People can say what they like about my writing. People can say they like it, that they think it’s good, that they think it’s bad. People can say they agree or disagree with what I write. People can, with justification, pick me up on my occasionally wayward grip of grammar. People can say all these things and more, but no one can say I didn’t give it everything I had to make a success of my writing.

Eclectic Blue, the blog, has been going for coming up to five years now and before that the name was part of the Bristol Rovers matchday programme going back to 1999. The name, Eclectic Blue, is a play on words. I needed a name for my programme column that had a reference to the Rovers colours and I came up with that name, which sounds alarmingly like a series of soft porn videos from the 1980s.

I wrote for Bristol 24/7 about Bristol Rovers and occasionally about other stuff, I wrote a book about Corfu and I wrote for the Bristol Post back in 2006 about Rovers until politics saw me removed, politics that emanated from the football club and were acted upon by the newspaper. I never forgave the Post or Bristol Rovers for that. I doubt whether that column alone would see my writing career develop to greater things but I don’t know. 13 years on, I should be over it. I’m not, though, and never will be.

It was just my luck to have a life ambition in a dying field, that of writing for a living. I knew my chances were slim, but I carried on, hoping that just around the corner that break might actually come my way.

This blog post is number 3197 in less than five years. If nothing else, I am prolific. I try to write every single day and I end up binning twice as much as I publish (which tells you how bad some of my stuff actually is).

Obviously, I wanted to make money. I never did though. I get nowhere near getting into the black, in making back the money I invested in my writing projects yet last year, laughably, HMRC said I owed them money for royalties I received for my Corfu book for which I lost around £1200. I just laughed when I got the bill. I should really have cried. Taxed for losing money.

I am still working, still hoping, still trying to make my dream come true. I’m not entirely stupid, though, and recognise time is running out.

Thanks to everyone who has read my work over the years. It is my work. It is the only form of work I really want to do these days. I’m thinking about giving everything up in the near future to give it one final blast. I don’t want to go to my grave wondering if I might have succeeded if I had gone full time.