BEHIND THE GEEZA

The Man Who Won't Stay Down

So, who's the man behind Greg the Geeza?

Fair question.

Some of you know me as the long-haired, grey-bearded, tattooed old geezer messing about with cement, moving rocks, building things, fixing things and occasionally making a complete bollocks of something.

Others might wonder what this bloke is doing at 55 years old, trying to build a new life, a home, a garden and an online presence.

Well, there's a little more to the story than that.

And I reckon it's about time I introduced you to the man behind the Geeza.

I've lived a few different lives

Over the years, I've worn quite a few hats.

I've been a boxer, a competitive bodybuilder, a powerlifter, a bouncer, a bodyguard, a media director and a nutritionist.

I've built businesses, chased ambitions, enjoyed success and experienced setbacks that I wouldn't wish on anybody.

There was a time when I measured my strength by how much weight I could lift, how hard I could punch, or how much punishment I could take.

I was young, strong, ambitious and pretty bloody determined.

And if I saw something worth pursuing, I pursued the bollocks off it.

When I believe in something, I throw myself into it completely — with determination, intelligence, passion and sometimes an almost consuming obsession to see it through.

The trouble is, I sometimes genuinely don't know whether I'm going to devour the challenge or whether the bloody thing is going to devour me.

Perhaps that's both my greatest strength and one of my greatest weaknesses.

Life, of course, has a habit of changing the rules halfway through the game.

Life doesn't always follow the script

I've had some wonderful experiences in my life.

I've also had some bloody awful ones.

I've made good decisions, bad decisions, trusted the wrong people, made mistakes and occasionally paid a very heavy price for them.

I've learned that being strong doesn't mean you're indestructible.

Over the last several years, my body has taken a proper battering. Multiple surgeries, injuries and physical limitations have changed what I can do and how I do it.

Things that once came naturally now require planning, patience and sometimes a considerable amount of colourful language.

And financially?

Well, let's just say I'm not exactly living the millionaire lifestyle.

But I'm not telling you any of this because I'm looking for sympathy.

I don't want anybody feeling sorry for me.

I'm simply telling you that the bloke you see today has travelled a long, complicated road to get here.

The stories that stayed with me

People sometimes underestimate how much a film, a book, a person or a piece of music can influence someone's life.

For me, Rocky has been one of those influences.

When I was a young lad, Rocky III changed something inside me. It wasn't simply a boxing movie. It inspired me to pursue boxing and showed me what determination, courage and hard work could achieve.

Years later, Rocky Balboa, the sixth film, struck an entirely different chord.

There's a moment when Rocky talks about life knocking you down, and he says:

"It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward."

— Rocky Balboa (2006)

That one line has stayed with me.

Because as I've grown older, I've realised that life isn't necessarily about how strong you are when everything is going your way.

It's about what you do when everything seems to be going against you.

Arnold Schwarzenegger has been another enormous influence on my life.

Think about his journey.

A young lad growing up in Austria who set his sights on becoming the greatest bodybuilder in the world.

And he didn't stop there.

He went on to become a Hollywood superstar, a successful businessman and eventually the Governor of California.

From bodybuilding stages to movie sets, boardrooms and politics.

What inspired me wasn't simply his physique or his success.

It was his extraordinary ambition, self-belief, discipline and determination to keep pursuing new challenges.

He wasn't content with achieving one dream. He kept setting himself another.

And I've always admired that mentality.

Other stories of extraordinary determination have stayed with me just as strongly.

Take the remarkable achievements of Tenzing Norgay and Sir Edmund Hillary.

On 29 May 1953, these two men became the first confirmed climbers to reach the summit of Mount Everest, the highest mountain on Earth.

Think about what that meant. Years of failed expeditions, brutal weather, unimaginable physical demands, enormous risks and the very real possibility of never coming home.

Yet, against extraordinary odds, they stood together on top of the world.

What particularly moved me about their story wasn't simply the achievement itself. It was the perseverance, the personal sacrifices, and the mutual respect between two men from completely different backgrounds who depended upon one another.

Neither could have achieved that historic moment alone.

Jessica Watson's story moved me for much the same reason, although her challenge couldn't have been more different.

At just 16 years old, this remarkable young Australian girl set off to sail around the world, completely alone, non-stop and unassisted.

Two hundred and ten days at sea.

Imagine that for a moment.

A teenage girl, alone on a small sailing yacht, facing enormous waves, violent storms, exhaustion, isolation and the uncertainty of what the next day might bring.

Plenty of people doubted her. Some thought she was too young. Others questioned whether she could possibly accomplish such an extraordinary feat.

But she believed in herself, prepared relentlessly, and refused to abandon her dream.

And 210 days later, she sailed back into Sydney Harbour.

Watching her story in True Spirit, I couldn't help becoming emotional.

Not simply because she succeeded, but because of the courage it took to attempt something so extraordinary in the first place.

These are the kinds of stories that bring this old geezer to tears.

Not because I imagine myself to be some great explorer, mountaineer or adventurer.

But because I recognise something of my own struggles in their determination.

The sacrifices. The setbacks. The doubts. The moments when giving up might seem like the easiest option.

And that extraordinary feeling of finally reaching a goal after everything you've endured along the way.

For much of my life, I thought it was me against the world.

But as I've grown older, and perhaps a little wiser, I've realised that it's me against me.

My fears. My doubts. My limitations. My mistakes.

And the challenge of becoming a better version of myself than I was yesterday.

Maria, Gabi and Our Little House on the Prairie

If there's one thing that matters more to me than anything else in this world, it's my family.

My wife Maria is the love of my life, my partner and the woman who showed me what genuine love and belonging could feel like.

Our daughter Gabi is my little princess, my motivation and one of the biggest reasons I get up every morning and keep going.

To understand why family means so much to me, though, I suppose I need to go back to my childhood.

Ever since I was a young lad, I've had a special affection for the Ingalls family from Little House on the Prairie.

I particularly admired Charles Ingalls.

Here was a man who worked tirelessly with his hands, faced adversity, loved his wife Caroline and their children, and did everything he could to provide for his family.

Their lives were far from easy. They faced hardship, uncertainty, setbacks and disappointment. But through it all, they had something that meant more than material possessions.

They had each other.

As a boy, I was deeply drawn to that sense of family, love and belonging. Charles represented the kind of father and family man I admired, and the warmth and togetherness of the Ingalls household stayed with me long after the television was switched off.

Looking at our life today, I can see some remarkable parallels.

Here we are, living in our own little house in rural Cyprus.

Nothing extravagant. Nothing particularly glamorous.

Just a modest prefabricated home, some land, our two dogs, Winnie and Bella, and what sometimes feels like a never-ending list of jobs that need doing.

We're gradually transforming the place into something we've dreamed about.

A proper garden. Somewhere to relax. Somewhere to entertain friends and family. And eventually, if all goes to plan, somewhere I can sit with my feet up instead of wearing bloody work boots every day.

We're doing it at our own pace, with limited resources and whatever knowledge, tools and materials we've got available.

I'm certainly no Charles Ingalls, and our circumstances are very different from those of a pioneer family.

But I understand that determination to make a home for the people you love.

Perhaps, without even realising it, I've spent a good part of my life trying to create something that captured the spirit of the family I admired so much as a child.

A loving home. A family that stands together. A place where we belong.

We've had our share of difficult times as a family.

But we've also had laughter, love, ridiculous conversations, wonderful moments and memories that no amount of money could buy.

I may not be able to give them everything I'd like to.

But I'll never stop trying to give them the best of me.

And sometimes, believe me, that takes more strength than anything I ever did in a boxing ring or a gym.

I'm not a professional builder.

I'm not an architect.

And I'm certainly not one of those self-appointed internet gurus who claims to know absolutely everything.

Sometimes I get things right.

Sometimes I make a complete dog's dinner of them.

But I learn, I adapt, and I carry on.

That's really how Greg the Geeza came about.

So why Greg the Geeza?

Because I got tired of seeing a world where everybody seems to be living some perfect, expensive, beautifully filtered lifestyle.

Perfect houses. Perfect gardens. Perfect bodies. Perfect holidays.

Well, good luck to them.

But that's not my reality.

My reality is getting up with aches and pains, looking at another job that needs doing, scratching my head, making a cup of tea and thinking:

Right then, you old bastard. How are we going to sort this one out?

Then finding a way.

That's what I want this website and my videos to represent.

Real life. Real problems. Real solutions.

A bit of DIY, a bit of gardening, a bit of cooking, plenty of laughter and the occasional disaster.

No pretending.

No bullshit.

He Who Dares Wins

I've lived in Cyprus for nearly thirty years now.

Somewhere along the way, the old London Cockney in me went a bit quiet.

But he never disappeared.

He's still there, underneath the grey beard, the long hair and the tattoos.

One phrase I've carried with me through life is:

HE WHO DARES WINS.

To me, that doesn't mean you'll succeed at everything you try.

Bloody hell, if that were true, I'd have had a much easier life.

It means having the courage to try.

To take a chance.

To pursue something you believe is worth pursuing, even when the odds aren't exactly in your favour.

Because sometimes you'll win.

Sometimes you'll fail.

And sometimes life will knock seven shades of shit out of you.

A quote from the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche has always resonated with me:

"That which does not kill me makes me stronger."

It's a powerful sentiment.

Although I'd add something to that.

Sometimes life doesn't make you feel stronger at all. Sometimes it leaves you battered, exhausted, disappointed and wondering how much more you can possibly take.

I've been there.

But perhaps real strength isn't about coming through every experience completely unscathed.

Perhaps it's about finding something inside yourself that allows you to stand up again, even when you feel you've got nothing left.

One song has always held a special place in my heart — Frank Sinatra's My Way.

It was one of my late father's favourite songs, and over the years I've come to appreciate its meaning more and more.

I've made mistakes. I've had regrets. I've taken chances. I've succeeded and I've failed.

But I've tried to live according to what I believe in, rather than what everybody else expects of me.

And when my journey eventually reaches its end, I'd like to look back knowing that, despite all the bumps, bruises and wrong turns, I lived my life my way.

For all that, one belief sums me up better than any quote or song:

I DON'T STAY DOWN.

The man behind the Geeza

I'm 55 years old.

I've got grey hair, a battered body, a lifetime of experiences and probably more stories than I could tell in a single lifetime.

Some are funny.

Some are outrageous.

Some are painful.

And some are deeply personal.

Over time, I'll share more of them.

Not because I think I'm somebody special.

And certainly not because I've got all the answers.

But because perhaps somewhere out there, somebody else is going through a difficult chapter of their own life.

And maybe seeing another ordinary bloke still having a go might encourage them to keep going too.

My story isn't finished.

Not by a bloody long shot.

I've still got a family to look after, a home to finish, dreams to pursue and plenty of living left to do.

And if I can have a few laughs along the way, even better.

So welcome to my world.

Welcome to the chaos, the laughter, the occasional tears, the mistakes, the little victories and whatever else comes along.

Welcome to the Geezaverse.

I'm Greg.

Greg the Geeza.

Not an expert. Not a guru. Not a bullshitter.

Just a husband, a father and a man doing the best he bloody can.

And one thing's for certain…

I DON'T STAY DOWN.

Oi Oiiiiiiii!