Blogs: Jack lets his stubborn side do the talking

Jack has finished his degree. He has recently moved to sunny Spain to pursue his career.

A famous phrase used where I'm from in the North is 'change is not good', and it's a motto that is seen as something of a beacon amongst the Yorkshire fog and general gloom, whether that be of the people or the weather.

Writing this nearly three months on from my arrival in Gibraltar, the time does seem to have gone rather quickly. It seems a far cry from sitting on the floor of a random Spanish square in the middle of nowhere, on the verge of a breakdown. Ah, holiday memories.

Yes, that was something of a defining time for yours truly. Not one of my finer moments in a country that is nothing like your standard holiday destinations. There the locals are friendly and speak makeshift English. Where I live, in La Linea de Andalucía, they don't speak a word of the Queen's, not a single word. So when I was stranded, suitcase and dreams in tow, that day on Tuesday 17 July, that famous song by D:Ream popped into my head - Things Can Only Get Better.

People who know me will account for the fact I am generally quite a stubborn so and so, and make rash decisions without much thought or conviction, purely because I think it is the right thing to do at the time. Another common interest with Margaret Thatcher is that I don't do u-turns. So although it may have seemed somewhat questionable at the time, it was then that I said I would do a year here, irrespective of the destructive impact it may have, or the short-term, depressing acclimatising it would require. People reading this need not worry, I am fine. Just a few of the words I need to think about to perk me up again are: Philip Douglas Taylor, Sprinter Sacre, Cheltenham, Judd Trump, golf, NFL, Huddersfield and Yorkshire.

And that is just it. Remember the little things, and prey on them, fester amongst them like some sort of sick parasite. Sorry about the turn of phrase and upset tone, but at the moment, I am absolutely smothered in mosquito bites, so much so that it looks like I have a really bad butterfly tattoo on my left arm - seriously that bad. You have to hand it to those pesky mosquitoes, they know where to come for a decent meal.

But aside from a breakdown of my mental health, it's going well, and my probation is coming to an end. I should pass it, let's be honest, I'm just plain amazing. But after that period expires, I can hopefully make further inroads, and with the national hunt horse racing season impending, hopefully do something in that capacity. A dream job would be something related to horse racing trading. Seriously, what a job. Form the markets, write-ups and set the prices, I pretty much do that anyway. I generally work weekends, something I voluntarily put myself forward for. I don't want to miss any sport, in particular decent racing, which is invariably on Saturday afternoons. Most people here would spend their days off at the beach, maybe a spot of shopping or out for a nice meal. But nothing has me more entertained than trading on the day's racing on Betdaq. Some people would presume I need help, I only need a faster internet connection.

I come back home, finally, and make a belated return to the United Kingdom on the third week of October and I'm terribly excited. What a way to spend a 'holiday'. A few games of five-a-side football, darts, couple of days racing, get some decent meals from the mother (the best cook this side of the millennium), and a few drinks with friends. I am glad I have waited too, if I had gone around six to ten weeks ago I wouldn't have come back. Maybe I'm maturing? Maybe the sun has messed up the already dodgy side of my brain, who knows. I'll have an update in a month, wait with bated breath.