Why start blogging, now after all this time?

No reason really.

I was going to just leave it at that but it's a bit boring, innit?

A good friend recently pointed out to me that I tend to a comment on my own facebook posts a lot. I suppose this means that no one feels they are worthy of interaction or I am mental and talk to myself. I tend to think it's a combination of both. A blog is perfect for me then. I can ramble absolute shite and to be honest I don't really care if people read it or not....it's more for me than anything.

I love writing and always have. I remember being 7 and writing a story that would rival Lord of the Rings. In fact it was better as it was a gripping tale that only took 3 minutes to read as it consisted of about 30 words. You need to clear your fuckin diary for a month for Lord of the Rings. Watch the films instead. Anyway I remember in this story that the main protagonist was called Gemmarus and was based on a lass I fancied at the time. Looking back, she liked to play football and had short hair so she is probably a professional carpet licker nowadays. I am not a homophobe though, I think the gays are alright. It's the really camp people who annoy me as they all have the same accent no matter where they are from. Same as British Gypsys. They usually all sound Irish.

Speaking of Gypsies (not the Irish white sounding ones but the actual Romany travellers) I used to live in a village called Burn in North Yorkshire. Burn had about 140 houses and no shop. It did have a railway bridge and a canal but what made Burn famous was the airfield. It was an RAF base during World War 2 and had a network of catacombed tunnels hidden amongst the trees and load of haybails for making dens and jumping off. I spent some great days there with an amazing friend called Matthew Jakeman. Matt was unfortunately taken too early and truly was one of the best people I ever knew. RIP mate. My my I could tell you some stories about that boy and our adventures together but I may get arrested whilst he is beyond the long arm of the law.

Anyway, back to the gypo's. These were all of Romany descent and had a permanent camp of white caravans. I tell you this to dispell any illusion that they have nice colourful painted and decorated ones. They don't. They have piss stained white ones. And they don't tell fortunes. Apart from 'I see in your future a missing lawnmower'

Three things I remember about these travellers (they never 'travelled' so I never understood why people called them this at school) is that firstly, they were all called Smith. About 10 went to our school, all called Smith but claimed not to be related. I bet they were called Smith yeah... Secondly, they used to come to the park and kids as young as 10 would be smoking. I shit you not here. As young as 10. Smoking. One even took a shit in front of us on the bouncy tarmac near the swings. Kecks down, arse oot, shit done. Incredible. Thirdly is a story about a boy called David.

I was mates with David, he was a geeky kid who had a PC with Football Manager and The Sims on it. To be honest, I used to be mates with him based on this and the fact he was one of 4 lads in Burn village of similar age. Me, Matt, him and some bellend called Chris who was like BMX champion of the world (in his own mind) Oh yeah and that weird family of scruffs that I slowly rose from beneath the living room window in a scream mask with a huge kitchen knife and the youngest said 'CALL THE POLICE' and they all screamed like little bitches.

I was a canny lad back in the day like :S

David also won tickets in a Sky competition to go see Britney Spears at the MEN arena and took me. At 12 years old that was clunge heaven trust me. Back to the story anyway. I used to sleep over at David's based on his PC games and play them till like 5am when he was asleep by 9pm. One time we woke to find his shed had been broken in to and his lawnmower nicked. The gypsys always did this for the petrol in them. Scallywags. What was funny though is that there was a ladder found leaning against David's bedroom window, where we had been sleeping. Didn't faze me but David was shook up by this. I kept saying to him everynight to sleep well and remember that the Gypsys would be watching him sleep, Absolutely terrified the lad, bless him.

Actually I also remember a Gypsy getting punched outside the 'Burn Barn Dance' annual event in one of the airport hangers. He got up and ran off without his coat, some blokes went in it and there was a grand in notes. So that's more than 3 things, I lied.

Coming back to what was supposed to be the theme for the article, until I started thinking abut Gypsies and going off on a tangent - I have written for a football blog - the rollercoaster of misery that being a Newcastle United fan is - for a couple of years now and always like to spark a debate. I have also written blogs for my own business...which I will not be promoting here as I plan on swearing a lot and being really unprofessional.

Soapy tit wank.

See?

Funny that was the first thing to come to mind.

I have always enjoyed writing and always cringed years later when reading it back and thought, what the fuck was I on about? Why did I feel it necessary to waste someone's time? Well if you have got this far, that's time you will never get back. So.....unlucky. I do find it helps me remember things that I had previously never really thought about since they happened. Like gypsys looking through young boys windows for example.

As I get older and have a bit more of a conscience, I look back and remember what a little shit I really was and thinking about it, throughout my childhood and going to Spain when I was 16, I can tell a few stories. If you are happy with who you are today then it's good to remember your past and what shaped you. I made a lot of mistakes and will share some of them with you and also share things that I believe in or comment on shit that I don't. Like religion.

Knowing me it'll just be a blog moaning about the injustices of the world with the odd poor attempt at humour that only I will laugh at. And you know what they say about people who laugh at their own jokes don't you! Haha!

Whoops!