suggzy

Right, I’m starting a blog. I realise this is not a groundbreaking move on my part. Amongst the many people who can string a few sentences together and have an amusing anecdote to tell, it’s practically becoming compulsory. Short of inventing the internet all over again, it’s a bit tricky to look new. Oh well. Just joining the ranks of those who feel we end to inflict the contents of our heads upon the rest of the world.

Why? Well, actually it wasn’t my idea, it was SWK’s, put to me on holiday recently. Whilst I am by nature a fairly light-hearted fellow, I do suffer with a deluge of early middle-aged grumpiness, and irritability with what I *have* to do, set against what I would *rather* do. I feel better when I am doing things I enjoy, and often that’s being creative. Not *properly* creative; y’know, making stuff, or painting, or drawing, or whatever, as I’m irredeemably shit at stuff like that. I mean other other things, like cooking, or taking photos (I am untrained in either pursuit, I just take an instinctive approach but now and again the output pleases me – although I am best avoided if I cook something I don’t think’s good enough, for I have all the charm of a chastened toddler when that happens). And writing. Never really tried it very much, but I enjoy a nice word or three. Theory goes some writing about my life will make me happier, and potentially bring a smile to the rest of you. Well, let’s not rule it out, eh? SWK’s theory, I think, is that my getting a creative outlet might make the rest of her life bearable.

That’s why, sort of. ‘What’ is a more important question. People write about any manner of things. Some people know a *lot* about a thing that they like and write a lot about it and that’s great. I know a bit, a tiny bit, about a whole bunch of things. Except Science, that’s a bit of a blind spot with me. Oh, and History, I’m a duffer at that, as well. Anyway, my nature means I’ll probably hop about a bit. Got to start somewhere though, so let’s have a go at travel.

For I love travel. Everything about it. I’ve done a fair bit and plan to do as much more as I can before I become to withered to do it any more. SWK had the “maybe start a blog to stop being such a grumpy bastard?” conversation with me recently, in Montenegro. The 43rd country I have visited so far. Later that evening, as she lay, snoring like a trucker three times her size, I finished the wine and ran a finger down my mental index of travel experiences. There are quite few. And often they are memorable to me because they are experiences that sprung from the ordinary and the everyday. Getting around, shopping, coping with being ill, that sort of stuff. Quite a lot of silly things have happened. I count a number of them as amusing. I wrote a list. I reckon there are twenty to thirty blog posts to come. Some serious, probably, but most of them silly, speaking to my rather offbeat path through life. During these posts you’ll relive with me sleeping on a park bench. Cuddling a shark. Nearly choking to death. Being hated by everyone on an island. Failing to eat bear, but then eating bear. Getting cross about coffee. Having gout, and combining it the cobblestones. And drinking all the red wine I can find.

I might find other things to write about. Dunno, we’ll see. Whole thing might peter out in no time at all, which would probably be a relief for all of us. As I say, you have to start somewhere.

So let’s start with a trip to Milton Keynes, where I met The Worst Man In The World.