We're buying our home. Specifically, the house we now call home, here in Adisham.
At the same time, the world appears to be on the verge of another world war. I hope that isn't the case, and that Trump's war with Iran doesn't drag us into a wider conflict. So, we try to focus on the simple things. We're buying our home from our landlords, Guy and Fiona. They're doing everything they can to help us with the purchase. We're happy.
All I have to do is stay healthy, work hard and try to enjoy the work that I do. That's it. Stay healthy, work hard and pay off our mortgage as quickly as possible.
Holidays will have to wait. Instead, I will occasionally take time away from work, but holidays will be spent at home, with the occasional trip to watch the odd race at Brands Hatch. There are a few car meets and shows that we will go to as well, but generally, my life will consist of doing everything I can to pay down the loan as quickly as possible.
As for the wars that are raging around the world, I will stay away from news sources. I think it's better not to know, at least for my own sanity. A war with Iran will have a huge effect on our livelihoods. Inflation will rise, fuel costs will rise, and the cost of some foods and products will become prohibitively expensive. I'm not going to panic. Buying our home is the right thing to do. Putting all of my energy into paying down the house finance as soon as possible is now my priority. The main reason is that I don't want to work into retirement.
]]>6th of April 2017
Yes, but about what exactly? I’m not sure it matters. I just need to get it out. Writing here is cathartic. It helps me make sense of the world I’m living in. Putting thoughts down creates space. Balance. Order.
That inner voice of mine is loud and persistent. A noisy little bastard. Sometimes I hate the things it dangles in front of me to worry about.
]]>20th of March 2017
I’m changing. In some ways, I feel like I’m turning back into the person I was when I was three or four years old. I know that sounds odd, but it feels true. Lately, memories from that time have been resurfacing.
We lived in Tilgate, in Crawley. My dad was still around. We were in a quiet cul-de-sac, not far from the forest. I walked to my first school. There were other children to play with in the street. I remember feeling happy.
]]>17 February 2017
Social media. Should I stay or should I go?
There’s a darkness hanging around me at the moment. The black dog of depression is howling somewhere off in the distance. I try to ignore it, but it’s persistent. One of its closest allies seems to be social media.
I know, I know. I’ve been here before. You’ve heard me talk about this stuff already. My struggles with depression. My desire for anonymity. The contradictions. The rambling. It all comes back to the same feeling: being adrift, rudderless, waiting for a gentle breeze of normality to push me towards a more fulfilling life.
]]>3rd of February 2017
Kicking my minimalism journey into overdrive in 2017 will be a challenge.
As I mentioned in the previous post, the year has started bumpily. We’re already into February, and I’m a couple of grand behind where I’d hoped to be financially.
To help claw some of that back, and to keep pushing the minimalist reset, I’ve decided to do something fairly drastic. I’m going to find one thousand of our possessions and sell them.
I’m confident they’re there.
]]>18th of January 2017
A bumpy start to the year.
2017 began with me running around the Kentish countryside in the middle of the night, dropping off bundles of newspapers to newsagents and petrol stations. Seven days a week. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
It wasn’t.
]]>4 December 2016
2017 is almost here. Time to put the plan into action.
I’ll keep this short and to the point. The list of things I will and won’t be doing next year is long, but the intent is simple.
At the top of the list is reducing our spending. That feeds directly into the next priority: clearing our debt. Carrying it around feels like a physical weight. It slows everything down. It has to go.
]]>30 November 2016
Over the past few days, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.
Returning to my meditation practice has helped me straighten a few things out and see how I need to move forward as a human being.
2017 needs to be very different. I need to move toward a state of being free of debt, lighter, calmer, and unconstrained.
]]>26 November 2016
Back in the early 90s, Queen Elizabeth II marked the 40th anniversary of her accession by describing the year as her annus horribilis.
She’d been dragged well outside her comfort zone by a run of personal disasters.
I know exactly how she felt.
]]>Written in November 2016, during a period when several long-running assumptions about work, family, and stability were being forcibly renegotiated.
It’s almost that time of year again.
No, not Christmas. My birthday looms once more. In a matter of weeks, I’ll be 48. Time is dragging me, kicking and screaming, towards the big five-oh.
As usual, that has me thinking about where I fit into the world and into the lives of the people around me. I’ve written before about my struggles with health, diet, work, and the plans I keep making and failing to follow through on. So what’s different now?
]]>Written at a moment when responsibility felt heavier than certainty (October 2016).
October arrived faster than expected. It always does. It is also the month my son was born, which probably explains why it feels louder than most.
