I thought it wouldbe an idea to fill you in on some of my background, family history and what actually pushed me into thoughts of travelling.

My family comes from two completely different directions.

On my Dads side I have a history of coal miners in my blood, solid tall and honest men. On my Mums side I have a history of travellers, explorers and the like.

My Granddad (Jim Ingram if you are interested) wrote several books, he travelled the world despite having partial blindness and a lame leg. He was even in Poland when the second world war began. Even with his disabilities, along with no cash he managed to travel the world, from the far reaches of Norway to the scorching heat of the Sahara Desert he travelled the world.

My Mother travelled Europe with no cash and just hitch hiking to get her from place to place, just from that she managed to see a large portion of the world.

And then I realised one day, I really want to travel. I need to get out of this country and see new things, find new places and meet new people. The oppressive dullness of office life began to consume me and I started to actually think about why I was stuck in this life of drudgery. At the time I had worked for 4 years in the same job, and had achieved nothing.

And yet my ancestors, even the most recent ones had the same problems and more, but they managed to travel to the far reaches of the Earth.

So last September, on the eve of my 23rd birthday, I packed up my bags, jumped into my flatmates BMW and we headed off to Dover where we travelled 4500 miles in the short space for two weeks. We saw a huge amount, from the rivers of Venice to the catacombs of Barcelona we travelled to some of the most cultural and historic, not to mention some of the most bloody famous cities of the world.

It was unfortunately short lived. The two week time frame left us with little time to explore the countries and the cities we visited. The mountains we passed compelled us to climb them, and yet we drove past heavy hearted. The snow laden slopes, even at the tail end of summer, left a lust in my mouth for skiing once more.

And so I returned to England with pure lust in my heart for the travelling life. My short stint, an overview if you will, of the treasures Europe held, left me with a desire to revisit the continent and further at the soonest of opportunities.

My greatest hope of escape from day in day out office labour, never changing and always dogged with depression is my ability to write will lead me into a job of travel writing, or even journalism. Of course the problem I face is that to get into that industry you have to travel in the first place!