Sorry Its Been So Late, I Have Been Busy Packing My Life.

Well, I'm here. My new residence is Canada and it has been one hell of a trip to get here so lets rewind a little bit and try to explain how my head turned into a big pile of grey matter coloured blamanche.

The real start of my journey started Friday, 13th August 2010. Not a good day for a life changing start but one all the same. On that fateful day I gave up the one place that I have loved since leaving the Navy, my work. I gave up all the wonderful people who I got along with so well. I gave up a way of life that I seemed to like more and more as I got to know destinations, the roads, hard to reach areas and my skills got better. I gave up the banter with Steve Attwood, Graham Dyer, Mark Stanley, Mark Pickford, Stevie Graham, Heather, Geraldine Lovell, Danny Carter, Dave Bond ect ect..the list goes on, but I gave it up. I even gave up Tonkette, my beloved, beautiful big orange lump of metal, plastic and glass, I gave her up. Anything that was close or important to me, I gave it up.

I tell you now, that was harder than I ever expected.

The following week was just panic, stress, anxiety, questioning what was I doing? Am I doing the right thing? Am I stepping so far out of my comfort zone that my tiny little head wont be able to handle the pressure? All of the above was answer 'YES YES YES.....HELP'. I had to say goodbye to my mum, my dad, my friends at The Volunteers Arms, the leaving do on the Saturday but most of all, my kid brother. That absolutely tore me apart. He was strong for me but it has been a very long time since I cuddled him and cried like a baby.

The Day Of The Move.

Everything had gone. The packers had been the Friday before and taken everything, Scott & Debbie had been up the night before and everything was ready. We all got up early and prepared for the taxi and it was like a monsoon outside. The taxi arrived and the driver, my dad and myself rushed the bags packed with our entire last 17 years through the torrent and into a battered 10 seat Ford Transit coach. I locked the door and we set off. Unless you have done this, I cannot explain how it feels. Everything I explained earlier about letting go of your work, friends, family and the final and out for the count, knock out blow, your home. It actually takes the breath out of your lungs.

The trip to Manchester International Flood zone Airport was pretty uneventful. A few text to a few of the closer people, arrive at Terminal 1 departures, life in bags off the bus, kiss and hug to mum & dad and that's it. It was done. We were on our way and there is no stopping now. We paid slightly more to get premium seats and through check in quicker which was proving a very good idea. Went through Duty Free, Yvonne wanted to do some shopping, I was just an anxious ball of nervousness but needed some food. Went to Burger King (11 am, yuk) and watched that woman putting that cat in a wheelie bin and then decided that I needed to calm my nerves and had the last taste of Strongbow in the form of a pint. Then, through to departures, couple more texts to say cheerio to people and then on the plane. Set off 40 Min's late but no problem really.

Flight was good. Ate well, watched Shrek 4 , drank two miniature bottles of Whiskey and two miniature bottles of white wine with the food and then watched 'Alice In Wonderland' (which was absolute shite I might add) arrived in Toronto on time, went through customs, got signed in as Canadians, walked through o the arrivals lounge to find.........nobody we knew. The website said that we were to arrive at 9pm but we got there at 4. What an anti-climax.

I have written enough for one evening. Tomorrow I will update with jobs, schools, supermarkets and mosquito's.

Love you all

Mark x

Is it just the UK or is there a hidden, global single roadside shoe kill problem?

As I travel up and down the lengh of this wonderful, multi cultural nation, I see this odd and at times, un-explainable sight. Like the strange UFO light in the night sky. The un-earthly sights of crop circles and the mystery that surrounds Roswell and Area57. I talk of that weirdest and so far un-tapped world of the roadside shoe.

We pass them every day but we are oblivious to them. They lie there, I think waiting in an odd and marcarbe way, for their owners who might suddenly realise that they are no longer with them. How do they get there? How long have they been there? Does the owner know that they have gone? All these questions need answering but so far I have not found a website that can do this for me so maybe, I thought, I could make an appeal. A bit like LiveAid or WaterAid but called ShoeAid.

I could get B and C list ex celebs like Sting, Darius Denesh, Sonia, Howard Jones ect to go on stage with a collection of the poor souls that are left abandoned by the roadside and help the plight of the un-known misery of the roadside footwear.

Laying, fruitlessly on the side of the A42 just north of Nunneaton is a single flip flop. How the hell did it get there? And on the M1 Northbound there is a workmans boot. Has the owner not realised that it has gone?

Come on Sting. Lets put this ShoeAid together and reunite the world with their shoes. Peace brother.

Mark. 

And The Reality Of All Came Home Today With A Very Hard Smack.

From day to day I am traveling. As in previous posts it all seems like it is happening to somebody else and then something happened today. It was awful and washed over me faster than walking into a lift where the previous occupant had left behind the smelliest fart in the world. My brother and my dad came to my house, watched a particully un-eventful grand prix, had a few beers and then went back to their own lives. As I watched my dad drive away with my little brother in the passengers seat of his dinosaur of a car I thought 'and that is the last time thatis going to happen'.

Today has been hard work. Very hard work. Not just because of the smelly fart or the dinosaur car but simply because I am now watching EVERYTHING and wondering 'is this the last time' and as that day arrives the possibility of 'is this the last time' is being answered with the word Yes.

Took me about 2 hours to calm down after the race but by god, did I need that outburst of emotion.

Right, back to the Mark you know.

How on earth did I mannage 41 years without a nasal hair trimmer ect ect ect......