"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
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