My grandad turned 90 this week. He is still active, still loves life and is on the whole happy. We joked today that if he was a super-hero, his special power would be pottering. He loves to potter. His garden shed is an alladin's cave of items he has collected over the last 60 years. He is a war veteran, and was involved in the D-Day landings. By sheer luck he survived the war, and it's cruel mental torture, and settled to a simple life as a driver. He married a beautiful woman when she was 19, and they have had 66 years of happily married life. He is a simple man, but a deeply thoughtful and loving man. He still loves life, and although he is no longer able to do some of things he has always enjoyed, still lives everyday to the full.
He is one twins, not identical, most certainly not in character. His twin brother also celebrated his 90th birthday, with all of us, but he is a shell. He gave up on life many years ago, and just exists. He has not enjoyed the best of health, losing an eye, and a leg to illness. He lives in a residential home, and sits most days in his chair. He has no interests.
However, both brothers are devoted to each other, and I know that when one goes, the other will be completely broken.
Interestingly, his nephew made a simple, and quite moving speech in tribute to both men. In it he said how their life was so much simpler, so much slower than our pressurised lives today. We are so charged with the need to achieve and accumulate that we have forgotten simple pleasures. My grandfather is testament to the need to just live the life that suits him, and to be satisfied with his lot. That makes him a very lucky man.
My grandfather is one of the kindest men I'll ever know, and I love him dearly. I was so proud to see him today, surrounded by his family, his 2 daughters, and the miriad of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He is humble, but, oh so lucky, and so rich in life experience. I love him.
Sunday, 31 May 2009
Thursday, 28 May 2009
Teenage years - Part 2
At the age of 13 I also had to start wearing glasses. All those years spent bent over drawings in my room at home had made me short-sighted. I was only supposed to wear glasses for reading, but for some reason I took to wearing them all the time. One of my heroes has always been John Lennon, and I guess it was my way of being more like him (!?). The other kids by now were 'casuals'. Tachini and Fila roll-necks and Nike jackets became the fashion in the playground. My parents would not buy me these clothes, and I wore a lot of Asda clothes, and worst of all, home-knitted jumpers and cardigans. In order to please my mom, I let her choose things for me. Whenever I got my own way and persuaded my parents to buy me sonething in fashion, they always got the wrong colour, or the wrong style. I still did not fit in. No big deal you might think, and perhaps I was being a spoiled brat, but having the right 'uniform' counts with fashion concious teenagers. Because I still did not socialise with kids my own age, I had no idea what to wear outside of school, and when I did got it badly wrong.
I remember my dad forcing me to go school discos and most embarassingly, a roller-disco. I clung to the railings all night, wearing completely the wrong clothes, and feeling like a complete mis-fit. I stopped going to these all together. I was so out of touch with the other kids, but I didn't mind as long as I did well with my classes, and could still do my music and my drawings.
I remember going on a trip to a Youth Hostel with the other kids. It was hell. We went somewhere in Yorkshire. I was sharing a dorm with the other boys, who largely ignored me. I enjoyed the walks, and enjoyed going out during the day, where I could daydream and enjoy the scenery, but the mealtimes and evenings were awful. I couldn't wait to get home, to my sanctuary.
I also remember going on a music weekend with the local wind band I was in. Similar story. The rehearsals were good fun, but the activities were horrible. There was a swimming pool in the grounds, and everyone was to pile in. I jumped in what I though was the shallow end and found myself completely immersed in 6-feet of freezing cold water. I though I was drowning and panicked. I was eventually fished out, and didn't go near a swimming pool again for nearly 20 years. I was also voilently sick on the coach on the way back, and remember running down the coach, having been handed a plastic bag to be sick in. I couldn't get it opened, so held it to my mouth as I ran. I showered the entire coach in vomit!
I couldn't wait for school to end. I wanted to be a car designer, and tailored all of my GCSE options to it. When the time came I holed myself up for the summer and revised. To my relief I got 8 O-level equivalents, and some A grades. My course-work was good (I'd not had much else to do during my spare time), and I was offered a place at the local Sixth form college. Most of the other bright kids from my school were going. I visited, took one look at the place, realised that it would be just like school, realised that all the kids who'd ignored me were going, and bolted!
Instead I got a place at the local Art College, which was auspicious - 2 of my uncles had also studied there. I was excited, and, best of all, none of the other kids from my school were going!
After 2 of the most miserable years at school, the end came. On the last day, still very few kids talked to me, and only a handful signed my shirt (an old tradition). I didn't care, I was leaving them all behind. I remember one of the girls, who had always been picked on for being a 'swot' came over to me, gave me a hug and told me that she thought I'd done well in my exams, and that I'd make a success of being a designer. I was very touched by this. I was also delighted to be leaving all of this behind for good.
I remember my dad forcing me to go school discos and most embarassingly, a roller-disco. I clung to the railings all night, wearing completely the wrong clothes, and feeling like a complete mis-fit. I stopped going to these all together. I was so out of touch with the other kids, but I didn't mind as long as I did well with my classes, and could still do my music and my drawings.
I remember going on a trip to a Youth Hostel with the other kids. It was hell. We went somewhere in Yorkshire. I was sharing a dorm with the other boys, who largely ignored me. I enjoyed the walks, and enjoyed going out during the day, where I could daydream and enjoy the scenery, but the mealtimes and evenings were awful. I couldn't wait to get home, to my sanctuary.
I also remember going on a music weekend with the local wind band I was in. Similar story. The rehearsals were good fun, but the activities were horrible. There was a swimming pool in the grounds, and everyone was to pile in. I jumped in what I though was the shallow end and found myself completely immersed in 6-feet of freezing cold water. I though I was drowning and panicked. I was eventually fished out, and didn't go near a swimming pool again for nearly 20 years. I was also voilently sick on the coach on the way back, and remember running down the coach, having been handed a plastic bag to be sick in. I couldn't get it opened, so held it to my mouth as I ran. I showered the entire coach in vomit!
