my repayments of my outstanding loans, bills and debts.
My first visit down under was via a structured escorted coach tour, which took in both islands and lasted for just over three weeks, staying in top-notch hotels. I was to fly from Manchester to Christchurch via Singapore, and spend about ten days on the South Island before transferring across to the North Island for the remainder of the stay, and then fly home from Auckland.
Being a holiday through an agent, this meant spending the bulk of the trip in the company of about 50 other people, who were mostly retired folks. Naturally it wasn't easy to keep all of the people happy all of the time, but I was just satisfied to finally realise my dream, and I did meet some great friends in Brian & Christine Mountford who were also on the trip. We would regularly share our evenings at one restaurant or another, and we enjoyed each others company. Having said that, there was plenty of time for me to go off and do my own thing...and I definitely did that as you'll soon discover! Lol.
The intention for me for this holiday was to get a taster for New Zealand, and then hopefully return at a later date to explore at greater length any specific areas which took my fancy. If as expected, I fell in love with the place then maybe I could settle down there one day as a place that I could finally call 'home'.
Little did I know that I would return much sooner than I could ever have anticipated!
I left behind a cold and wet British winter and arrived a few days later (after spending a while in Singapore) on the other side of the world, to be greeted by a scorching Kiwi summer. After two long-haul flights most of my companions on the coach party went straight to sleep at our first hotel, the gorgeous Chateau On The Park in Christchurch, due to jet-lag...but not me!
A quick shower and change into T-shirt and shorts, and then I was out to explore Christchurch in the sun!
And that's pretty much how the rest of the holiday went - the old 'uns did the touristy things whilst I tried to venture deeper into the culture and experience some of the other aspects that New Zealand had to offer.
The highlights of the South Island part of the holiday was witnessing the eighth wonder of the world that is Milford Sound, and also on a purely personal note spending three fantastic days in Queenstown.
The South Island is predominently full of mountain ranges and vast lakes, whereas the North Island is more volcanic and has more emphasis on the maori historical culture and heritage.
After spending a few days in Christchurch, we headed off to Queenstown which is universally known as the extreme sports capital of the island!
We took a day trip from Queenstown bound for the magnificent Milford Sound, which is located in the heart of Fiordland in the south-west of the island.
The first sight of Milford Sound is stunning: still, dark waters out of which rise sheer rocky cliffs, and forests clinging to the slopes sometimes relinquish their hold, causing a 'tree avalanche' into the waters. The spectacular, photogenic 1692m- high Mitre Peak features most prominently. We cruised out onto the waters of Milford Sound to witness cascading waterfalls, dolphins and seals - awesome as they say in NZ.
The following day, now back in Queenstown, I took advantage of a free day and realised another dream... to do a tandem skydive!
I hadn't planned to do it, but a company called NZONE had a sales office in town, so I just popped in and booked a jump from the maximum available height of 15,000 feet.
I can honestly say, and I'm not being brave, that I had no fear whatsoever, which is a bit ironic as the slogan of the company states 'Embrace The Fear'. The whole experience will stay with me forever, even the flight up to the point when the instructor strapped to me leaned on me sufficiently so as to ease us both out of the plane. Travelling at speeds of 200km an hour and freefalling for 10,000 feet which lasted about one minute was unbelievable, especially as this included passing through some clouds. Once the parachute was opened I could really enjoy the remainder of the journey back to earth, as the magnificent lakes and mountainous peaks were observed...now this was truely awesome!
Over the next few days we visited the West Coast and Glacier country, and then proceded to travel eastwards back to Christchurch via the beautiful scenic highway through Arthur's Pass.
Once back in Christchurch, we had a bit more free time so I decided to get an addition to my tattoo collection...like you do! Lol.
Otautahi Tatu was a lovely studio located in the heart of the city and I went in and asked for something original, and something to really remember New Zealand by. Incidentally, Otautahi means Christchurch in Maori according to a good kiwi friend of mine, Ange.
So on the tattooist's recommendation I had the outline of the two NZ islands inked into my upper arm, with maori swirls filled in. Without doubt the best tattoo I've ever had done and without doubt my favourite too.
Our journey then took us across the water to the North Island, initially spending a few days in Wellington before making our way north to Auckland.
I must admit the North Island didn't appeal to me as much as the South Island, but there was one notable exception - The Bay of Islands, and specifically Paihia.
Located north of Auckland this area was very tropical and seemed like paradise to me!
One morning I awoke early and went for a walk along the beach at 5am just as the sun was rising. I took a photo on my mobile phone (which appears alongside this entry if you viewing via facebook), and I was overwelmed - the whole place had a magical quality about it.
The following day it rained more-or-less all day, but it wasn't awful rain - just tropical rain, and it didn't prevent me from exploring more in the surrounding area.
A few miles away lies the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, where the much contested Treaty of Waitangi was first signed between Maori Chiefs and the British Crown.
Opposite the grounds lies a track which ultimately takes you to the Haruru Falls.
I set out on this walk which was approximately 10km in length, and what started out as a pleasant trek along flint footpaths developed into an unbelievable trek through swamps and mangrove forests until eventually the waterfall came into view. The whole trek took me about a couple of hours, but it was typical of most things in New Zealand - you have to experience it yourself to fully appreciate it!
I left Auckland in 30 degree heat, and landed in Manchester a day later to be greeted by snow!
I took the train south to Cheltenham, and then spent the next month looking for work but to no avail. Out of the blue I received a message from an old friend in Crowthorne, Berkshire, who invited to spend some time with her and her young 4 year old daughter. We all got on well and we brokered a deal - I could live there rent free, so long as I acted as a child minder for her kid. It seemed a decent enough proposal at the time, but unfortunately things were to become quite ugly...but not before I decided to return to New Zealand for a proper adventure this time!
Nomadic Steve
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Montpelier Exchange
"live in the moment, or you'll never be free ~ choose life, choose living ~ choose essence..."
Picking up from where I left off last time, the decision between returning to Bath or moving to Cheltenham wasn't very difficult in the end.
I had spent three years in Bath and had left heartbroken, so why would I want to go back there when I could live somewhere new, exciting and welcoming.
Jimi & Denn had moved to Cheltenham a few years previously, and they very kindly invited me to join them with their family one Christmas. On Boxing Day we went around the town and it felt like a place where I could live one day. So whilst scheming up my plan to move away from Bradley Stoke, I started visting the town and exploring possible letting agents. Cheltenham was directly north up the M5 from where I lived and worked, and the journey took about half an hour irrespective of whether you took the train or drove a car.
By May 2008 I was ready to move on and viewed a couple of properties in Cheltenham courtesy of a letting agent located in Montpelier Exchange. This area was about a ten minute walk from the town centre, but was a lively place in its own right. The alure of a gorgeous parade of boutiques, wine bars, reastaurants, and bistros was very enticing, and the second property that I viewed had the added bonus on being just a stones throw away.
Lansdown Court was a large, beautiful, listed building, which kept all the period features on the facade, but had been converted into 24 apartments inside. My flat was on the first floor, which you reached by climbing a grand, wide sweeping staircase. Inside featured a small bathroom, but with the best shower I've ever used, a fair sized living room, a modern galley style kichen, and a large bedroom. The rooms had high ceilings and the windows didn't have curtains, but internal wooden shutters instead. These were a god send to me, as for the first couple of months that I lived there I was still working my notice period from my warehouse nightshift job, so these shutters completely blacked out the light during the day, which enabled me to get some quality sleep at last.
Initially, I only really had the weekends to explore the town further, but by the end of August I had finished work and suddenly I was a man of complete leisure. The first thing I did was visit Glenn & Ruth, who by now had returned to Ireland to live.
I then decided to use September and October to recharge my batteries and get aquainted to Cheltenham and a normal lifestyle after four-and-a-half years of nightshift work, and in November I had my adventure to New Zealand to look forward to. I also felt that after working continually for 25 years, I was entitled to a break, and this would be a great opportunity to re-evaluate my life and try to work out where it was going. I also wanted to try to catch up with some friends who I hadn't seen in a while, and maybe build a few bridges with some people who I had lost touch with for one reason or another. This included catching up with my best mate from school, Martin Kirk, who by now was living up in Stoke-on-Trent with his second wife. He had left his first wife at the same time as I had left Psycho, so as we both sort of did a 'runner' we totally lost touch with each other. But like all good friends, the time apart didn't matter once we finally met up, and it was just like I last saw him yesterday - cheers mate!
A typical Cheltenham day as a man of leisure:
Between 8am and 9am I would go on an hours walk around varying routes of the town.
After a shower, I then walked into town for a Starbucks or Costa breakfast.
