John Walker's Electronic House

So, 30 then.

It’s hard not to look at your life with more introspection than is normal when reaching a round number. What have I achieved? What haven’t I?

I think a part of being freelance is the curse of never feeling like you’re doing a proper job, no matter how much work you do. For about three weeks from September to October, I didn’t have a single day when I wasn’t working, and hence making money. But because work involves sitting at the same computer I use when relaxing, in the same room in which I sleep, in the same house in which I have fun, it some how never feels Proper. Oh, and that’s hardly helped when work is centered about playing. In those particular three weeks I was making some fairly decent money, but it still lacks a feeling of authenticity. I stress, I do think it’s authentic work. Perhaps it’s because I enjoy it. I’m sure you’re not meant to enjoy things that make you money.

So what’s been achieved. Well, in my three decades I’ve done the following (note: you might consider this to contain name-dropping, etc – but for me, I’m listing the fun stuff I’ve done):

Vet’s assistant
Every Saturday for a year, and for a full week at the end of that, I worked at a veterinary clinic, doing the mucky jobs the vet would rather not. For instance, cleaning up after a cat enema, or scrubbing down the post-mortem room after a large dog has been hacked to pieces. This reached interesting peaks when scrubbing up and assisting with a couple of cat spays, and helping deliver some puppies by caesarian.

Sales assistant
Like everyone else on the planet, summer holidays and older teenage Saturdays were spent working in a shop. For me it was GAME or EB, which perhaps foreshadowed the future I was unaware of.

Failing A Levels
A fairly remarkably crappy moment in my life was failing my A Levels. My group of friends at school were a pretty smart bunch, and most got As and Bs. I was lazy, bored of the subjects, and not really clever enough to do the same. And achieved some of the worst grades you’ll have ever seen: NNE. I find there are two types of people: people who got Ns, and people who didn’t know you could get Ns. It’s just shy of a U. This meant I stayed in Guildford a year longer, retaking THE EXACT SAME SUBJECTS (EED), while all my chums went off to uni. What fun that was. Certainly the worst time of my life.

Student of Film, Radio and TV Studies
I in no way regret the year and a half of the degree I started. I learned lots, and had a good time, despite living in Stoke on Trent. I do regret how I left, which was by suddenly announcing to my friends that I wasn’t coming back, and vanishing. But it meant I got to work at…

Talk Radio
Starting off as an unpaid phone turkey on the 1am to 6am show, I eventually got work in the daytimes, assistant producing on various shows, and at one point producing a full hour of a programme myself. This also involved doing all sorts of weird jobs, like producing an entire day of programming for “Star Wars Day” – moronic boss Kelvin McKensie’s idea to celebrate the, er, US release of Episode One. I met Bobba Fett though. There I became strangely used to seeing famous people everywhere I looked, and having really odd responsibilities like looking after then leader of the opposition, William Hague, or professional lunatic, Chris Eubank.

Chris Morris
While I admit I wasn’t actually him, from 1997 to around 2000, I was heavily involved in the worlds of Chris Morris, after starting Glebe’s Thrift Funnel (now dead) with Nick Mailer. We secured an interview with Brass Eye co-writer Peter Baynham at the moment when all the newspapers were failing to do so, and that got us a decent amount of interest. It was written about in newspapers and magazines, and in those early days of the web’s popularity, we were getting the sort of hits that would still be lovely to get today. This led to some really fortunate moments, mostly thanks to the kindness of Pete Baynham, with invites to the Election Night Armistice in 97, and an invite to the green room afterwards, where Nick and I watched the election results all night long in the company of our comedy heroes. And Jenny Powell. Certainly one of the most extraordinary moments I’ve had. And later, Pete invited us to a taping of I’m Alan Partridge – the one with Chris Morris in it – and in the green room later we finally met him, and had a fantastic lengthy chat. Oddest thing about that day was realising my main ambition had been realised, and I needed to get some new ones.

Youth Work
That came next, after Talk Radio stopped being fun, and the McTwat was converting it into a ghastly tabloid sports station. I was invited to help with a youth group run at a church a friend of mine, Steve Daughtery, had recently starting working for as the curate. This grew into a nearly full-time job for three years. That was an interesting time. I count them as possibly the best three years of my life, and yet some of the most difficult. It’s confusing. I’d rather have this life I have now, than go back to those times. I think that’s probably a healthy attitude to life. The work was wonderful, and I still love the kids in the groups dearly, despite their not being kids any more, and having lost contact with most of them. They will always be incredibly special to me. The church was also wonderful, and working with Steve is another reason the era counts so highly for me. However, my personal life at the time was not as fun. The time was bookended by two particularly unhappy relationships, the first of these pretty devastatingly unhappy. I was also fairly lonely, with very few friends nearby, and most time that would otherwise be used for a social life used up running youth groups.

PC Gamer
At the same time as starting the youth work, I also started writing for PC Gamer. In fact, there’s a story that’s far too long for this already very long post about the day I signed the contract to do paid work for the church being the same day Matt Pierce called me and offered me a staff writer job on the magazine. I stayed with the youth work, and Gamer kept using me as a freelancer, meaning I was fairly astonishingly lucky and got to do two dream jobs at once.

The Second Degree
After three years working for Christ Church, Steve was leaving and he encouraged me to move on as well. I found out about a course in Bristol, Youth And Community Work & Applied Theology. It sounded interesting, and like most major decisions I’ve made with my life, I decided to do it on a whim. And this time I completed it, with a First, which felt a vindication after the A Levels. This also meant doing youth work in Winsley, near Bath. Again, the members of the youth groups were great, and really ought to get their acts together and arrange a time for us to meet up again. I also made some fantastic friends at college, and life without Sian Brewer and Jo Dolby would have been spectacularly awful.

Future
Being in Bath also meant being near Future, and that was more helpful than simply for work. In Winsley, I was pretty damned lonely. The church was remarkably unhelpful about taking care of me, other than Graham, my line manager, and Robert, the vicar. I remember a three month period when no one but me came in my house. It sucked rather a lot. And then Kieron Gillen rescued me from it all. With remarkable kindness and effort, he made sure to involve me in the activities of the Gamer crowd, inviting me to drinks, parties, etc, and with that I made the social group and good friends I have today. So the same thanks is extended to all those people who welcomed me in.

Now
Which brings us to today. Well, two years later. Two years of no youth work is longer than I intended, but it has allowed me to carve out a more serious career as a journalist. I feel enormously blessed, continuing to work in a job I love, and surrounded by friends and peers who inspire me. When it comes to my work, I’m especially motivated and inspired by Stuart Campbell, who we should all note is 40 today, and therefore incredibly old, and is an excellent chum.

I’ve named names, which makes me feel incredibly guilty about not naming everyone else. But people know I love them, and if they don’t, they should ask and I’ll tell them I do.

What hasn’t bee achieved? The rest of life, I realise. Girlfriend, wife, children, ideally in that order. Which, at 30, is a bit disappointing. It’s the big goal I’ve yet to reach, my unrealised ambition. I always assumed I’d have that bit figured out by this point in my life, and the rather stark reality that it’s not even started is a little depressing. But hey ho, at least I met Chris Morris before he went RUBBISH.