There is a question that needs to be asked before starting any blog.

What is it’s purpose?

If you can bear with me I will start from the beginning.

For the majority of my childhood and early adult years I lived in a tiny Suffolk village called Peasenhall. As the crow flies you’re talking 15 minutes drive to the nearest small town (Framlingham) and just under an hour to the nearest metropolis (Ipswich he says with a grimace…). One word summed up my surroundings


Don’t get me wrong it is a beautiful part of the world in a Hobbiton esque way but unfortunately it shares other characteristics with that particular corner of Middle Earth. Most pointedly, a sleepiness suited to the majority of Peasnhall’s residents (people over 70 and my parents) but not really for me. “We have to get out of the shire” whispers Frodo to Merry- I hear you on that one buddy.

Sixth Form kicks in together with UCAS applications. University Prospectuses quickly become the rope on which my dreams of escape hang upon. However I have always been a relatively cautious individual – never run before you can walk. Applications were sent to the likes of Lincoln, Winchester and Plymouth. Hardly comparable to the Leed’s, Birmingham’s and (whisper it) London’s of the World but a definite step in the right direction.

My application to Lincoln is accepted and the first day of term fast approaches. With not a few arguments with the mother over such trivial matters as healthy eating, locking doors and alcohol abuse I begin to truly understand that I’m breaking out. No more reliance on parents for lifts to pubs. Fancy a Dominoes? Well just pick up the phone – they’re just down the road.

The day soon arrives and my optimism is seriously tempered once the car is packed – what the fuck am I doing? As I’m sure at least some of you can attest to, the journey to University is a rollercoaster of emotions. Fear. Excitement. Trepidation. They combine to make a thoroughly unpleasant yet exhilarating mix – to this day I have never been so aware of everything around me. I arrive at my apartment – the interior of which resembles a prison cell, quickly setting my already fragile mother into tears. It should be noted that my father showed little to no emotion God bless him – and the first person I meet is an attractive, petite, blond girl clearly as nervous as I am. “Where have you come from?” I ask. “Kesgrave, near Ipswich” she replies. And that was it – from that moment on I slipped in to University life, living away from home and independence with not a twinge of homesickness. A new and improved version of me was born.

I quickly adapted to a lifestyle of Carling, chasing tail and essays on British Social Realism (in that order). Bar one or two particularly brutal hangovers I was having the time of my life. But even at the end of first year I begin to feel something uncomfortably familiar from my years in Suffolk. Not isolation as such but a growing sense of boredom, routine and mundaneness. I wanted something bigger than Lincoln.

Anyway University went by in a flash as it does for all that attend and I quickly found myself back in Suffolk. Penniless and drained from what could be considered an excessive marathon of post University partying I found myself in a telesales role for the local paper. Disaster. I was surrounded by people in their mid to late twenties happy to sit in a rut. At the risk of sounding conceited I knew I was better than this and began plotting the escape plan.

Media degree in hand I begin to search for those elusive graduate roles. And how elusive those little bastards were. One thing became clear in this search for employment. The roles I wanted were almost exclusively based in London.


For those born and bred in our capital you may scoff at the awe I felt towards it but remember my upbringing. Equal to the likes of New York, Milan and Tokyo we weren’t talking about small fry here like the humble home of my former University. However do not mistake awe for fear – I knew I was meant for London one way or another.

A year passes. The recession is really making my job at the paper a bitch, I have a manager increasing targets on a daily basis and still no graduate roles on the horizon. My social life involves getting drunk in the same bars in Ipswich and collapsing on my team leaders floor dreaming of ruts. Like Frodo I seemed to be facing an insurmountable task.

But as Frodo had Samwise to help carry the weight of the ring I had University housemates.

One day in May I receive a message from one of said housemates – “contact this guy – possible graduate opportunity but be quick”. Spurred on by the possibility of a hot lead I whip an email over and things begin to happen very very quickly…

A quick maths and english test completed and I have the invite to attend an assessment day. The address – 125 Shaftesbury Avenue. This was it – I could feel it in my bones. I swotted up on the role as much as was humanly possible in the two days I had to prepare. I arrive at the office (8th floor and views of Big Ben – holy shit) and discover that 3 candidates have inexplicably dropped out. It’s just myself and another lady. I tried to remain calm and succeeded to a point. The day went by in a whirl of group exercises and interviews and I came out with only one thought in my mind. I would literally kill for this job.

I’m on the train back to Suffolk already missing the hustle of Cambridge Circus when my phone rings. The recruitment consultant tries a lame attempt at building some kind of suspense before telling me they’d offered me the role.

I’d climbed to the top of Mount Doom, thrown the ring into the fiery chasm below and found myself contemplating undoubtedly the biggest step in my life.

Within a month I’ve sold the car, packed in the sales job and had one last celebratory night out in the Swich. My Uni housemate who changed my life with one text message has offered me temporary refuge in Balham whilst the hunt for a home goes on and my new life in London begins.

And here at last we come to the purpose of this blog. Over the past 24 years I have continued to find out more about myself and what I want from life. For now and the foreseeable future that revolves around seizing the opportunities. Upon entering London I promised myself to make the very most of what it had to offer and for better or for worse this blog will chronicle these experiences.

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door. You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no telling where you might be swept off to.”