Whilst in town I would then spend an hour at the local library on a PC reviewing my e-mails and any facebook messages.
I would then return home around midday to catch up on any mail and watch Sky Sports News for a little while - back in the good old days when it was still on Freeview!
After a spot of lunch I would head back into town again to watch a movie at the local cinema, before heading back home making sure that I enjoyed a pint of guinness at the Montpelier Wine Bar, which was my nearest watering hole.
The evenings were spent either catching up with friends on the phone or in person, or making plans for my impending trip to New Zealand.
Walking away from work and quitting my job, although probably slightly irresponsible, was still the best thing that I ever did up until that point in my life. I had definitely lost my way and was feeling pretty low.
I had become totally disillusioned with life around this time, which was why I needed to escape to New Zealand and remove myself from the chaos in this country, not to mention my personal life.
My idea was to go away for a month, whilst keeping my flat in Cheltenham as a good base, and then come back with my batteries recharged and ready to take on a fresh challenge.
Little did I know at the time that I had decided to take a career break in the midst of a recession and god knows what I'd be returning to after my travels abroad...but for now I didn't care - I just wanted to experience New Zealand and realise my dream!
As it transpired, I only actually resided in Cheltenham for six months, and on my return from overseas I was to enter a difficult time in my life...but let's forget that for now and remember New Zealand instead!
Nomadic Steve
Monday, December 6, 2010
Sadly Broke
"you don't need eyes to see, you need vision..."
For the first time on my spiritual journey to find a home, I had a vision of what I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go, although I was aware that I'd need to be patient and bide my time - I was a man with a plan!
My car was costing me too much to keep on the road, I wanted to leave Bath for reasons already explained, and so I decided to sell my motor and move to within walking distance of where I worked. My proirity was to plan for the future.
Bradley Stoke is a relatively new big housing estate between eight and twelve miles from Bristol depending on which route you take. Like I previously said, some folks cruely labelled this estate 'Sadly Broke', although to be honest I don't know why. The estate was quite modern, and the area was well constructed even if all the houses looked the same. There was a conservation area in the middle of the estate, with tracks and paths surrounding it, making walking and cycling a pleasant experience. There were a few pubs, shops for all the essentials and generally it was a very practical place to live, but rather void of any real character or identity.
It was however, very much a home of convenience for me at that particular time of my life.
I worked in a warehouse in an industrial estate located just behind the junction where the M5 merges with the M4, and sadly broke I definitely wasn't - I would say that I was at my wealthiest whilst residing in Bradley Stoke, which completely contradicts the 'Sadly Broke' description.
This was all down to a friendly Depot Manager who kindly gave me additional hours during the mornings to work in the office to supplement my already well paid job as a supervisor working nights. (thanks Lucy!)
My house itself was like the rest on the estate - all breeze blocks and plasterboard, but it served a purpose and enabled me to put my plan into motion.
Downstairs was all laminated flooring with a kitchen just off the living area, and a spiral staircase took you upstairs to a large bedroom and adequate sized bathroom.
Outside there was a small enclosed garden, where during the summer I slept during the afternoons in a hammock I constructed, before embarking on my nighshift duties once darkness fell.
Sometimes I'd take the 20 minute walk to the big shopping centre, Cribbs Causeway, and chill out with a coffee, or sometimes I took the number 73 bus into the main city. Bristol was quite a big city, and there were lovely areas nearby like Clifton, where you could have a good time.
But Bristol/Bradley Stoke was never going to be my home for long - it was just where I lived for a while for common sense sense reasons.
So what was my great plan?
The phrase 'make hay whilst the sun shines' was my motto throughout my tenure in Bradley Stoke, and whilst the overtime was still on offer I was working on average 65 hours per week and bringing home a tidy wage packet every month. During this period of my life I had no romantic involvements, so I had no drain on my financial resources!
I hadn't experienced a really decent holiday abroad ever, and I had always harboured dreams of visiting New Zealand. So I intended to keep my head down, pocket the money, and save towards an adventure on the other side of the world.
I had decided that when the time came to go travelling, that I wouldn't take time off work as a holiday, or request a sabbatical, but that I would make a clean break and quit my job. But this would mean that if I wanted to move again, then I would have to do so before resigning in order for all the successful credit checks and references to go through. Once I had secured a new home, I could commute whilst working my notice period, and then take some time out before venturing overseas.
So that was my plan. I had intended to stick to this for three years, but after only two I became restless so decided to bring my plans forward...the only decision I now faced was where I wished to relocate to.
Initially it had to be near enough for me to be able to commute to work so I had two practical options - return to Bath or explore the possibility of Cheltenham.
This part of my journey may well have been a practical and convenient phase, but I really felt that the momentum was gathering pace in my persuit of a true spiritual home...if nothing else, I remained an eternal optimist and a hopeless romantic!
Nomadic Steve
For the first time on my spiritual journey to find a home, I had a vision of what I wanted to do, and where I wanted to go, although I was aware that I'd need to be patient and bide my time - I was a man with a plan!
My car was costing me too much to keep on the road, I wanted to leave Bath for reasons already explained, and so I decided to sell my motor and move to within walking distance of where I worked. My proirity was to plan for the future.
Bradley Stoke is a relatively new big housing estate between eight and twelve miles from Bristol depending on which route you take. Like I previously said, some folks cruely labelled this estate 'Sadly Broke', although to be honest I don't know why. The estate was quite modern, and the area was well constructed even if all the houses looked the same. There was a conservation area in the middle of the estate, with tracks and paths surrounding it, making walking and cycling a pleasant experience. There were a few pubs, shops for all the essentials and generally it was a very practical place to live, but rather void of any real character or identity.
It was however, very much a home of convenience for me at that particular time of my life.
I worked in a warehouse in an industrial estate located just behind the junction where the M5 merges with the M4, and sadly broke I definitely wasn't - I would say that I was at my wealthiest whilst residing in Bradley Stoke, which completely contradicts the 'Sadly Broke' description.
This was all down to a friendly Depot Manager who kindly gave me additional hours during the mornings to work in the office to supplement my already well paid job as a supervisor working nights. (thanks Lucy!)
My house itself was like the rest on the estate - all breeze blocks and plasterboard, but it served a purpose and enabled me to put my plan into motion.
Downstairs was all laminated flooring with a kitchen just off the living area, and a spiral staircase took you upstairs to a large bedroom and adequate sized bathroom.
Outside there was a small enclosed garden, where during the summer I slept during the afternoons in a hammock I constructed, before embarking on my nighshift duties once darkness fell.
Sometimes I'd take the 20 minute walk to the big shopping centre, Cribbs Causeway, and chill out with a coffee, or sometimes I took the number 73 bus into the main city. Bristol was quite a big city, and there were lovely areas nearby like Clifton, where you could have a good time.
But Bristol/Bradley Stoke was never going to be my home for long - it was just where I lived for a while for common sense sense reasons.
So what was my great plan?
The phrase 'make hay whilst the sun shines' was my motto throughout my tenure in Bradley Stoke, and whilst the overtime was still on offer I was working on average 65 hours per week and bringing home a tidy wage packet every month. During this period of my life I had no romantic involvements, so I had no drain on my financial resources!
I hadn't experienced a really decent holiday abroad ever, and I had always harboured dreams of visiting New Zealand. So I intended to keep my head down, pocket the money, and save towards an adventure on the other side of the world.
I had decided that when the time came to go travelling, that I wouldn't take time off work as a holiday, or request a sabbatical, but that I would make a clean break and quit my job. But this would mean that if I wanted to move again, then I would have to do so before resigning in order for all the successful credit checks and references to go through. Once I had secured a new home, I could commute whilst working my notice period, and then take some time out before venturing overseas.
So that was my plan. I had intended to stick to this for three years, but after only two I became restless so decided to bring my plans forward...the only decision I now faced was where I wished to relocate to.
Initially it had to be near enough for me to be able to commute to work so I had two practical options - return to Bath or explore the possibility of Cheltenham.
This part of my journey may well have been a practical and convenient phase, but I really felt that the momentum was gathering pace in my persuit of a true spiritual home...if nothing else, I remained an eternal optimist and a hopeless romantic!
Nomadic Steve
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Following My Heart To Bath
"Happiness is the road..."
The phrase above has two meanings to me:
1. Happiness isn't at the end of the road, happiness is the road - by this, I mean the journey itself should be enjoyed and not just the destination when you get there.
2. Specifically, the journey along on the A36 between Warminster and Bath is particularly enjoyable - as you travel along the windy downhill road suddenly Bath comes into view on your right-hand side, and if you're like me, a feeling of contentment and happiness burns inside...maybe, I'd finally found my spiritual home?
As my path continued to wind its' own magical way, I definitely found a place which felt like home and one that I had been seeking ever since my journey had begun.
If Bournemouth featured my favourite dwelling to date, then Bath definitely came closest to being my favourite 'home'. I had scouted the city on numerous occassions previoulsy, both when I worked there for a while, and also when I visited some friends that I had made at a later date.
I fell in love with the place and suprisingly for me, I actually appreciated the architecture and history of the city. Also, the people in general were very friendly with their west country accents.
I had given myself just one afternoon to secure a lease on a property, and I viewed three places. The first two were in the Oldfield Park area of the city, which featured many of the university student homes, and something didn't quite feel right about them, as they shared communal front doors or entrances and I didn't particularly like the area either.
The final property was in a little village just outside the city centre called Batheaston. Specifically, the home was an annex of a larger building on a steep hill in a street called The Batch. Although split on two levels, technically the place was a studio apartment, but the place had loads of character and plenty of charm. Downstairs was a small kitchen and a fairly large bathroom, and upstairs was the living area.
The downstairs featured painted stone walls and stone tiled flooring, whereas upstairs featured original wooden beams and big sash windows overlooking the hills and countryside. Although it was small, I felt I could maximise the space and feel very comfortable there. How right I was as I actually lived in this home for one month shy of three years, and enjoyed many happy times.
As previously stated, I was moving to the area to follow my heart and follow the girl that I originally met in Bournemouth, but alas as predicted things didn't work out - the relationship unfortunately fizzled out, but I had no regrets as we shared some precious moments and special times together.
The village itself was perfect for a new eligible batchelor like me as within the community were a pub, a chip shop and a convenience store - what more could a single guy want?
For the first time in my life I actually had a genuine local pub, and I actually felt part of the local community.
Obviously initially people were wary of an outsider, but over time the air of mystery surrounding me evaporated, and I was welcomed throughout the village.
Without any shadow of a doubt the best thing about village life was the local pub, The George & Dragon, which was managed by my soon-to-be great friends Jimi & Denise.
They were the finest hosts. Jimi really looked after his beer, and the guinness was the best I've ever tasted outside of Ireland.
Jimi was an ex-Navy diver who loved to tell tales of his past exploits with his sharp scouse wit.
As for his better half....Denn had the face of an angel, but the dirtiest laugh I've ever heard!
They were a really lovely couple, who are now blessed with two gorgeous boys, Marshall & Ossie.
When I changed jobs from a white-collar office worker to a manual warehouse supervisor working a nightshift, I practically lived in that pub! When you also take into account that for a while I was romantically involved with one of the barmaids, well I just couldn't keep away from the place!
I had some regular drinking buddies, the best of which was definitely Dave who remains in the village to this day, affectionately known as Postie for obvious reasons. He had a lovely daughter, Jo who also became a good friend and although she has since moved away too, I still keep in contact with them both.
Another feature of the local pub was the pool team. I only represented the G&D for one season, but during this time we got promoted out of the league we were in, and reached a knock-out cup final. Without being too modest, I can truthfully say that I was consistently the second best player in the village, who rarely got beat either in friendly games or in competitive matches. The only player better than me was a guy called Jon Perry - and there was no shame in being second best to him, as he used to practise with the professional snooker player Stephen Lee, who at the peak of his powers was ranked in the Top 5 in the world!
Having said that I also started to beat Jon on occassions, so I knew my form was pretty good.
As for Bath itself the city was brilliant. I regularly used to walk into the city from the village either via the canal tow path, or by the elevated single track back roads which gently unwind towards the city centre.
Just spending time browsing the shops, chilling out in the numerous parks, marvelling at the architecture such as the Royal Crescent and the Roman Baths, consumed my spare time with ease. Whilst I still had my car, I also used to drive to the pretty village of Bradford-upon-Avon sometimes, or catch up with friends in nearby Hilperton or Trowbridge.
So why if life was so good, and I finally found a place which I could call home, did I leave you may well ask?
Well, once again it all comes down to a woman...although this wasn't the only reason.
During the second summer in Batheaston, I enjoyed a romance with a young girl 13 years my junior, which is always good for the ego if nothing else. Due to the age difference, it wasn't any suprise that this relationship didn't last, but the following summer I fell totally head over heels with the aforementioned barmaid...who ultimately broke my heart I'm sad to say.
But hey-ho, that's life and you know what they say - it's better to have loved and lost, than to not to have loved at all.
So feeling heartbroken, I decided to move on and when I also found out that Jimi & Denn were leaving the pub, this only confirmed my intentions. I knew that whoever took over the pub wouldn't be able to live up to my great friends, who were in my opinion the life and soul of the village.
For the first time, and probably only time in my life, I decided to make a practical decision meaning I would be moving to a suburb of Bristol about 20 miles away, known by some as Sadly Broke!
But I had learned a very valuable lesson on the latest leg of my journey...my spiritual home would have be a place where my heart could find happiness. They say home is where the heart is, but my heart needed to find a new home!
Nomadic Steve
The phrase above has two meanings to me:
1. Happiness isn't at the end of the road, happiness is the road - by this, I mean the journey itself should be enjoyed and not just the destination when you get there.
2. Specifically, the journey along on the A36 between Warminster and Bath is particularly enjoyable - as you travel along the windy downhill road suddenly Bath comes into view on your right-hand side, and if you're like me, a feeling of contentment and happiness burns inside...maybe, I'd finally found my spiritual home?
As my path continued to wind its' own magical way, I definitely found a place which felt like home and one that I had been seeking ever since my journey had begun.
If Bournemouth featured my favourite dwelling to date, then Bath definitely came closest to being my favourite 'home'. I had scouted the city on numerous occassions previoulsy, both when I worked there for a while, and also when I visited some friends that I had made at a later date.
I fell in love with the place and suprisingly for me, I actually appreciated the architecture and history of the city. Also, the people in general were very friendly with their west country accents.
I had given myself just one afternoon to secure a lease on a property, and I viewed three places. The first two were in the Oldfield Park area of the city, which featured many of the university student homes, and something didn't quite feel right about them, as they shared communal front doors or entrances and I didn't particularly like the area either.
The final property was in a little village just outside the city centre called Batheaston. Specifically, the home was an annex of a larger building on a steep hill in a street called The Batch. Although split on two levels, technically the place was a studio apartment, but the place had loads of character and plenty of charm. Downstairs was a small kitchen and a fairly large bathroom, and upstairs was the living area.
The downstairs featured painted stone walls and stone tiled flooring, whereas upstairs featured original wooden beams and big sash windows overlooking the hills and countryside. Although it was small, I felt I could maximise the space and feel very comfortable there. How right I was as I actually lived in this home for one month shy of three years, and enjoyed many happy times.
As previously stated, I was moving to the area to follow my heart and follow the girl that I originally met in Bournemouth, but alas as predicted things didn't work out - the relationship unfortunately fizzled out, but I had no regrets as we shared some precious moments and special times together.
The village itself was perfect for a new eligible batchelor like me as within the community were a pub, a chip shop and a convenience store - what more could a single guy want?
For the first time in my life I actually had a genuine local pub, and I actually felt part of the local community.
Obviously initially people were wary of an outsider, but over time the air of mystery surrounding me evaporated, and I was welcomed throughout the village.
Without any shadow of a doubt the best thing about village life was the local pub, The George & Dragon, which was managed by my soon-to-be great friends Jimi & Denise.
They were the finest hosts. Jimi really looked after his beer, and the guinness was the best I've ever tasted outside of Ireland.
Jimi was an ex-Navy diver who loved to tell tales of his past exploits with his sharp scouse wit.
As for his better half....Denn had the face of an angel, but the dirtiest laugh I've ever heard!
They were a really lovely couple, who are now blessed with two gorgeous boys, Marshall & Ossie.
When I changed jobs from a white-collar office worker to a manual warehouse supervisor working a nightshift, I practically lived in that pub! When you also take into account that for a while I was romantically involved with one of the barmaids, well I just couldn't keep away from the place!
I had some regular drinking buddies, the best of which was definitely Dave who remains in the village to this day, affectionately known as Postie for obvious reasons. He had a lovely daughter, Jo who also became a good friend and although she has since moved away too, I still keep in contact with them both.
Another feature of the local pub was the pool team. I only represented the G&D for one season, but during this time we got promoted out of the league we were in, and reached a knock-out cup final. Without being too modest, I can truthfully say that I was consistently the second best player in the village, who rarely got beat either in friendly games or in competitive matches. The only player better than me was a guy called Jon Perry - and there was no shame in being second best to him, as he used to practise with the professional snooker player Stephen Lee, who at the peak of his powers was ranked in the Top 5 in the world!
Having said that I also started to beat Jon on occassions, so I knew my form was pretty good.
As for Bath itself the city was brilliant. I regularly used to walk into the city from the village either via the canal tow path, or by the elevated single track back roads which gently unwind towards the city centre.
Just spending time browsing the shops, chilling out in the numerous parks, marvelling at the architecture such as the Royal Crescent and the Roman Baths, consumed my spare time with ease. Whilst I still had my car, I also used to drive to the pretty village of Bradford-upon-Avon sometimes, or catch up with friends in nearby Hilperton or Trowbridge.
So why if life was so good, and I finally found a place which I could call home, did I leave you may well ask?
Well, once again it all comes down to a woman...although this wasn't the only reason.
During the second summer in Batheaston, I enjoyed a romance with a young girl 13 years my junior, which is always good for the ego if nothing else. Due to the age difference, it wasn't any suprise that this relationship didn't last, but the following summer I fell totally head over heels with the aforementioned barmaid...who ultimately broke my heart I'm sad to say.
But hey-ho, that's life and you know what they say - it's better to have loved and lost, than to not to have loved at all.
So feeling heartbroken, I decided to move on and when I also found out that Jimi & Denn were leaving the pub, this only confirmed my intentions. I knew that whoever took over the pub wouldn't be able to live up to my great friends, who were in my opinion the life and soul of the village.
For the first time, and probably only time in my life, I decided to make a practical decision meaning I would be moving to a suburb of Bristol about 20 miles away, known by some as Sadly Broke!
But I had learned a very valuable lesson on the latest leg of my journey...my spiritual home would have be a place where my heart could find happiness. They say home is where the heart is, but my heart needed to find a new home!
Nomadic Steve
Monday, November 29, 2010
Home By The Sea
"alone again in the lap of luxury..."
By my calculations I have resided in 17 'homes' during the past 14 years, and without any doubt, if I had to pick one of these as my favourite in terms of the actual dwelling, not neccesarily the location, then my home by the sea in Bournemouth wins every time.
It was deceptive from the outside, but once you stepped inside it resembled a cross between Doctor Who's Tardis and a lighthouse!
The living area itself was five flights up.
On the ground floor was a small utility room, which I made into a gym complete with ski-machine and a punch-bag. Two flights up was a second utility room which contained the washing machine and drying area.
A further two flights up was a small bathroom - the one disappointment with the apartment, and then finally a short climb up one further staircase to the main living space.
The landing step at the top of the stairs was big enough to house a dining table - so that's just what I did!
Once you reached the summit of the apartment, maybe with use of oxygen unless you had previous high altitude experience, was a large fully fitted kitchen, a seperate second bedroom recently kitted out with laminated flooring and sky-light, the large master bedroom, and finally the living room.
The living room was very spacious complete with a small balcony which overlooked the sea. You could constantly hear the crashing of waves onto the nearby shore.
The house itself was located in Alum Chime about a ten minute walk away from Westbourne, where the Nash-Williams main office stood where I now worked, which was a further ten minute walk away from the Bournemouth town centre. Alternatively, from my house you could walk down the hill to a steep slope, which then took you down to the promenade. From there you could walk along the sea front into town in about twenty minutes, which obviously was a much better scenic route.
The home was owned by a sufer, beach-bum who had taken off to the West Indies for six months, so chose to use a letting agency to lease it out whilst he was away, and I was the lucky recipient. Surf boards adorned the walls on the various flights of stairs, which gave the impression that I was a beach-bum too...and I never argued with anyone who made that impression - my extreme sports days were to follow much later in New Zealand!
Unfortunately, the owner was to return after eight months away, giving me an extra couple of months there after my initial six month tenancy agreement, and the remainder of my time in Bournemouth (a further six months) was spent in another apartment which doesn't really merit a mention as it pales into insignificance in comparison to my home by the sea.
Bournemouth itself was a strange place in my opinion. During the summer the place was swamped with tourists, so bad that you just wanted to tell everyone to p**s off & can we have our town back please!
Yet in the winter it was quiet and I enjoyed walking along the beach with Rose and her lovely springer alsation, Harley, despite the windswept conditions.
I also found generally speaking that Bournemouth people were quite aloof and pretensious (that doesn't include you Hannah, if you're reading). There is a lot of wealth there, but those that have got it don't seem to want to invest it back in the town - they prefer to keep it for themselves and flash it around when it suits. You only have to look at the Sandbanks area to understand what I mean, where apparantly unless a property is guaranteed to be valued in excess of £1 million, the local council won't allow planning permision.
Whilst I was living in Bournemouth I started getting back into playing pool, and Marty regularly travelled down from Fleet (he had gotten out of Slough too), and he would crash at my place for the weekend. We would have marathan pool sessions at a local club, playing on Amercian Pool tables and we both got to a really decent standard. In fact Marty registered as a semi-pro 9-ball player and got in the UK Top 50 at one stage, and I grew in confidence with my ability as a player as I could beat him quite regularly too.
We also 'hustled' a bit from time-to-time, and on one memorable occassion some 'numpty' lost all his money to Marty for a solitary frame, and then proceeded to play 'double-or-quits' with me, only to lose again. But he couldn't come up with the goods, so he gave me his girlfriend instead! Needless to say, being the gentleman that I am...I declined!
Also whilst living in Bournemouth, I honed my previous skills as a relaxational masseuer thanks to a girlfriend who I met at work, and was to follow when I finally left Bournemouth.
I've often flirted with persuing a career as a masseuer, but I always have the same problem - for every gorgeous woman I've ever massaged, if I was to do it professionally then I'd have to contemplate the fact that there would a hairy-backed bloke requiring my services...and I just couldn't do that! Lol.
So that was Bournemouth.
When Rose announced that she was going to return to Ireland to pick up a career in nursing, and then the girl that I was seeing informed me that she was moving to Gloucester I had a decision to make...and I made a compromise that I felt very comfortable with.
I had to follow her to the West of England, as I knew I'd always be wondering what would have happened between us if I didn't go. But at the same time, deep down, I really couldn't see things working out for us long-term.
So I decided that rather than put all my eggs into one basket, why didn't I move nearer to where she was going to be, but also to a place where I could be happy if things didn't work out.
That place was...Bath!
Nomadic Steve
By my calculations I have resided in 17 'homes' during the past 14 years, and without any doubt, if I had to pick one of these as my favourite in terms of the actual dwelling, not neccesarily the location, then my home by the sea in Bournemouth wins every time.
It was deceptive from the outside, but once you stepped inside it resembled a cross between Doctor Who's Tardis and a lighthouse!
The living area itself was five flights up.
On the ground floor was a small utility room, which I made into a gym complete with ski-machine and a punch-bag. Two flights up was a second utility room which contained the washing machine and drying area.
A further two flights up was a small bathroom - the one disappointment with the apartment, and then finally a short climb up one further staircase to the main living space.
The landing step at the top of the stairs was big enough to house a dining table - so that's just what I did!
Once you reached the summit of the apartment, maybe with use of oxygen unless you had previous high altitude experience, was a large fully fitted kitchen, a seperate second bedroom recently kitted out with laminated flooring and sky-light, the large master bedroom, and finally the living room.
The living room was very spacious complete with a small balcony which overlooked the sea. You could constantly hear the crashing of waves onto the nearby shore.
The house itself was located in Alum Chime about a ten minute walk away from Westbourne, where the Nash-Williams main office stood where I now worked, which was a further ten minute walk away from the Bournemouth town centre. Alternatively, from my house you could walk down the hill to a steep slope, which then took you down to the promenade. From there you could walk along the sea front into town in about twenty minutes, which obviously was a much better scenic route.
The home was owned by a sufer, beach-bum who had taken off to the West Indies for six months, so chose to use a letting agency to lease it out whilst he was away, and I was the lucky recipient. Surf boards adorned the walls on the various flights of stairs, which gave the impression that I was a beach-bum too...and I never argued with anyone who made that impression - my extreme sports days were to follow much later in New Zealand!
Unfortunately, the owner was to return after eight months away, giving me an extra couple of months there after my initial six month tenancy agreement, and the remainder of my time in Bournemouth (a further six months) was spent in another apartment which doesn't really merit a mention as it pales into insignificance in comparison to my home by the sea.
Bournemouth itself was a strange place in my opinion. During the summer the place was swamped with tourists, so bad that you just wanted to tell everyone to p**s off & can we have our town back please!
Yet in the winter it was quiet and I enjoyed walking along the beach with Rose and her lovely springer alsation, Harley, despite the windswept conditions.
