I will never be moving back to England.

That was pretty much the synopsis last weeks holiday to the UK. England itself isnt really that bad. What I mean is that there are things I will always remember fondly, the beautiful countryside for example, the setting for the village in which I grew up, and my family and friends which I miss.

What i had forogt, was how fucking miserable people are. Yes they are friendly enough, in the right places, but I noticed after spending some time away that people seem to walk arround staring at the ground, affraid to make eye contact, affraid to express themselves, seemingly scared to feel.

My epiphany came when I was having coffee in Liverpool whilst waiting for my brother to finish his uni lecture. The coffee shop (one of those god awfull chain shops - which by the way made me wonder:are there no independant shops left in the UK?). Anyway I was having coffee on the 1st floor, overlooking the busiest street in Liverpool, and all I saw was miserable faces awkuadly positioned on hunched bodies, aimlessly trawling the streets form shop to shop, trying to find that piece of them which is so clearly missing, atleast clear to an outsider like me. It was like more or less any scene out of dawn of the dead, except they werent after other peoples souls, they were essentailly looking for their own.

You only have to look at the TV in the UK, show after show telling people how they should dress, what they should eat, where they should holliday, how they can best mutilate their bodies through surgery to maximise their potential, and in one show a certain female presenter shows the mindless zombies how they should shit, and the proceeds to sift through and analyse it.

Are people really that fucking stupid that they have to have every descision they are ever likely to make decided and dictated by a box in their lounge. It actually pains me to say that in many, if not most cases I would have to say yes.

My own parents, who for the record are inteligent, educated and wealthy (I say this only to prove that this condition is not only restricted to the uninteligent and poor) spent my first and only night with them in 6 months watching TV, I mean heaven forbid we actually have a conversation, and find out what each of us have been doing for the past 1/2 a year or our plans for the future. They then failed to understand why I chose not to spend any more time with them, favouring instead the comany of friends, who's idea of catching up with an old friend (or relative) consisted or more than a 4 hour TV soap marathon.

I actually believe that Television is a disease, much like a cancer attacking from within, attacking the ability and fredom to think, speak and express yourself, and being an ex employee of the biggest TV company in the world I feel I am more qualified and informed than most to make that diagnosis. I also believe that this cancer has taken its hold on the nation, and in the most parts its teminal.

My only wish for society is that they turn off, or better still throw out their televisions, breath some fresh air, get some fucking excersise, and open all your senses to the world, the actual world, not the scripted version. When they do they'll realise what a beautiful place it is, and then they'll torture themselves for all those lost hours, days though more probably years wasted sitting infront of that brain clensing device, when they could have been out there living, feeling, exeriencing things for them selves. Living.

When that day comes I will consider moving back to the UK. To the Great Brittain it once was.

Sadly that day will never come.

When you havent written for so long it hard to know where to begin. I could tell you about my new appartment, getting to know my flat mate, the good people I've met whom i hope will become friends, my trips to Paris and Portugal, the seamingly endless beaches, my inadequate tan, the drunken nights, weekends in Tarifa, one of my best friends visit, the Madrilenian invasion, the loniless and shopping binges that followed, the ferria and fiestas, or or my ever evolving job.

But I won't. I can't.....

The best way to describe this site it by tracing it back to its roots. Essentially its the bastard offspring of my first blog www.insidethegaygate.com, which served as my creative outlet and platform to vent for the past 3 years, and whilst it was some what questionable at times there were, hidden deep in my archives, many posts of which I was very proud, and more for which I should be deeply ashamed. But the ability to conceed was never one of my strong points.

At the time of death, just short of 470,000 individuals had a glimpse of my life, if only for a second, and I thank you for time, friendship, love and hate. And for the comments which have ranged from the supporting, objectionable, profound and obscene, to the somewhat absurd.

The highlight of my blogging journey to date was discovering that this here site had been banned in China and a number of Middle Eastern countries(18months ago aprox). Exactly why the Chinese government (and the others) chose to censor me, a 20 something nobody with nothing but dreams, angst and a couple key pieces from Dolce to his name (a ban which to my knowledge has since been lifted), I will never know.

At the time all I could think was that my message, thats assuming I even had one (which I didnt to the best of my knowledge, (although I did give that site my drunkest years, to date) was lost in translation. Looking back, the reason is now clear to me, they weren't censoring me for what ever I may or may not have been saying or sluring they were purely protecting them selves from anything and everything, just to be on the safe side, as Joseph Heller says inhis novel Catch 22

"There was no telling what people might find out once they felt free to ask whatever questions they wanted to."

What that episode did teach me, which I feel is a valuable lesson we all should learn is that no matter how much of a progressive, accepting and connected society we think we live in, there is still much work to be done. And I think deep down all it takes for the world to move forward, rather that back is a little empathy, a smile, and a chat with some one from a differnt world from your own, for its only when we do that we realise that we are not all that different afterall, and it is only when we waken to this realisation that the real and drastic alterations can be made to our ever changing global tappestry.

Now, of course I'm not ready to thrown down my gloves, but my old, faithful site had reached the end of its often colourful but more often dark journey. What I thought before, whilst valid at the time has changed. I have changed, I’ve grown up, or at least I trying to. I no longer believe that salvation comes in a Harvey Nichols carrier bag, or that my dentists can whiten away my sins.

I do still believe however, that we have to make our own destiny. That if we find ourselves deeply unhappy, we must make great strides to challenge that.

And so now I find my self three months into a new life in the southern most part of Spain, taking one step at a time, trying to carve a new path in the stone. Trying to find a place to call home. Just trying, because at the end of the day that’s all we can do.