It all started in early October 2003. A friend of mine, Bertie Bollocks, rang me up and said,

'Hey! I've got tickets for the finals of the Rugby World Cup final in Australia! Do you fancy coming to the land of Oz for ten days?'

I said, sure, why not? After all I hadn't had a holiday in nearly three years. I put the phone down. And then I started thinking. Which is unusual for me.

I'd just sold my house, was inbetween jobs, paid off all my bills, just split up with my girlfriend and had absolutely no commitments for the first time since I was a student. I was utterly free.

Three days later I landed in Tasmania, Australia, with a rucksack and little else. I didn't know where I was going or what I was doing, I just got on the first plane out and went. That night, in a sort of panic, I got horribly drunk in Hobart, Tasmania's capital city, and woke up in a park under a tree.

I got up and started walking. I haven't stopped since.

This blog is a mixture of things that have happened to me since I embarked on my odyssey, the extraordinary things I have learned, the peoples I have met and the continuing, everyday drama of living on the road. I do not know when, or if, I will return home to Wales, but be welcome to travel with me and see the world through my lens, for as long as the road beckons before me.

Welcome.

yechydda,