I also found generally speaking that Bournemouth people were quite aloof and pretensious (that doesn't include you Hannah, if you're reading). There is a lot of wealth there, but those that have got it don't seem to want to invest it back in the town - they prefer to keep it for themselves and flash it around when it suits. You only have to look at the Sandbanks area to understand what I mean, where apparantly unless a property is guaranteed to be valued in excess of £1 million, the local council won't allow planning permision.
Whilst I was living in Bournemouth I started getting back into playing pool, and Marty regularly travelled down from Fleet (he had gotten out of Slough too), and he would crash at my place for the weekend. We would have marathan pool sessions at a local club, playing on Amercian Pool tables and we both got to a really decent standard. In fact Marty registered as a semi-pro 9-ball player and got in the UK Top 50 at one stage, and I grew in confidence with my ability as a player as I could beat him quite regularly too.
We also 'hustled' a bit from time-to-time, and on one memorable occassion some 'numpty' lost all his money to Marty for a solitary frame, and then proceeded to play 'double-or-quits' with me, only to lose again. But he couldn't come up with the goods, so he gave me his girlfriend instead! Needless to say, being the gentleman that I am...I declined!
Also whilst living in Bournemouth, I honed my previous skills as a relaxational masseuer thanks to a girlfriend who I met at work, and was to follow when I finally left Bournemouth.
I've often flirted with persuing a career as a masseuer, but I always have the same problem - for every gorgeous woman I've ever massaged, if I was to do it professionally then I'd have to contemplate the fact that there would a hairy-backed bloke requiring my services...and I just couldn't do that! Lol.
So that was Bournemouth.
When Rose announced that she was going to return to Ireland to pick up a career in nursing, and then the girl that I was seeing informed me that she was moving to Gloucester I had a decision to make...and I made a compromise that I felt very comfortable with.
I had to follow her to the West of England, as I knew I'd always be wondering what would have happened between us if I didn't go. But at the same time, deep down, I really couldn't see things working out for us long-term.
So I decided that rather than put all my eggs into one basket, why didn't I move nearer to where she was going to be, but also to a place where I could be happy if things didn't work out.
That place was...Bath!
Nomadic Steve
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.
"It's not about what life brings to you, it's about what you bring to life..."
Following on from where I left off, my Irish friends fully understood the predicament I faced...Slough or Bournemouth - it's a tough choice! Lol.
Having said that it was great to go with their blessing as I knew I'd miss them greatly, but fortunately for me I was going to a wonderful apartment which was easily capable of entertaining large parties, and we also knew another mutual Irish friend who lived in nearby Winton, just on the outskirts of Bournemouth town centre. How I met this mutual friend nicely flows into the next part of my journey as I first met Maryrose whilst also experiencing my first taste of Irish hospitality.
My first visit to Ireland was for Glenn & Ruth's wedding, and we went by sea as they had quite a lot of presents and gifts to bring back to the UK.
It was quite bizarre as I actually travelled with them on the ferry across, as we shared the driving either side of the Irish Sea, I stayed with them up to the wedding, then I went off to did my own 'thing' whilst they honeymooned over there, before we then met up and travelled back together.
I'll re-visit that trip in a minute, but at this point I'd just like to say how lucky I am to be so welcomed all over southern Ireland. Without ever taking any of the hospitality on offer for granted, I feel that I can quite honestly say that I have 'surrogate' families in Limerick & County Laois, and I also know that there will always be a kind soul to offer me a bed for the night and a roof over my head in Cork and in Galway.
As well as feeling at home in Ireland, the celtic spirit seems to be in one blood...quite literally, as I had my first tattoo inked in Dublin, a celtic cross, followed by a personal oriental tat on another later visit to Galway.
All my Irish friends proclaim that I must have some Irish blood in me somewhere too, as they say that I'm too laid back to be an Englishman! I don't know about that - I just know that the Irish people generally don't take themselves too seriously, they know how to have a good time socially speaking, and they really 'enjoy the craic'.
To further emphasis the bond I share with my Irish brothers & sisters, when it came for a venue for my 40th birthday to be chosen, and a destination which could prove quite accessible to most, the obvious choice was Ireland - specifically, a lovely little village called Ring in West Cork...and a good time was had by all I can ensure you of that!
But back to my first visit and Glenn & Ruth's wedding.
Once we arrived Glenn & Ruth split up to spend some time with their respective families before their wedding, and I tagged along with Glenn staying with his family in Limerick.
My first night out was in Limerick and it truely brought home to me just how the Irish enjoy a good time.
It was fast approaching midnight as I stood in a hotel bar with Glenn & his mate Martin, and bearing in mind it was a Sunday night in what is still regarded as a religious, Catholic country I sheepishly went upto the barmaid to enquire, "What time do you stop serving tonight?".
Her reply was simply, "Well, that depends on what time you want to ho home!".
That was good enough for me!
So we proceeded to chew the fat and put the world to rights, before hailing a taxi and venturing to a club down in the docks, arriving at about 3am and leaving at god knows what time!
At this point, I just want to put English pubs and in particular English barstaff to shame - this is a generalisation, as I know plenty of good English barstaff, but thinking especially of the typical Wetherspoon bar person I'm sure you'll catch my drift.
Irish bar staff are trained as professionals, and they are not let loose on the public until they know how to serve and run a bar. I can give you two great examples of this professionalism and quality of service.
Firstly, on another occassion in the same Limerick hotel bar as mentioned above, I was part of a round of a dozen people. I went up to get the second round and I was greeted by the barman with the friendly request, "Same again, all round was it?" And we're not talking 12 pints of guinness either; there were a mixture of drinks in our round, and not only that but they brought them all over to our table when ready. Quality!
The second example was in a very busy bar in Cork on a Friday night. The pub was heaving and there were three bar staff on duty, the oldest I reckon was about 25. Yet not once did anyone have to wait to get served, everyone was always acknowledged as they approached the bar. Now, you don't get that in your local Wetherspoons do you?
The wedding itself was fantastic. Both families hadn't met that many times prior to the actual day but everyone got on like a house on fire. We practically drank the place dry, and the staff let us get our own drinks by about 3am. There was a live band playing, who encouraged others to pop onstage and jam along, and Glenn's mate Martin did just that as he's a mean harmonica player.
Funnily enough, another Irish mate of mine got wed (Fitz) and he organised a band to play live at his wedding. We had seen them performing the previous night playing a heavy rock gig in a pub in Limerick. Now they were playing a toned down set in a castle for a wedding, proving how versatile and talented they were, but the best bit was their roadie taking a break from packing up their gear afterwards, and taking an unplugged guitar and started playing an impromtu set of Bob Marley songs!
It was at Glenn & Ruth's wedding that I first met the aforementioned Maryrose, who although Irish and came from the same village as Ruth, was now living in Bournemouth - which was to be the destination of my next home...ironic or what?
Rose was a grand lass, but could be a bit feisty if you pressed the wrong buttons. And that was how we met, my mate Marty got into a bit of a debate with her and wouldn't back down, so I whisked her off to the dancefloor to relieve the tension...and we've been the best of mates ever since!
After the wedding and Glenn & Ruth went off for their honeymoon, I went off to explore some more of Ireland and took in Galway & Dublin, before journeying south to the lovely Avoca - scene of the hit TV series, Ballykissangel. I walked over the famous littel bridge and had a pint in the equally famous Fitzgeralds bar, whilst they were actually filming an episode of the TV programme. It was a grand day for sure!
So why you may ask, haven't I ever lived properly in Ireland? Well, believe me, I have thought about it many times...and still do sometimes. The problem is that I've never actually had an opportunity to move there with work or any potential job transfer. I did do some consultancy work in Northern Ireland with a payroll company in Belfast, but that was as close as I got.
The current economic climate over there doesn't help either with any job prospects - hell, they are in a worse financial state than Britain and that's quite an achievement in itself!
Because of all my lovely friends & 'family' over there, it has always been a place to visit rather than a place to call 'home'...but I will never discount it completely because you never know what the future may bring...
Nomadic Steve
Following on from where I left off, my Irish friends fully understood the predicament I faced...Slough or Bournemouth - it's a tough choice! Lol.
Having said that it was great to go with their blessing as I knew I'd miss them greatly, but fortunately for me I was going to a wonderful apartment which was easily capable of entertaining large parties, and we also knew another mutual Irish friend who lived in nearby Winton, just on the outskirts of Bournemouth town centre. How I met this mutual friend nicely flows into the next part of my journey as I first met Maryrose whilst also experiencing my first taste of Irish hospitality.
