Ten years from now, I hope to be sat at a worn wooden table in a cosy Cornish cottage, sipping a decent cup of coffee (still not tea, sorry Britain), listening to birdsong from a garden that’s finally convinced a few feathered friends to visit. Ideally, there’s a stream at the end of that garden — because if you’re going to daydream, make it scenic.
My son will be a teenager by then (send help), and hopefully I’ll have nailed the balance between being a supportive dad and embarrassing him just the right amount. My wife Helen will still be by my side, rolling her eyes at my bad jokes, gluten-free experiments, and probably still rescuing me from trying to eat things that look gluten-free but definitely aren’t.
Professionally? I’d love The GF Table to have grown into a real community — part resource, part confessional, part recipe haven — a place where people laugh, learn, and never feel alone in the weird and wonderful world of gluten-free living. Maybe there’s a book or two with my name on the spine, some public speaking under my belt, and a role in making coeliac disease better understood and better supported.
And if we’re being really bold? I’d like to be known not just as “that gluten-free guy,” but as someone who made it easier for others to live fully, joyfully, and gluten-freely — with a bit of wit, honesty, and heart thrown in.
So that’s the plan. Or at least, the hope. Ten years is a long time. But if I’ve learned anything from this journey, it’s that a lot can change — and sometimes, change tastes a lot better than expected (especially if you add cheese).
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