The very first job I ever had was as a helper and DJ on a mobile roller skating rink in 1983. That lasted less than a year and was followed by a myriad of other jobs. I was a potter, a taxi driver, a truck driver, a picker in a cold store, a gardener and a milkman. I also spent a significant part of each year just travelling and enjoying myself. Financially, I rarely had any money other than that required to get from one week to the next and frequently lived at home with my parents where I stayed on a ‘will work for food basis’.
At nearly 30 years of age I was faced with unemployment, a mortgage and an expanding family. After picking winkles on the beach for cash and working as a creel fisherman's helper I signed up to join the RAF following a chance encounter in Inverness. Over the next fifteen years I was generally happy with service life and got to live in some fantastic places; however, as I got towards the end of my time the frustrations with the sheer waste of resources and the level of bureaucracy in the military grew. When I vented these frustrations I noticed my civilian friends found it hard to believe some of the stories I told them about military life and my military friends found it hard to believe my stories of home life. With this in mind and little else to occupy my days, I decided to keep a diary for one year. This is the result. It’s a mix of life in the RAF, life at home with three teenagers and all my mixed up weird and often humorous thoughts and views on anything and everything. What my friends call ‘the world according to Mikey’.
At nearly 30 years of age I was faced with unemployment, a mortgage and an expanding family. After picking winkles on the beach for cash and working as a creel fisherman's helper I signed up to join the RAF following a chance encounter in Inverness. Over the next fifteen years I was generally happy with service life and got to live in some fantastic places; however, as I got towards the end of my time the frustrations with the sheer waste of resources and the level of bureaucracy in the military grew. When I vented these frustrations I noticed my civilian friends found it hard to believe some of the stories I told them about military life and my military friends found it hard to believe my stories of home life. With this in mind and little else to occupy my days, I decided to keep a diary for one year. This is the result. It’s a mix of life in the RAF, life at home with three teenagers and all my mixed up weird and often humorous thoughts and views on anything and everything. What my friends call ‘the world according to Mikey’.
