I grew up mainly in Hemel Hempstead, a proper, ordinary new town near London, with football on the telly at the weekend and the radio crackling away. By my early twenties, I just had to get out, so off I went travelling. France first, then Spain, a bit of Morocco, Turkey for ages, Greek islands. Sleeping rough on beaches, cheap wine flowing, meeting all sorts of people who were happy to help you on your way. Those months changed me more than anything back home ever had. Then I came back after,  my mum had those heart attacks. She was only 57 when she went. That hit me hard, really knocked the wind out of me.

After that, I bounced around jobs. Clerk in a dusty old stationery mill, underlining orders with a red pen all day. Then a summer season down in Newquay working with a bunch of crazy, entertaining characters, washing dishes in a big hotel, dodging the chaos in the kitchen while after work The Doors blasted out from beaten-up old record player and we played pool until the early hours. Football never left me, though. Watford through good times and bad, later reporting on matches from the press box, scribbling notes in all weathers. Those days taught me the game’s about heartbeauty more than anything else. Retirement along eventually, I couldn’t wait. Now my time is my own,life’s slower,playing backgammon, doing the school run for the stepgrandkids, which is a joy, and a privilege to be part of their lives. Strong coffee first thing, watching the light change outside. Simple stuff, but it feels right.

Putting This Is How It Is together was something I had to do. Not trying to preach or sell anyone a big idea. Just writing down and sharing how it was and is for me. The travels, the grief, that shift inside when faith clicked, why with its war and politics the world to me is dysfunctional and a shadow of what it could be. I decided not to vote in general elections anymore for reasons I explain. The world’s a rough place, always has been, but I’m fortunate to live in a land of milk and honey and my faith, a decent match, a tune that lifts you, or just sitting quiet as the day ends give me peace and contentment. This is my second book, after one about shouting from the press box. If bits of it feel familiar, or make you nod, that’s enough for me. Nice you’ve dropped in.