My Story

Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road.


So unfortunately it does rain here. Nothing too heaving, just a bit of light drizzle but I would of preferred my first experience of Barcelonian rain not to of happened whilst i was undergoing the very European task of hanging your freshly washed closed out the window.

Today was The National Day of Catalunya. Haven’t seen this amount of red and yellow since Day 1 of a Lords Ashes Test.

Today was The National Day of Catalunya. Haven’t seen this amount of red and yellow since Day 1 of a Lords Ashes Test.

Day 1

Yesterday I went out in search of a Spanish sim card. Being able to get your phone online is obviously the most important first step when starting a new life abroad these days. I blame the Tinder temptation. The problem was I stupidly decided to head out during the time when all the shops are shut for their afternoon break. There must shops open in the more touristy areas I thought to myself, so I went on an aimless walk taking any street that look heavy with people. During my walk I came across a number of phone shops, all of which were also shut. I look at my phone dejectedly and admitted defeat. As I looked around in an attempt to work out where I was, towering over me was La Sagrada Familia. Anyone who knows me will be aware this has forever been my favourite building. Granted I live not too far away from it, and following the paths of tourists will probably lead you to touristy places like this, but I still found it funny that this was where I ended up. As if I was drawn to it. Hello old friend.

It begins

I’ve been in Barcelona for only ten minutes and I’ve already been asked directions twice. I’m must be moulding in well already.


At 6:40am on 10th September 2014, I will be taking a step which will fulfil two life long dreams:

  • To board a plane with nothing but a lot of clothes and a one way ticket
  • To live in Barcelona 

My next adventure begins.

This video, which was used to announce the reuniting of my favourite band Copeland, was released a few days after I returned from travelling. It was the greatest possible news to return home to and something that quelled the inevitable post travelling blues. But as the release of the new album was so far off at that point, the excitement ended up fading away to a point where I pretty much forgot all about it.

A few days ago I stumble upon the video again and the excitement returned. Although the release of Ixora is still weeks aways, the number of times I’ve re-watched this video, and listened to the single on Spotify since, would suggest that over these coming weeks, my excitement of having my favourite band back together will be doing the complete opposite of fading.

Round II

Yesterday we played another round of our infamous garden cricket. Instead of the usual rule of whoever gets dismissed in the fewest balls has to do a shot, we thought this time we’d up the ante.

  • Out first ball = do a shot
  • Play the ball out the garden = do a shot
  • Wide or wild delivery = do a shot
  • Dropped catch = do a shot
  • Clumsy fielding = do a shot
  • Anything that the mob decides warrants a shot = do a shot 

Ability counts for nothing when you’re faced with 6 close fielders on a field no wider than a few metres and a wicket that’s baited with textured paving slabs. Just like in our youth, we played break free right up unto sundown, when the game finally ended as the last ball disappeared far into one of the surrounding gardens. The empty bottles of Limoncello and Cuervo that remained should be inducted into the Cricketing Hall of Fame as a remainder of how much fun this game can produce.


On Friday I went to London for the first time in about two months. After spending most of my post travelling time back in my hometown, I’ve become accustom to serene life that this part of the country offers. As I got off the train at Victoria, I was confronted with throngs of people waiting impatiently to get through the station’s barriers. It then took me twice as long as it should of to walk the relatively short distance out of the station due to me having to deviate my path every other step in order to avoid colliding into the back of someone aimlessly wondering around the station concourse. When I finally did reach the exit, a din made up of congestion, construction and confusion filled the air. Weaving my way through the endless crowds of tourists plaguing the paths towards Buckingham Palace, I exhaled a prolonged sigh. It’s blood good to be back, were the words that followed.