This week, we were waiting for the result of his 11+ test. It felt as though the next move for our family hung on that outcome.
If he passed comfortably, grammar school would be an option. If he scraped through, we would need to think carefully. He is bright, curious, and thoughtful, but not naturally suited to environments that prize pressure and conformity above all else. Commitment, yes. Compliance, less so.
]]>Written at the point where calm had returned, and movement felt possible again.
The end of the summer holidays was coming into view, and it felt like time to move again.
The start of summer had been dominated by stress. We had moved house, routines disappeared, and I let diet and exercise slide. That was a conscious choice. I needed a break from self-surveillance and pressure, and I wanted to be present with my family while things settled.
]]>Written at a moment when privacy began to feel like something worth defending (2016).
My life on public display has been shrinking. Deliberately.
This year had already been a difficult one, and the summer forced me to slow down enough to notice what was no longer working. I spent time thinking about my own life and my family's, and how easily attention gets scattered. Real connection had started to feel rare. Digital connection was everywhere.
]]>Written in August, 2016
I am a happier man these days, though it did not feel that way at the time.
The months leading up to this were hard. We were told we would have to leave our home of nearly ten years. Then my car failed. What followed was a stretch of relentless logistics: finding somewhere new to live, replacing the car, and trying to keep our son's life feeling normal as everything shifted beneath us.
Just as things began to stabilise, my mother was taken seriously ill. It turned out to be a false alarm, but it arrived at exactly the wrong moment. Stress has a way of stacking itself.
]]>Written during a period of deliberate withdrawal, when attention felt overstretched and clarity hard-won.
I was using social media too much. Enough to be shaping my mood, my attention, and my sense of ease in ways I did not like. So I decided to treat it as an experiment rather than a confession.
The first experiment was simple. A month away. No feeds, no constant checking, no reflexive sharing. Apps removed. Sites blocked. Not as a punishment, but as a way of seeing what remained when the noise stopped.
]]>Written in 2016
I woke up with ghosts in my head. Friends from the past. Family who are gone.
It made me look at the clock.
If I am lucky, I am exactly halfway through my life.
My son thinks I will make it to a hundred. I think ninety-four is enough.
]]>Written in 2016
The light in the room changes when there is less in it. It feels different.
William Morris said, "to have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful."
Most of us fail this test.
I look around. I see the "shit."
]]>Written in February 2016
The coach stopped me at the edge of the pitch.
He said my son was a problem. Out of thirty boys, Karta was the one they were close to letting go.
I asked why nobody had spoken to me before. He dodged the question.
My stomach turned. It was a warning.
I rely on instinct now. I learned the hard way. At twenty-five, I stopped listening to my gut, and I fell apart.
I lost years to that breakdown. My memory is still full of holes. I let the wrong people in. I made bad choices.
It took a good friend to keep me grounded. Later, my wife taught me to trust myself again.
That trust is ringing alarm bells now.
It was hard to find a club. Most want players who are already good. This place promised to teach him.
He has gone every week since September. He has never played a match.
I watch him from the sidelines. I do not see a troublemaker. I see a boy trying to learn.
My head says to be patient. It says to see if things improve.
My gut says to take him and leave.
I think I know which voice to listen to.
Written in 2016
This is going to be harder than I thought!
I cut the cords on projects that were taking more than they gave. They were noise. I wanted silence.
I thought empty time would stay empty. I imagined long mornings with books and old films. I was wrong. A vacuum always fills.
I wake before the sun now. I make breakfast. I pack lunches. I walk my son to school.
Then comes the cleaning. The laundry. The maintenance of a home.
Between the chores, I do a little work for my wife’s company. It fits in the cracks of the day.
The afternoon is a blur of school gates, homework, and cooking. By the time the house is quiet again, I am drained.
This is common work. It is what people do every day. But it is also the most important work I have ever done.
We have less money than we used to. We are happier.
The hardest part is protecting this new rhythm. The world still tries to get in.
People ask for small favours. They ask for time I no longer want to give. I am learning to be unavailable.
I am not hiding in a cave. I am just closing the door.
I am taking it one day at a time.
So there you have it, 2016 has been okay so far. I'm not looking too far ahead; that would be foolish. Just for now, I'm taking it one day at a time.
Written when love felt clearer than certainty (2015).
Let me start by saying how much I love you. What follows are a few words that I hope will guide you.
Live a full life. Be kind.
Chase what you want, even if it scares you. Fear is just part of the cost. Go anyway.
Keep your circle small. Trust those few people with everything you have. Strong bonds are built on truth, not politeness.
Speak well of others. It costs nothing to be generous.