My first visit to Ireland was for Glenn & Ruth's wedding, and we went by sea as they had quite a lot of presents and gifts to bring back to the UK.
It was quite bizarre as I actually travelled with them on the ferry across, as we shared the driving either side of the Irish Sea, I stayed with them up to the wedding, then I went off to did my own 'thing' whilst they honeymooned over there, before we then met up and travelled back together.
I'll re-visit that trip in a minute, but at this point I'd just like to say how lucky I am to be so welcomed all over southern Ireland. Without ever taking any of the hospitality on offer for granted, I feel that I can quite honestly say that I have 'surrogate' families in Limerick & County Laois, and I also know that there will always be a kind soul to offer me a bed for the night and a roof over my head in Cork and in Galway.
As well as feeling at home in Ireland, the celtic spirit seems to be in one blood...quite literally, as I had my first tattoo inked in Dublin, a celtic cross, followed by a personal oriental tat on another later visit to Galway.
All my Irish friends proclaim that I must have some Irish blood in me somewhere too, as they say that I'm too laid back to be an Englishman! I don't know about that - I just know that the Irish people generally don't take themselves too seriously, they know how to have a good time socially speaking, and they really 'enjoy the craic'.
To further emphasis the bond I share with my Irish brothers & sisters, when it came for a venue for my 40th birthday to be chosen, and a destination which could prove quite accessible to most, the obvious choice was Ireland - specifically, a lovely little village called Ring in West Cork...and a good time was had by all I can ensure you of that!
But back to my first visit and Glenn & Ruth's wedding.
Once we arrived Glenn & Ruth split up to spend some time with their respective families before their wedding, and I tagged along with Glenn staying with his family in Limerick.
My first night out was in Limerick and it truely brought home to me just how the Irish enjoy a good time.
It was fast approaching midnight as I stood in a hotel bar with Glenn & his mate Martin, and bearing in mind it was a Sunday night in what is still regarded as a religious, Catholic country I sheepishly went upto the barmaid to enquire, "What time do you stop serving tonight?".
Her reply was simply, "Well, that depends on what time you want to ho home!".
That was good enough for me!
So we proceeded to chew the fat and put the world to rights, before hailing a taxi and venturing to a club down in the docks, arriving at about 3am and leaving at god knows what time!
At this point, I just want to put English pubs and in particular English barstaff to shame - this is a generalisation, as I know plenty of good English barstaff, but thinking especially of the typical Wetherspoon bar person I'm sure you'll catch my drift.
Irish bar staff are trained as professionals, and they are not let loose on the public until they know how to serve and run a bar. I can give you two great examples of this professionalism and quality of service.
Firstly, on another occassion in the same Limerick hotel bar as mentioned above, I was part of a round of a dozen people. I went up to get the second round and I was greeted by the barman with the friendly request, "Same again, all round was it?" And we're not talking 12 pints of guinness either; there were a mixture of drinks in our round, and not only that but they brought them all over to our table when ready. Quality!
The second example was in a very busy bar in Cork on a Friday night. The pub was heaving and there were three bar staff on duty, the oldest I reckon was about 25. Yet not once did anyone have to wait to get served, everyone was always acknowledged as they approached the bar. Now, you don't get that in your local Wetherspoons do you?
The wedding itself was fantastic. Both families hadn't met that many times prior to the actual day but everyone got on like a house on fire. We practically drank the place dry, and the staff let us get our own drinks by about 3am. There was a live band playing, who encouraged others to pop onstage and jam along, and Glenn's mate Martin did just that as he's a mean harmonica player.
Funnily enough, another Irish mate of mine got wed (Fitz) and he organised a band to play live at his wedding. We had seen them performing the previous night playing a heavy rock gig in a pub in Limerick. Now they were playing a toned down set in a castle for a wedding, proving how versatile and talented they were, but the best bit was their roadie taking a break from packing up their gear afterwards, and taking an unplugged guitar and started playing an impromtu set of Bob Marley songs!
It was at Glenn & Ruth's wedding that I first met the aforementioned Maryrose, who although Irish and came from the same village as Ruth, was now living in Bournemouth - which was to be the destination of my next home...ironic or what?
Rose was a grand lass, but could be a bit feisty if you pressed the wrong buttons. And that was how we met, my mate Marty got into a bit of a debate with her and wouldn't back down, so I whisked her off to the dancefloor to relieve the tension...and we've been the best of mates ever since!
After the wedding and Glenn & Ruth went off for their honeymoon, I went off to explore some more of Ireland and took in Galway & Dublin, before journeying south to the lovely Avoca - scene of the hit TV series, Ballykissangel. I walked over the famous littel bridge and had a pint in the equally famous Fitzgeralds bar, whilst they were actually filming an episode of the TV programme. It was a grand day for sure!
So why you may ask, haven't I ever lived properly in Ireland? Well, believe me, I have thought about it many times...and still do sometimes. The problem is that I've never actually had an opportunity to move there with work or any potential job transfer. I did do some consultancy work in Northern Ireland with a payroll company in Belfast, but that was as close as I got.
The current economic climate over there doesn't help either with any job prospects - hell, they are in a worse financial state than Britain and that's quite an achievement in itself!
Because of all my lovely friends & 'family' over there, it has always been a place to visit rather than a place to call 'home'...but I will never discount it completely because you never know what the future may bring...
Nomadic Steve
Monday, November 22, 2010
The Concrete Jungle
"on the outskirts of nowhere, on the ringroad to somewhere..."
After escaping a town which was famous for many a joke, Bognor Regis, I really moved up the world as I arrived in...Slough!
Now this place was indeed a concrete jungle and was a real shock to the system!
Famous for 'The Office' and the local area being part of Ali G's territory (Langley/Staines massive!), Slough was an experience if nothing else. But from what I've learned any experience is good experience, be it a good, bad or an indifferent one, and anyway I really believe that you have to experience the bad to appreciate the good.
Not that Slough was all that bad. It was a great base to live, with a good motorway network (M4/M3/M25) on your doorstep, as well as the rail station and Heathrow Airport nearby, and the funny thing is that you could go a short distance in any direction and be in a better place - Windsor to the south, Maidenhead to the west, Uxbridge to the north, and Ealing Broadway to the east. You could jump on a train and be in Reading or London via Paddington in either direction in about quarter of an hour.
Withe regards to the motorways, I did hear but I don't know how true it is, that the Queen insisted on the M4 being built as this would block out Slough from her view from Windsor castle!
Before I moved into my own place in Slough, I did live with a lovely girl first as a friend, then as a girlfriend in nearby Langley. She was just what I needed after 'Physco', as she was very loving and very generous. She looked like Sarah Jessica Parker from Sex & The City somedays, whilst other days she definitely resembled Uma Thurman, especially the character she played in Pulp Fiction. We remain friends to this day, and we never argued but after a while I could sense I was slightly invading her space, so chose to break off the relationship in order for us to remain friends. It was just too soon for both of us, as she too had just finished a ten year relationship.
So, after leaving my brief Langly residence I moved into a tiny studio flat in a rough area of Slough (Chalvey) but was fortunate that is was right next to the local Police station, and suprisingly I stayed in this place for three years, before moving to one of the few upmarket areas of Slough (Sussex Place) and leasing an expensive flat for only a few months before moving yet again.
But back to Slough in a minute...
As you may recall I was in a hotel in the New Forest wasn't I.
The reason for this is that I took a job with the retailer TK Maxx in Slough, but when I arrived at the branch I found a building site! The shop hadn't been renovated yet, and I was to return to the Southampton branch in the meantime...the only thing was nobody had bothered to tell me, and I had no place to stay as I had left my home behind in Bognor.
The company kindly me put up in a hotel for the duration of my stay, initially in the New Forest, and then in the Dolphin in Southampton.
Living in a hotel may sound pretty luxurious but believe me the novelty soon wears off and the boredom soon sets in. Fortunately, it was the summer and Ocean Village was nearby, so I spent my days off and evenings down there in the various tapas bars, whilst watching the millionaire jet-set attending their yachts docked in the marina!
After a few months I returned to life in Slough and soon got accustomed to the locals.
There is a very heavy Asian community present there, which after living for nearly 30 years in Bognor was quite an adjustment. But adjust is what I did and life was good.
I experienced my first interacial relationship with a sweet Maylasian woman, and built up some great friendships with various people of differing cultures and backgrounds.
The one thing that I didn't like with the Asian community though, was that they weren't encouraged to integrate with the rest of society. The local council insisted on setting them up in their own estates and this tended to create mini colonies which was a shame.
Working in Slough also brought me together with my new Irish family!
Glenn & Ruth Courtney made the trip over from Ireland to forge a career in the UK, and if I felt I was experiencing a culture shock then god knows what they made of it!
Glenn, Marty (another Irish lad), and myself were the only members of management originating from Europe who worked at TK Maxx, so we quite naturally bonded and became the three amigos!
We remain close to this day, even though Glenn & Ruth have since returned 'home' to Ireland, and an open invitation is always there for me to visit, as after all I am now classed as family to them.
After a while with TK Maxx, I got head-hunted by BHS to work for them which was rewarding to start with as it meant training in Bath. I fell in love with the place and vowed to return one day...which I did a few years later as I'll write about in a future blog.
But my heart wasn't in retail anymore, so I took a position with an accounts/payroll company called Nash-Williams and suddenly I was enjoying life to the max. I did take a pay cut, but my quality of life rapidly improved, as I was now working Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 and the world was my oyster at weekends...well Berkshire & Bucks was anyway!
Shortly after moving into the second lovely apartment in Sussex Place, I was given an ultimatum by my new employers - either become redundant or take a transfer to their head office in Bournemouth as they were closing the local office due to my manager's imminent retirement.
Well, a guy like me with no commitments, ties or attachements, who could place his entire belongings and possessions into the back of a Peugeot 106, didn't have much of a choice... Bournemouth here I come and a lovely new home by the sea was awaiting me!
But before that I had to break the news to my Irish friends in Slough that I would be leaving...
Nomadic Steve
After escaping a town which was famous for many a joke, Bognor Regis, I really moved up the world as I arrived in...Slough!
Now this place was indeed a concrete jungle and was a real shock to the system!
Famous for 'The Office' and the local area being part of Ali G's territory (Langley/Staines massive!), Slough was an experience if nothing else. But from what I've learned any experience is good experience, be it a good, bad or an indifferent one, and anyway I really believe that you have to experience the bad to appreciate the good.
Not that Slough was all that bad. It was a great base to live, with a good motorway network (M4/M3/M25) on your doorstep, as well as the rail station and Heathrow Airport nearby, and the funny thing is that you could go a short distance in any direction and be in a better place - Windsor to the south, Maidenhead to the west, Uxbridge to the north, and Ealing Broadway to the east. You could jump on a train and be in Reading or London via Paddington in either direction in about quarter of an hour.
Withe regards to the motorways, I did hear but I don't know how true it is, that the Queen insisted on the M4 being built as this would block out Slough from her view from Windsor castle!
Before I moved into my own place in Slough, I did live with a lovely girl first as a friend, then as a girlfriend in nearby Langley. She was just what I needed after 'Physco', as she was very loving and very generous. She looked like Sarah Jessica Parker from Sex & The City somedays, whilst other days she definitely resembled Uma Thurman, especially the character she played in Pulp Fiction. We remain friends to this day, and we never argued but after a while I could sense I was slightly invading her space, so chose to break off the relationship in order for us to remain friends. It was just too soon for both of us, as she too had just finished a ten year relationship.
So, after leaving my brief Langly residence I moved into a tiny studio flat in a rough area of Slough (Chalvey) but was fortunate that is was right next to the local Police station, and suprisingly I stayed in this place for three years, before moving to one of the few upmarket areas of Slough (Sussex Place) and leasing an expensive flat for only a few months before moving yet again.
But back to Slough in a minute...
As you may recall I was in a hotel in the New Forest wasn't I.
The reason for this is that I took a job with the retailer TK Maxx in Slough, but when I arrived at the branch I found a building site! The shop hadn't been renovated yet, and I was to return to the Southampton branch in the meantime...the only thing was nobody had bothered to tell me, and I had no place to stay as I had left my home behind in Bognor.
The company kindly me put up in a hotel for the duration of my stay, initially in the New Forest, and then in the Dolphin in Southampton.
Living in a hotel may sound pretty luxurious but believe me the novelty soon wears off and the boredom soon sets in. Fortunately, it was the summer and Ocean Village was nearby, so I spent my days off and evenings down there in the various tapas bars, whilst watching the millionaire jet-set attending their yachts docked in the marina!
After a few months I returned to life in Slough and soon got accustomed to the locals.
There is a very heavy Asian community present there, which after living for nearly 30 years in Bognor was quite an adjustment. But adjust is what I did and life was good.
I experienced my first interacial relationship with a sweet Maylasian woman, and built up some great friendships with various people of differing cultures and backgrounds.
The one thing that I didn't like with the Asian community though, was that they weren't encouraged to integrate with the rest of society. The local council insisted on setting them up in their own estates and this tended to create mini colonies which was a shame.
Working in Slough also brought me together with my new Irish family!
Glenn & Ruth Courtney made the trip over from Ireland to forge a career in the UK, and if I felt I was experiencing a culture shock then god knows what they made of it!
Glenn, Marty (another Irish lad), and myself were the only members of management originating from Europe who worked at TK Maxx, so we quite naturally bonded and became the three amigos!
We remain close to this day, even though Glenn & Ruth have since returned 'home' to Ireland, and an open invitation is always there for me to visit, as after all I am now classed as family to them.
After a while with TK Maxx, I got head-hunted by BHS to work for them which was rewarding to start with as it meant training in Bath. I fell in love with the place and vowed to return one day...which I did a few years later as I'll write about in a future blog.
But my heart wasn't in retail anymore, so I took a position with an accounts/payroll company called Nash-Williams and suddenly I was enjoying life to the max. I did take a pay cut, but my quality of life rapidly improved, as I was now working Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 and the world was my oyster at weekends...well Berkshire & Bucks was anyway!
Shortly after moving into the second lovely apartment in Sussex Place, I was given an ultimatum by my new employers - either become redundant or take a transfer to their head office in Bournemouth as they were closing the local office due to my manager's imminent retirement.
Well, a guy like me with no commitments, ties or attachements, who could place his entire belongings and possessions into the back of a Peugeot 106, didn't have much of a choice... Bournemouth here I come and a lovely new home by the sea was awaiting me!
But before that I had to break the news to my Irish friends in Slough that I would be leaving...
Nomadic Steve
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Fear Can Hold You Prisoner, Hope Can Set You Free
"Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies..."
Lying on a hotel bed in the middle of Dorset's New Forest, I watched for the first time the movie 'The Shawshank Redemption'.
I had just made my break, aged 29, and felt unbelievably isolated and unsure of my future. Watching this film inspired me to remain true to my convictions and beliefs, and offered me much hope and faith with regards to my future journey...wherever that may lead me.
So, how did I end up here?
I was born and bred in Bognor Regis, and apart from brief spells living in neighbouring villages Pagham and Hunston, this was where I would spend the first three decades of my relative uneventful life.
Home was a semi-detached house in the North Bersted area, a house which my parents and kid sister still live in today - in fact I was even born in this house, as my Dad personally delivered me...that explains a lot!
I enjoyed a happy childhood, mainly mixing with lads a few years older than myself due to the level of football that I played, and got through comprehensive school (or community college as it's now called) fairly unscathed. I can't say that I particularly enjoyed school, but I left with a decent bunch of academic qualifications, and I represented the school at football until I got banned for refusing to turn out for the rugby team - I called their bluff and walked away, but still went on to feature for the district and county teams at youth level, courtesy of the Sunday side I played for.
After leaving school at 16 I went straight out to work, spending four years at Boots the Chemist in a variety of roles, and a further eight years managing the music shop Our Price. I eventually resigned from this post as the big corporate machine had taken over, only interested in commercial sales and not a real love of music, so I took a job working at Chichester Golf Club in Hunston.
Once I left home at 19 right up to when I made my great escape, I lived with a girl who I now fondly call my "pshyco ex"...because she was! I know that there are two sides to every story, but believe me this lady was extremely controlling and manipulative as my good friends The Shaws can no doubt testify!
I could tell numerous stories surrounding this period in my life, but I prefer to keep a dignified silence on events, especially that I have now moved on with my life.
But to think I spent ten years with this girl was a terrible waste of my life...especially when you consider that you can serve a prison sentence for muder for less than this! And I seriously reckon I could've got away with muder too, if I pleaded mitigating circumstances! Lol.
After a short spell in a leased bungalow in nearby Pagham, we set up home in a purpose built one bedroomed ground floor flat with a small garden, and I was tied down for the first and only time with a mortgage. We never married, which was probably just as well as things turned out.
I honestly loved this woman,despite all the grief that came with it, and I really worked hard to try to make the relationship work, but alas..."how terrible is wisdom, when it brings no profit to the wise."
She eventually realised that she loved me too...but that was only after I left, by which time it was too late as I was long gone!
