A rebel without a clue.

Born to two working class parents from Rawmarsh, Rotherham, South Yorkshire in Bishops Stortford on the second of February 1972. My father was a company chauffeur and my mother a housewife and dental technician. I remember nothing of my first two years in Saffron Walden. We moved to Easington, near Whitby where my father bought his own fish and chip shop and my mother had my sister. We had a dog called Sam. He got run over. I played behind the garage, pebble dashed prefab, and got ill. This might have been a first migraine or a fuller episode of the sensor and visual disturbance I used to have regularly. I remember being sick. I didn't eat any dirt, but I did dig deep. My father built a bed with planks, we had bunks in my room. Bright blue curtains. I used to put turquoise felt from a blanket up my nose. our toilet was near the front of the house on the ground floor.I used to think the rust on the screws holding the wooden seat was dried on excrement. I had a teddy bear that had a...

Glancing at the routes away from here and destinations I have trouble pronouncing. Dra gon ya Por to rož Po reč (this could be the Porridge I heard a couple mention in Piran) Krun či či Opcinà Limski kanal Eating out last night our host in Galeb - Salvo - reminds me of Enoch Powell ... but served lovely soup. It seems to me that Japanese tourists are stereotypical. We arrive at a shocking shocking bus station in Poreč and there is a reason to take a photo? Getaway! Maybe they are seeing something worthy of megabits and mega-pixels? On the campsite trail. I come upon my first naturist camp. 3km from Poreč. Rotel tours - www.rotel.de - arrived alongside me in Rovinj. With great advice I arrive at Porton Biondi How many days shall I stay here. I have to chill out tomorrow and stuff. Then perhaps move on by third night. It needs to be value for money. Maybe move the tent to a less bumpy plot or get a better under roll. Actually I feel better already. The facilities ar...