About

Life for a twenty-something Briton sucks. We are, I believe, one of the most unlucky generations of the modern age. It’s a big statement, but when you think about it not hugely hyperbolic.
Just to take my life to date as an example. I was brought up in a small cockle-picking Welsh village near Swansea by a Kiwi mum and a Welsh dad (cue sheep-inspired cliches). I was taught from a very young age that to be a success in life all you had to do was excel in school, be a good person and go where you interests and talents take you. It’s not exactly bad advice, even if it was potentially a little naive of my parents and teachers. After all, it was essentially the message given out by the highest authority in the land, the mighty British government, but let me tell you now… its a load of BS.

Sunset in my cockle-picking home-village, Penclawdd

My education was unusual in that it was distinctly average. It was also defined by testing, analysis and judgement of my academic abilities and personal attributes. It is frequently said that British children are the most tested of all those in Europe and I can definitely believe it. From the age of about six I can’t remember a year that wasn’t plagued by high levels of anxiety or trauma based around educational achievement and major examinations.
And I think it’s fair to say that despite the exceptional mediocrity of my primary and comprehensive school education, I excelled. I went on to get a solid degree in Politics and International Relations at the University of Manchester, which I graduated from just over a year ago, and went almost straight into an NCTJ Multimedia diploma with News Associates, which I also did very well at.
I have done, as our self-righteous national leader, David Cameron, would say, “the right thing”. I have worked hard to achieve exceptionally well in my educational life, I have built up work experience, both in my chosen career field as well as in the standard student, part-time environment. And yet, I already have debts of over £25,000 and counting (despite still being able to fit all of my worldly possessions into a Citroen C1), I am constantly being told I do not have enough experience to get paid to do the job I have essentially been doing for the last year and to cap it all I have had to move back into my parents house because I can no longer afford to pay rent, council tax or feed myself in Manchester. What was it all for? At this exact moment in time (nearly 16:00 on August 1st 2012), I can honestly say I have no idea. My degree seems to be a lame duck at best, an albatross around my neck at worst, and at 22 I am in exactly the same home environment as I was when I was 17 (only 25K poorer).
So, it seems that having done “the right thing” doesn’t quite cut it doesn’t it? I’m not sure what else the government, society and potential employers expect of me, maybe someone can enlighten me, because I am not above saying that I am beginning to become a wee bit lost, not to mention more than a little bit disenchanted with the entire system.
This may sound like a bit of a rant or sour grapes (and believe me I’m under no illusions that it is) but I’m sure I am by no means the only person in this seemingly floundering boat. And so, partly to pass the time in between a growing pile of job applications, and partly as a venting apparatus for my more frustrated moments, I begin this blog.

…Just as reassurance it is by no means only going to just be me ranting about how shite my life is at the moment, there will be light-hearted posts and comments as well, so stick with it and happy reading and hope you like it.