What ultimately led me to leave were the constant lies and abuse (mental, verbal & physical), but despite all of this I did live to tell the tale (just!), and I refused to let it make me bitter and twisted about women and about relationships - quite the opposite actually, as it made me really appreciate the good ones when they later came into my life.
The really ironic thing is however, that she always blamed me for holding her back and restricting her prospects...despite the fact that I was supporting her financially by allowing her not to work due to her developing mental condition - as my mate Glenn would say, " she had issues!".
Yet since we split up, I moved around various places and travelled to some extent, whilst she's remained in Bognor...how ironic is that!
So this is why as I approached my 30th birthday I found myself in that hotel in the New Forest, and a new chapter in my life was just about to begin, as was my spiritual journey to find a home.
Why the New Forest?
Read the upcoming The Concrete Jungle to find out.
Nomadic Steve
Lying on a hotel bed in the middle of Dorset's New Forest, I watched for the first time the movie 'The Shawshank Redemption'.
I had just made my break, aged 29, and felt unbelievably isolated and unsure of my future. Watching this film inspired me to remain true to my convictions and beliefs, and offered me much hope and faith with regards to my future journey...wherever that may lead me.
So, how did I end up here?
I was born and bred in Bognor Regis, and apart from brief spells living in neighbouring villages Pagham and Hunston, this was where I would spend the first three decades of my relative uneventful life.
Home was a semi-detached house in the North Bersted area, a house which my parents and kid sister still live in today - in fact I was even born in this house, as my Dad personally delivered me...that explains a lot!
I enjoyed a happy childhood, mainly mixing with lads a few years older than myself due to the level of football that I played, and got through comprehensive school (or community college as it's now called) fairly unscathed. I can't say that I particularly enjoyed school, but I left with a decent bunch of academic qualifications, and I represented the school at football until I got banned for refusing to turn out for the rugby team - I called their bluff and walked away, but still went on to feature for the district and county teams at youth level, courtesy of the Sunday side I played for.
After leaving school at 16 I went straight out to work, spending four years at Boots the Chemist in a variety of roles, and a further eight years managing the music shop Our Price. I eventually resigned from this post as the big corporate machine had taken over, only interested in commercial sales and not a real love of music, so I took a job working at Chichester Golf Club in Hunston.
Once I left home at 19 right up to when I made my great escape, I lived with a girl who I now fondly call my "pshyco ex"...because she was! I know that there are two sides to every story, but believe me this lady was extremely controlling and manipulative as my good friends The Shaws can no doubt testify!
I could tell numerous stories surrounding this period in my life, but I prefer to keep a dignified silence on events, especially that I have now moved on with my life.
But to think I spent ten years with this girl was a terrible waste of my life...especially when you consider that you can serve a prison sentence for muder for less than this! And I seriously reckon I could've got away with muder too, if I pleaded mitigating circumstances! Lol.
After a short spell in a leased bungalow in nearby Pagham, we set up home in a purpose built one bedroomed ground floor flat with a small garden, and I was tied down for the first and only time with a mortgage. We never married, which was probably just as well as things turned out.
I honestly loved this woman,despite all the grief that came with it, and I really worked hard to try to make the relationship work, but alas..."how terrible is wisdom, when it brings no profit to the wise."
She eventually realised that she loved me too...but that was only after I left, by which time it was too late as I was long gone!
What ultimately led me to leave were the constant lies and abuse (mental, verbal & physical), but despite all of this I did live to tell the tale (just!), and I refused to let it make me bitter and twisted about women and about relationships - quite the opposite actually, as it made me really appreciate the good ones when they later came into my life.
The really ironic thing is however, that she always blamed me for holding her back and restricting her prospects...despite the fact that I was supporting her financially by allowing her not to work due to her developing mental condition - as my mate Glenn would say, " she had issues!".
Yet since we split up, I moved around various places and travelled to some extent, whilst she's remained in Bognor...how ironic is that!
So this is why as I approached my 30th birthday I found myself in that hotel in the New Forest, and a new chapter in my life was just about to begin, as was my spiritual journey to find a home.
Why the New Forest?
Read the upcoming The Concrete Jungle to find out.
Nomadic Steve
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Appetiser!
Over the next six weeks I shall be blogging away with my journey so far...
"One fine day, the chaos subsides
Bleeds into awareness, and a lifetime of suprise..."
I'll be describing the various 'homes' that I dwelt in, and the trials & tribulations experienced whilst residing in Bognor Regis, Southampton, Slough & Langley, Ireland (various surrogate families!), Bournemouth, Bath, Bristol, Cheltenham, New Zealand Part 1 (luxury hotels), New Zealand Part 2 (campervan!), Crowthorne, Bognor Regis (the return!), and finally my current location Chichester.
I'll knock out the first blog tomorrow...entitled: Fear Can Hold You Prisoner, Hope Can Set You Free.
Thereafter, I intend to do two blogs per week, and the proposed timetable is as follows:-
w/c 22 Nov - The Concrete Jungle ~ When Irish Eyes Are Smiling!
w/c 29 Nov - Home By The Sea ~ Following My Heart To Bath
w/c 06 Dec - Sadly Broke ~ Montpelier Exchange
w/c 13 Dec - A Dream Realised ~ A Kiwi At Heart
w/c 20 Dec - Time To Bite The Bullet! ~ Back To Where It All Started
w/c 27 Dec - ...And Where To Now?
A New Year then begins...and with it a New Journey!
Watch this space.
Nomadic Steve
"One fine day, the chaos subsides
Bleeds into awareness, and a lifetime of suprise..."
I'll be describing the various 'homes' that I dwelt in, and the trials & tribulations experienced whilst residing in Bognor Regis, Southampton, Slough & Langley, Ireland (various surrogate families!), Bournemouth, Bath, Bristol, Cheltenham, New Zealand Part 1 (luxury hotels), New Zealand Part 2 (campervan!), Crowthorne, Bognor Regis (the return!), and finally my current location Chichester.
I'll knock out the first blog tomorrow...entitled: Fear Can Hold You Prisoner, Hope Can Set You Free.
Thereafter, I intend to do two blogs per week, and the proposed timetable is as follows:-
w/c 22 Nov - The Concrete Jungle ~ When Irish Eyes Are Smiling!
w/c 29 Nov - Home By The Sea ~ Following My Heart To Bath
w/c 06 Dec - Sadly Broke ~ Montpelier Exchange
w/c 13 Dec - A Dream Realised ~ A Kiwi At Heart
w/c 20 Dec - Time To Bite The Bullet! ~ Back To Where It All Started
w/c 27 Dec - ...And Where To Now?
A New Year then begins...and with it a New Journey!
Watch this space.
Nomadic Steve
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
An Introduction
Welcome to my blog...A Spiritual Journey To Find A Home.
For the past 14 years I have been living a rather nomadic lifestyle, displaying the occassional hedonistic tendencies, whilst in the persuit of a place that I could call 'home'.
My travels have taking me all around the southern areas of England, and I have spent quite a lot of time in Southern Ireland and New Zealand. Everywhere that I have 'laid down my hat, has been a home', but unfortunately these dwellings haven't ever lasted longer than a few years at a time.
Over the coming months I shall endeavour to describe my travels in my journey to find a home, and share some of the reasons why certain places just weren't meant to be. Usually, this may have comprised a romantic liason, but as 'gentlemen don't kiss & tell' I shall remain quite discreet over any of these issues. Lol.
A good friend has monickered me as 'The Goodness Guru', but I think that's too kind.
I prefer to go by the name of 'Nomadic Steve', and I hope that by writing this blog I shall provide some wit, humour and wisdom, as well as some self-theraputic process for myself.
Until next time soon...
Take care,
Nomadic Steve
For the past 14 years I have been living a rather nomadic lifestyle, displaying the occassional hedonistic tendencies, whilst in the persuit of a place that I could call 'home'.
My travels have taking me all around the southern areas of England, and I have spent quite a lot of time in Southern Ireland and New Zealand. Everywhere that I have 'laid down my hat, has been a home', but unfortunately these dwellings haven't ever lasted longer than a few years at a time.
Over the coming months I shall endeavour to describe my travels in my journey to find a home, and share some of the reasons why certain places just weren't meant to be. Usually, this may have comprised a romantic liason, but as 'gentlemen don't kiss & tell' I shall remain quite discreet over any of these issues. Lol.
A good friend has monickered me as 'The Goodness Guru', but I think that's too kind.
I prefer to go by the name of 'Nomadic Steve', and I hope that by writing this blog I shall provide some wit, humour and wisdom, as well as some self-theraputic process for myself.
Until next time soon...
Take care,
Nomadic Steve
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