Last night was a weird one and a half. My good friend Mel and her fella Naill were in town to visit her parents for dinner/stress/arguments etc. Later in the evening I popped over to save them on the way to our local pub. Which by the way I hadn't been to for at least six years I think. That pub has a lot of history for both Mel and me, we grew up in this sleepy little town and sometimes the only refuge from it was the pub. Your local is an extension of your living room but with a cigarette machine to replace the irritating family.

When I got to Mels' place her Mother was showing Niall old family photographs of her to him, the kiddy ones were cute but you know how those teenage years can be embarrassing. But it made me think of how everyones' parents just love the opportunity to humiliate them in front of other people. I mean what is this revenge for the pain of childbirth? But hell I thought it was funny. But it was like a old times; I'd go to Mels' place on the way to the pub and by the time we'd turned the corner from her house, Mel would grumble about her parents and then I'd grumble about my parents until we got to the pub. It made me giggle, some things just don't change.

Anyway, along with a couple of other peeps went ended up at the pub. Hilda, the original landlady has long since gone and now it's run by some other nameless people. But this place has changed a lot, and for the better I might add. The beer garden at the back has those nice wooden tables and benches. It has flowers and even a small lawn making it a really nice place to chill and catch up with old friends. But it was a bit strange seeing people you kinda knew at high school and how they've changed, or hadn't as was the case with most. What was even more strange was seeing their younger Brothers and Sisters there who are all now in their mid twenties. Man it made me feel old. And there were some other pub characters who I guess when the pub was sold were bundled with the furniture and fixtures.

But I think about all those evenings I spent there with all of my friends. Christmas and New Years Eve spent in the pub, Sundays afternoons. I remember some pretty funny things like two friends, Adrian and Karen having a competition to see who could drink more pints of Snakebite in ten seconds and the resultant jet stream of purple puke from Karen. I laughed so hard I hyperventilated.

But it was kind of reassuring that some aspects of you hometown hadn't changed, I meant the pub not Karen puking.

You know I've finally found the incentive to learn German.

Which brings me to this (not really but hey). I saw a job posting today in Design Week for a Graphic Designer position in Brussels. Now for you Yanks out there; Brussels is in the relatively small and peaceful nation of Belgium. Now I know that makes it ripe for invasion but the Germans did state their case for that some sixty years ago and it didn't turn out to well for them either. I'm just sayin'...

Anyway, the point being is that I've only been back in dear ole' Blighty for a couple of months and I'm already thinking about leaving again. And I'm not the only one. More Brits are leaving the UK than ever before, an estimated 300,000 people a year. Is the quality of life here so bad..? No of course not, this is a great country.

So why? I think it's pretty simple really. There's an increasing amount of Brits who don't like the company of other Brits. We're supposed to be some kind of civilized and sophisticated nation. Oh the irony. Have you been to our towns and cities on a Saturday night..? The epidemic of binge-drinkin'-fightin'-loutishness (and that's just the girls) is unstoppable. I think it says a lot about us Brits, there's this aggressive disposition simmering away. It's like some Jeckle & Hyde thing. And we don't like the foreigners do we? Ugh, the casual racism, the Empire rhetoric. And always harping about the one and only bloody World Cup we won back in 19-whogivesashit-66. But it's not that simple. I like to think it's a step towards a borderless world. People should spend at least some of their life abroad. I like being in Europe, and it's the best thing for Britain. But it brings out the predictable negatives in people and shows how dumb as fuck they are. But that goes for most countries, the grass ain't any greener.

I think the other day sums it up for why would consider leaving again. This may not sound like much to you but see it from my perspective. I was in the universal shit hole known as Crewe (the grim North West) trying to find a couple of Cycle shops on a particular street. It was one of those pre-war terraced red brick neighbourhoods with those scenic council estates in the background. So I'm waiting to cross this road junction when this shitty ford Sierra pulls up behind the car that was waiting to turn onto the main street. There was ample space for me to keep walking with out getting in the way but no, the fucker hits the pedal to shut the gap, and he waited until I was half way across so I had to jump back. Why? Because I'm a person of colour (thanks God for that) and the people in the car consisted of two big fat skinheads; bare bodies to show off their tattoos. And three skanky, syphilitic, scum-bag whores in the back. Believe me, I could feel their aggression. I avoided looking at them as that would have been enough to get the shit kicked out of me for sure. But I kept thinking all that day that's it's scum like that made my experience growing up here so bad. It's people like them who I wanted to get away from by going abroad.

I mean sure, I went abroad to advance my career, broaden my horizons and see some of the world while I had the opportunity etc. But the deciding factor that made me do it was represented so well by those people sitting in that car looking the way they look, thinking the things they think, being who they are and hating me for what (they think) I am.

So I'm back in the UK after living and working (kinda) abroad for the past five years. I did a year in Helsinki and I came back a couple of months ago from a four year stint in New York. I would have stayed there if it were not for a shitty economy/911/almost getting my greencard but not/a Creative Director who gave me the chop and I wish would die of CJD/and needing a new job with a visa to match. But there will be more wistful tales in future blogs.

Alas, the Universe has its' plans for me; none of which agree with. You know, I think the Universe is a woman-one of those butch angry types with way too much facial hair, you know like the ones in those women's' groups at University who hate men?

Anyway, I find myself back in Cheshire of all places, in my hometown which as lovely and picture postcardy as it is, is a small town with small town people with small town attitudes. And by the way, I fucking hate the North of England and it is grim up North. So why stay here I here you cry? Well, until I get a job back in London where I used to live before I went abroad, I'm stuck here for the duration... grumble grumble.

Ah well, at least it'll have some humour value.