Born in Warrington in the early eighties, my parents moved up to Newcastle when I was a few years old. Although I soon picked up the Geordie accent there must have been some Lancashire still in me as my early years were spent supporting Manchester United - mainly because my grandma would let me stay up and watch their European games on TV.

However, attending public schools in Newcastle and being a Manchester United fan just doesn’t mix. One of them had to go and as my parents demanded I got an education, my Manchester United days were over.

At that time Newcastle were starting off in the Premiership and getting a ticket was almost as hard as winning the Pools. My uncle had a knack of getting tickets on demand though (usually because he would visit the Irish Club pre-kick off and would get a ticket from someone who had already had a skinfull!). So up I went into the Milburn (they used to have a standing section at the front), pushed my way up to the front and saw my first real glimpse of the people who would make me laugh, cheer and cry for years to come.

That day I was cheering as we hammered Swindon 7-1, including a Robert Lee hat-trick. Such was my need to go back to SJP as soon as possible I nagged my dad for 72 hours until he took me to see Norwich the following Wednesday, a game we won 2-0. Within a week I had witnessed 9 goals and my family was starting to think I was a lucky charm!

After a number of years on the waiting list I finally got my season ticket and thanks to the Gods it also coincided with Shearer’s first year at the club. My mate and I used to arrive at the ground an hour before kick-off (these were before the drinking days!) and either heap praise on the Newcastle goalkeeper warming up or take the piss out of the away goalkeeper. While many of them ignored us, one particularly large Dane didn’t like us and kept asking the stewards to move us which they in turn ignored. His day didn’t get much better; two hours late he was watching Phillipe Albert chip past him from about 25-30 yards out….

Unfortunately that was only my year as a season ticket holder. In the summer I went to University in London which restricted the games I saw. This did introduce me to away games, however, which were just as good (if not better) than home games. A whole day of signing songs, drinking in places I’ve never drunk before, new grounds, new people and usually zero points! The only away result I remember winning was at Derby when we came from 2 down to win 3-2.

Almost immediately after University I was offered a job in Los Angeles, California which despite the pull of my mates and the Toon, I took. My early days were restricted to finding out the scores on the local Internet café at Venice Beach, until I found the Cock & Bull pub on Lincoln which would have a great Toon following. Getting up at 4am was tough though, although it gave me a great excuse to sneak out of the house of the lass I had met the night before!

Eighteen months of California sunshine was enough though and I soon got homesick. As a last ditch attempt to keep me at the company, my boss offered to relocate me to the office in Boston which I accepted. Two years later, I’m still here today. Although there is a huge European population in Boston there are very few Geordies. However when you do find them you quickly become mates and a small following of us now go and watch the games (sometimes sneaking off work) at the local bar. Thanks to TV (finally!) and constant back and forth over the Internet I’m almost constantly up to date with the latest “gannin’s on” at the Toon. Some days it’s just like being back again in the Sir John Hall stand….