Be loyal. Be gentle. Being hard is easy; being soft takes courage.
Laugh. Smile at strangers. Learn to sit in silence without reaching for a phone.
Look after your body. Move it every day. Health is freedom.
Find work that matters to you. If you can, make it matter to others, too.
It is alright to be weak. It is alright to cry.
Failure is not the end. It is just data. When doubt comes, let it pass like bad weather.
Give more than you take. If you lend money, expect nothing back.
Listen properly. Don't just wait for your turn to speak.
Be on time. It shows respect.
Be honest. Apologise first when you are wrong.
Treat the people you love better than you treat guests.
Marry for love. Hold hands when you can.
Be ambitious, but humble. Leave room for others to win.
Swim in rivers and the sea. Watch the sunrise now and then. Be spontaneous.
Laugh at yourself. Learn a few jokes. Play music if it calls to you.
Above all, know this. I love you. I am proud of you. I am always with you.
All my love,
Dad
Some things you write for the future end up teaching you how to live in the present.
The first week of 2026 has been interesting. Not just personally, but for the whole world.
I didn't make any resolutions. I quietly decided to make a few changes to my lifestyle that will steer my Type-2 diabetes towards remission, and help me to improve my health generally. A happy side effect of these changes is that I will lose weight and gain strength. All good. I have mentally prepared myself for the challenges that will arise, but these are easy to deal with. It really is a matter of reframing things in your mind.
]]>Written in 2015 during the first week of stepping away, when habit proved louder than intention.
The last eight days were something of a revelation.
On my birthday, I decided to step away from almost all personal social media for a year. I knew how that would sound. I had made similar declarations before, usually framed as resolutions that dissolved quietly and without consequence. This time felt different, largely because I was tired of hearing myself repeat them.
]]>Written in 2015.
Written at a moment when narrowing my life felt less like loss and more like relief.
Today is my forty-seventh birthday.
For months, I had been taking a long and sometimes uncomfortable look at my life. Becoming a stay-at-home parent had shifted my understanding of what mattered and what did not. It forced a reckoning with how I was spending my time, my energy, and my attention.
What came into focus was simple, even if acting on it was not.
]]>Written in 2015.
A new film had just been released, based on a book I had not read.
That was normal for me. I love films, and for years I had been content to let adaptations stand in for the books they were based on. Watching was easier. Faster. Convenient.
]]>Written in 2015.
It has been nearly a month since I last sat down to write.
The summer took over, in the best possible way. I spent as much time as I could with my son, making the most of what felt like the last summer before childhood began to change. Museums, hills, mines, the sea, and lengthy gaming sessions. It mattered.
]]>Written in 2015.
Opinionated people are those who announce their views repeatedly, without being asked.
An opinion, offered once, is usually harmless. When it becomes habitual, it turns into noise.
]]>Written in 2014.
‘Where do you want to meet?’ That seems to be the standard question when I arrange to see someone I have not seen for a while.
I do not mind choosing the place. What tends to follow, though, is that I end up organising the whole thing. Time, date, and even how the other person is getting there.
]]>Written in 2014.
I have spent much of my life caring too much about what other people think. About whether I am offending someone. About whether I am being judged. Over time, that habit became exhausting, and worse than that, it made me cautious in places where I should have been clearer.
This is the point where something shifted.
]]>Written in 2018.
It is a strange thing, that feeling of being snowed under.
What strikes me now is how much of that pressure is self-imposed. I am doing a lot. I have started writing again for a motorsport website. I do not get paid for it, but it puts my work in front of a large audience.
Alongside that, I take on bits of design work. I volunteer as a webmaster and club secretary for a motorcycle club. I also volunteer with my son’s football team. I am competent at all of it, but none of it pays.
That is the tension. If I take a full-time job, I lose the time I need to write. Writing is what I enjoy most. Writing for free feels like a way in, a way to improve, a way to open doors. What appeals to me most is that it can be done from anywhere.
I know I will have to work something out.
Looking back, this reads less like confusion and more like the early stages of choosing a direction.
Written in 2018.
We will soon be taking a long overdue holiday.
We are not leaving the country. Nothing extravagant. Just getting away from it all for a week.
My laptop died a few weeks back. I replaced it with a desktop and a dual monitor setup, which means it will not be coming on holiday with us. That feels like a good thing.
I have decided to leave everything behind except my smartphone. It will be on Do Not Disturb for the duration, whenever it gets switched on at all. I have also bought a book and intend to start it and finish it while we are away.
I truly intend to be off-grid for the first time in a long, long time.
Stepping away like this no longer feels like an experiment, just a necessary reset.