The Author's Backgound

             The desire to travel has always been within me. That was probably because I was born in a grey decaying urban town called Burnley – famous for crap football, hooliganism, racism (as encapsulated by a love for the BNP) and a proud history of witch hunting; for which evidence can be seen in their witch way logos emblazoned across their local bus services. Witch hunting is still a sport in Burnley, and if you don’t drink white lightning, fight dirty and fail in every subject at school, you may well be singled out and harassed.


       As a young reckless youth I didn’t adhere to any of the common interests, I wasn’t a fan of phone-box smashing or its counterpart - bus shelter destruction. I also was crap at tramp kicking, glue sniffing and I never did develop a taste for foot stomping happy hardcore (at least not until my university days when I met a scouser called john who’s best mate was gary, but that’s another story). So you may say I was somewhat of a non-conformist from an early age. Miraculously I did well at school and developed a peculiar interest in geography, politics and philosophy. While my neighbours were reading the sun and following Nick Griffin I was developing a keen interest in Michael Moore and Noam Chomsky. I also took to wearing a lot of black clothes and cutting all of my hair off except for a landing strip across the top reminiscent of Mr. T. If this wasn’t enough I proceeded to dye my already orange hair bright red. Needless to say this didn’t help me to make friends and blend in.


            I was a “Goth” although I never agreed with that terminology; I prefer the later coined expression “Mosher” or traditional “Head-Banger”-call it what you will – I went around not giving a shit about other people’s opinions, arguing that everything was too commercial - (especially music) and proclaiming communism the answer to all the world’s problems. Rage against the Machine’s Christmas number one mantra “Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me!” comes to mind – although I later realised that it’s a bit hypocritical to proclaim yourself a communist when you’re making millions and are signed to Sony’s record label – but I must digress, I’m going off on a tangent. The point is I used to be a rebel, a yang to the yin of my surroundings; I strove to be different, better, more aware of the world and understanding of different cultures in a town where ordering chicken madras is enough to make you a renegade.


          That was a while ago, in my teens. I’m twenty-five now, I listen to dance music and wear glasses and I can walk around posh shops like Selfridges without being followed by security guards. I also worked for four years as a debt collector harassing people daily for interest and charges, not exactly Che Guevara. The thing is it’s easy to be a teenage rebel, even a student rebel, but it’s hard to be a working revolutionary. That’s why all the hippies I meet are on the dole doing nothing, going nowhere, yet they’re still putting the world to rights. I graduated from university, I saved up some money and all in all I’m doing ok. It’s just that I don’t want to be doing ok, I want to be that rebellious teenager again, I want to be less comfortable, I want things to be less easy, and most of all - I don’t want to end up that sad guy at work who hates his job and nobody likes but who’s too damn scared to jack it all in and start again. That’s why in the words of Anthony Robbins, I want to take Nike’s advice – and just do it!