Today I’m mostly drinking coffee and getting stared at in my permissive pub car park. The thing these guys don’t seem to understand is that I have permission to be here. They don’t but I get stared at none the less. “He should be at home” I hear them exclaim loudly. Loudly enough for me to obviously hear, hoping I’d pack my shit up and run away “home”.

These last few weeks have been like a weird sort of few weeks. My emotions have been here, there and everywhere all at the same time. Christmas isn't my favourite time of the year, it's always been overshadowed by drunken arguments, money stresses, work etc, just like anyone else's I guess, but I find things harder than most people. The last few years I've worked Christmas day as I was a chef. A bloody good one I might add, not to blow smoke up my own arse... It's not really as simple as that and the bad shit goes back a long way but I don't want to get into the nitty gritty details about the whys etc. Just understand me when I say I find it difficult.

For reasons out of my control, I managed to catch the Covid over the weekend. I've done my best to protect myself, I've had the jabs and worn the masks and got high on the fumes from the copious amounts of hand sanitiser. I've not been in a pub for two years, avoided the cinema and stayed away from concerts. But I still managed to get it. Most of you already know that I have complicated health problems, chronic pancreatitis, PTSD, coronary heart disease etc, so I tried my best to not catch the plague. But alas, it wanted to infect me so I kinda feel like the unwanted chosen one. Sunday I did a rapid test that showed a faint little line next to the "T" insinuating that the lurgy was present. I booked a PCR at a drive through centre that I knew I could fit my lanky van in and proceeded to make myself gag, heave, cry, snot and produce some very strange noises I never knew I was even capable of making! Test handed in I left to go and hide somewhere so I could feel sorry for myself in peace and wait impatiently for the inevitable.

The first time you realise that you can only call on your pals and family to decimate their bathroom so many times, is a weird realisation. Your kind of in limbo, stuck between a smelly, sweaty rock and grimy, dirty hard place. You need to clean yourself but you’re well aware that calling on the next person on your shrinking list will make you sweat even more.

Yesterday I was left rather embarrassed in the high street Chickaroo’s fried chicken shop.I’ll set the scene:

When I moved into my van, I swore on my guinea pigs life that I wouldn’t have a junk drawer. You know that drawer that’s full of shit that you can’t find a forever home for. The old phone charger leads, headphones that only one side works. A couple of those old Bluetooth hands free headsets that hook over your ear “hello, can I take your order please” and copious amounts of dead batteries that may work in one of the copious amounts of tv remotes you’ve collected, absolutely unaware of what even happened to the TVs they were for! Thousands of pens that still have ink but point blank refuse to work but one day, they may just spring into life…

When I was at secondary school, I guess it was the first or second year (I don’t know what years they are in new money) it was that time of the day for our biology lesson. “I wonder what experiments we’ll do today?” I pondered.I probably didn’t ponder that at all. I more than likely thought “I hope we’re gonna burst some cows eyeballs again” Anyway, back then, to try and stop all the lads pissing about in class, we were sat boy girl boy girl and so on. I was sat next to a rather cute girl who’s name I shall withhold to save embarrassment as I had a mahoosif crush on this girl. She hated me though. Couldn’t fucking stand me! Once when I asked her out she said “If I could just have your eyes in a glass that’d be pukka” Now I know I have nice eyes but come on...I digress. One of the other lads suddenly shouts “Yes! We’re gonna talk about shagging” and pointed to blackboard, where in massive white chalk letters were the words “SEX EDUCATION”The girls all started sweating and blushing and the lads? Well we immediately started drawing penis like shapes on our school books… I probably started blushing too as that’s what I do.

My daughter Shannon has recently got into BBQ and bought a pretty tasty used Traeger from a friend of mine near Newcastle. Now me being a bit of a BBQ god, well a self titled Pit Master to be precise, offered to go and pick it up for her. 

I feel like I’m in way over my head with blogging, and I love it! It’s a whole new world for me. It’s inspiring, marvellous, mysterious, daunting all at the same time. When I sit back and think about that first ever post I did back in December on Vanlife UK, I would never have thought I’d be where I am today! I mean I’m no one special (I have special tendencies, granted) but yet my words have inspired and connected so many people I feel truly humbled.