My name is James and I don’t live by conventional rules. Right now, as I write this, I’m sipping coffee from a mug which has the word ‘tea’ written on it. I don’t own any ‘days of the week’ socks, but if I did, I would be more than comfortable wearing the ‘Friday’ socks on a Wednesday (I never wear odd socks though – that’s just anarchy). If there was a plate of biscuits on the table and only one Jammie Dodger left and everyone else was being too polite to take it, I would swoop in and eat it with scant regard for social niceties. That’s just how I roll (although conversely, saying things like “that’s just how I roll” is very much out of character).
I’m originally from Wales. That’s where I grew up. In a small town almost equidistant between Cardiff and Swansea, which is probably the most noteworthy thing there is to say about that particular town.
I did, for a small number of years, live in Paris.
This blog would be significantly more interesting if I still lived in Paris.
But now I live in Reading. People who don’t live in Reading sometimes think that Reading must be a rubbish place to live. But it’s ok really. If Reading were to have a tagline it could be something like:
“Reading – it’s not as bad as you think.”
I’m happily married to someone who really could do better, but if you don’t tell her then I won’t either.
I’m a qualified teacher. Sometimes I use that qualification to help me pay the bills.
In real life I look a bit like the person in this photo: