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All I ever wanted was to be a member of the young generation. Obscenely tight trousers, cap-sleeved T-shirt and floppy hair. Dancing for the nation on a Saturday night, live from exotic locations like Weston-Super-Mare. Shudder at the thought. All I ended up with was being mistaken for a little girl " Och hasn't she got lovely hair, och wit a bonnie wee lassie". Not good when you know you're also a bonnie wee poof. Homo was definitely in my genes and I was in everyone else's [male,girls were pals] before I could even spell sexuality. It's amazing who's available when you yourself are so unknowingly available. But then most men never look at the mantle-piece when they're stoking the fire. They would dump, then I'd get thumped. Hated school - made my life hell. Was a time when any old sadist could become a teacher. Aparrently, my neice says, I'm the only famous pupil not listed in their books but then protestants are not exactly renowned for their tollerence. Bunked. No grades. End up selling paint and wallpaper paid for the perms and Saturday nights in satellite city (it's a wonder I'm not crippled, dancing all night in cowboy boots). Fell in with a bad crowd - called themselves friends. With friends like them............I was a very trusting and gullible young thing but a nasty streak lurked within. Things were getting out of hand. It wasnt what I wanted. I used to read and dream about London. Anywhere else but home really. Got here in the summer of '79. Only meant to be for the weekend. First stop, Earls Court. Oh my! so many men, a return ticket, two days and so little time [It was a good few years before Hi-Energy]. Home - I'd found it! bought the T-shirt and stayed. Hurt so many people in the process. It hurt me, but I was angry. I was looking after number one. This was my chance to start afresh, find out who I was, I could make up any old shite and who'd know what I was, wanted and needed.
Of course, wasn't so romantically simple. Contrary to myth, the streets are not paved with gold. No money, no address and no shame. Fearless puts it mildly. That ginge minge got me by as did my baby face. Hey - gotta do what you gotta do.
Finally got off the 'dilly [as in Picca'] courtesy of the kindness of a stranger. Gave us a room at his house. No strings. There is good out there you know. We were lucky. Good found us. So, here was I in a London address. NW5, Hampstead no less. Got a job. Heals - kitchen accessories, Debenhams - D.I.Y. - I know, wine bars. Apprentice baker.
Don't know what possessed me there. Dancing 'til 3 then at my ovens at 5. Not a good combination. I had baked one loaf too many. Then it was a loooong period in the national handbag - benefits.

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All I ever wanted was to be a member of the young generation. Obscenely tight trousers, cap-sleeved T-shirt and floppy hair. Dancing for the nation on a Saturday night, live from exotic locations like Weston-Super-Mare. Shudder at the thought. All I ended up with was being mistaken for a little girl " Och hasn't she got lovely hair, och wit a bonnie wee lassie". Not good when you know you're also a bonnie wee poof. Homo was definitely in my genes and I was in everyone else's [male,girls were pals] before I could even spell sexuality. It's amazing who's available when you yourself are so unknowingly available. But then most men never look at the mantle-piece when they're stoking the fire. They would dump, then I'd get thumped. Hated school - made my life hell. Was a time when any old sadist could become a teacher. Aparrently, my neice says, I'm the only famous pupil not listed in their books but then protestants are not exactly renowned for their tollerence. Bunked. No grades. End up selling paint and wallpaper paid for the perms and Saturday nights in satellite city (it's a wonder I'm not crippled, dancing all night in cowboy boots). Fell in with a bad crowd - called themselves friends. With friends like them............I was a very trusting and gullible young thing but a nasty streak lurked within. Things were getting out of hand. It wasnt what I wanted. I used to read and dream about London. Anywhere else but home really. Got here in the summer of '79. Only meant to be for the weekend. First stop, Earls Court. Oh my! so many men, a return ticket, two days and so little time [It was a good few years before Hi-Energy]. Home - I'd found it! bought the T-shirt and stayed. Hurt so many people in the process. It hurt me, but I was angry. I was looking after number one. This was my chance to start afresh, find out who I was, I could make up any old shite and who'd know what I was, wanted and needed. Of course, wasn't so romantically simple. Contrary to myth, the streets are not paved with gold. No money, no address and no shame. Fearless puts it mildly. That ginge minge got me by as did my baby face. Hey - gotta do what you gotta do. Finally got off the 'dilly [as in Picca'] courtesy of the kindness of a stranger. Gave us a room at his house. No strings. There is good out there you know. We were lucky. Good found us. So, here was I in a London address. NW5, Hampstead no less. Got a job. Heals - kitchen accessories, Debenhams - D.I.Y. - I know, wine bars. Apprentice baker. Don't know what possessed me there. Dancing 'til 3 then at my ovens at 5. Not a good combination. I had baked one loaf too many. Then it was a loooong period in the national handbag - benefits.