Blog Entry: 1 So it begins
So, the question is, do I go for the plug that has two USB C sockets and charges at 10w each….. or the one with that has one USB C that can do 30w and a regular USB port? I’m guessing that regular USB is called USB-A. I have never asked the question but more to the point, why do I really need 30w charging opposed to 10w anyway? This is another nugget of information I should really Google. Yes, this is my life. Choosing a USB charger has become a ‘thing’ I do on a Saturday, at Staples, in Cochrane, Alberta, Canada. Of all places. And Yes, that’s Staples the stationary store in case anyone was confused. This has become a store I use enough that I recognise half the staff when I go in there. This does worry me. But lets back the fuck up, as this is a little far down the line to be our start point.
My name is Daniel. I was born in the late 80s and that’s comforting, if going by one of the last songs I think Calvin Harris actually sung on, at least he still has love for me, even if no one else does. I’m English from birth and until 1 year ago I never lived more than 20 miles from Harlow. Harlow is where the hospital I was born in is, and in case you don’t know where Harlow is (and you felt compelled to Google it, so in some way you could relate to the story better) don’t! Harlow is a shithole, full of drug dealers, chavs, badly modified 90s cars and by the weird social acceptance we live by, I can say that as I was born there. The only ‘celebrity thing’ about Harlow is that Rod Stewart lives nearby. Yes, you read that right, nearby meaning he doesn’t actually live there. So, the closest thing to celebrity is that a famous person lives near to Harlow ……enough said.
I mostly grew up in a little town call Great Dunmow. What’s great about it, I’m not sure, so don’t ask. It used to be picturesque and quaint, but now it’s more of a living quarter for people who work in London and want to brag that they live in the countryside but can’t afford to live in Surrey. Or those that work at Stansted airport. The town used to have little shops that were locally owned and had been there so long they were mentioned in the Doomsday book. We had a restaurant called The Starr. This was overpriced and proclaimed to be exclusive because Rod Stewart ate there once. Yep, that guy again. I worked their washing dishes once on the hottest day of that year and that was enough realised that wasn't the career for me. There was a department store that was not part of some conglobate chain, but that's gone now, the majority of the upper levels are flats (apartments for the North Americans reading) and the basement was a 'club' if you can really call it that. It was called Lennons (nicknamed 'loners' as usually full of drunk single men) but was great for getting served underage. Now Dunmow has got 10 estate agents, 15 Asian, Indian or Italian takeaways, and more charity shops than you can shake a second-hand walking stick at. A little depressing really.
But this was home. From the age of four and a half, to thirty-three and 7 months. I went to my infant school there, which I believe had been a school since the late 1800s, but it is now a housing estate. I went to my junior school there, which they are talking of knocking down for houses and I went to my senior school there, which they planned to knock down for houses, but they need to build a new one first. There were plans to build a new high school on one of the new estates namely the Easton Lodge development, but thankfully, a few locals managed to convince the very greedy council to stop them from building on Easton Lodge and the surrounding land. Easton Lodge was once a proclaimed manor that Queen Elizabeth visited. But it is now just known for a fair once a year and a garden they open to the public on selective days in the summer. It’s not just a garden, they also serve tea and cake as this is a requirement for any place old people visit in England.
Since 18, I had been saying I wanted to move to Canada, to which most would respond with “that’s nice” but I was dead fucking serious! Now for the purpose of getting through the part from 'born' to age 'Thirty-three and seven months', let’s just say that’s a lot of shit happened, and that’s for another time, if this blogging shit works out, you decide if your interested. I can assure you as with most people it was not smooth. I came out of it all as a qualified mechanic, grade 1 jazz pianist and qualified commercial pilot amongst many other achievements. One being suspended an extortionate amount from school, surprised I talked my way out enough to actually finish. The big takeaway, and most important, I had got to this age and I'm not a virgin living at my parents spending all my money on fake Russian girls that claim they want to marry me and Pornhub. Instead, I am married to a small, sometimes angry, girl whom I couldn’t and wouldn’t replace for anyone and am genuinely happy about that.
So here you join me, April 13th, 2021. It’s 08:17 at my Mum and Dads house with four 1x4x2m wood constructed boxes and one specifically designed picture frame crate that I have built to hopefully protect all our stuff in shipping and is soon to be loaded onto a lorry and taken to Heathrow airport. The shipping got more complex as initially planned, it was going to arrive one day after we did. But thanks to the recent flu outbreak and all that fuckery, now it has to be held from shipping until we are cleared customs, immigration, a three-day quarantine in Toronto and two weeks further quarantine in SAIT student accommodation. Which is now referred to as the 'SAIT penitentiary'. This is due to their police style nature, no fresh-air breaks, appalling food and the fact the floors were bare fucking concrete. Oh, and everything they supplied was bolted to the fucking wall but we will come back to this in a later episode. I also had my mother to reassure, whom is constantly on the edge of crying and still trying to process the whole thing. She is trying to process that her son is going 4,375miles (7,041Km) to the other side of the world, to permanently live, and to make it worse, she can’t visit straight away because of the restrictions, yes that flu shit again.