I couldn't wait for school to end. I wanted to be a car designer, and tailored all of my GCSE options to it. When the time came I holed myself up for the summer and revised. To my relief I got 8 O-level equivalents, and some A grades. My course-work was good (I'd not had much else to do during my spare time), and I was offered a place at the local Sixth form college. Most of the other bright kids from my school were going. I visited, took one look at the place, realised that it would be just like school, realised that all the kids who'd ignored me were going, and bolted!
Instead I got a place at the local Art College, which was auspicious - 2 of my uncles had also studied there. I was excited, and, best of all, none of the other kids from my school were going!
After 2 of the most miserable years at school, the end came. On the last day, still very few kids talked to me, and only a handful signed my shirt (an old tradition). I didn't care, I was leaving them all behind. I remember one of the girls, who had always been picked on for being a 'swot' came over to me, gave me a hug and told me that she thought I'd done well in my exams, and that I'd make a success of being a designer. I was very touched by this. I was also delighted to be leaving all of this behind for good.
Part 2 - Teenage Years
Following my slight humiliation at the School Proms, life suddenly became quite interesting. The girl I'd met at the Albert Hall became my first proper girlfriend, so far as relationships can go when you're 13. She lived not too far from me, so we could meet up after school, but this was not without it's drawbacks. Of course, we never got beyond kissing, but even that was awkward, there always seemed to be someone else around. And anyway, I was so clumsy that we kept clashing teeth! It didn't last long, but was a good taster!
My confidence must have been higher at this point, because I found myself a group of friends. In fact, we started a band. We initially called ourselves 'State of Play', and I played piano and wrote most of the songs. There was a guitarist and a drummer, and we met regularly at the drummer's house to practice. This was what I'd been waiting for! Saturdays became band days. We also used to go into Birmingham to look at the music shops. It was fun, and very rewarding. I found that my natural musical ability allowed me to learn a lot of the songs I'd been listening to at home. We played Pink Floyd, John Lennon, The Beatles and others. I started to go to concerts. We made recordings, and pursuaded the school music teacher to let us use the music block at weekends. We even had a 'fan'.
Over that period I wrote 30-odd songs, all juvenile, but I had a purpose, and more importantly I was in a gang. The guitarist got better and better, and because I never really understood guitars, I left him to it. The drummer though, was a different matter.....I kept telling him what to play, and how to play. This was ok at first, and he seemed to respond to it, and he certainly developed. But then my over-enthusiasm turned to bossiness. Another guy joined us now and again, who'd had piano lessons. I didn't like his rather mechanical playing, and I also didn't like his choice of music, so I usually vetoed his suggestions. The drummer's older brother also joined us on guitar. He liked this new-fangled 'Indie' music, and was always trying to get us to play songs by newer bands. I tolerated this, but kept bringing the music back to my tastes. We decided to play at the year-end review, and I picked a very ambitious song to play, about Vietnam (I know, I know). The other guys didn't really like it, and wanted to play something more up-beat. They decided on 'La Bamba', which was a massive hit at the time. I hated it, but went with the group decision. The performance was decidedly average, and my singing and playing was awful. But, the other kids loved it, and we played it twice! However, soon after the mood in the band changed. All of a sudden I was no longer seen as the leader, and more than that, the others started wanting the other guys in, and me out. Eventually they got their way. I left them to it, and carried on making music by myself.
I did at this time have another couple of girlfriends. Both of them were pretty girls from the posh side of town. I don't remember how it all came about, but I 'went out' with them for a few weeks respectively. Nothing more than hanging out with each other, and holding hands happened. But I felt good while it lasted. It all came crashing down when one of the girls invited me to a party at her parent's house. I thought we were ok, but it seems not. She used the party as a means to dump me, in front of everyone, and then proceeded with flirting with the other boys there. I had to wait until my dad came to pick me up, and witnessed the whole sorry charade. No big deal you might think, it happens all the time. But to a sensitive kid with an already fragile ego, this was torture. I avoided these kids at all costs afterwards.
I did one more performance with the drummer, a sing I'd written myself, at a school parent's evening. It was a shambles! I didn't play the piano, but one of those home keyboard things. I also remember wearing a ridiculous pink suit (it was the 80s after all!). Halfway through my deep and meaningful song about the trouble in Northern Ireland I hit the wrong button on the keyboard and triggered a bossa-nova rhythym....embarrassment! I never lived that down, or the pink suit!
My withdrawal from the band heralded the worst time for me at school. All of a sudden I became completely invisible. I would walk into class and no-one would talk to me. No-one wanted to sit by me. At playtime I was left to my own devices. I was still not allowed to play sports by the doctor, so I hungout with the school layabouts during games, or went to an empty classroom and did my homework. Then the bullying started again. I received threats of beatings by the older boys, who would wait for me to leave the school gates and follow me, issuing their taunts. Apart from 2 or 3 other kids, I spoke to no-one other than the teachers, and no-one spoke to me.
Home life was still good. I vaguely remember the recession effecting my mom and dad's relationship, owing to money worries, and there was tension (I later learned that they nearly split up at this point!). I was still shielded from upset. My dad was out a lot at the weekends. For most of my childhood he worked part-time as a musician. He loved this, and the money came in useful. We had a nice home, and occasionally went away on holdays. It was on one of these holidays that my mom got ill. We came back early and she went into hospital. I went to stay with my grandparents, miles away. I missed my parents, but my grandparents looked after me well, and helped with my home-sickness. My gran would take me to school on the train every day, and every afternoon would meet me. She always had a chocolate bar and a kind word for me. I think she knew that I was having trouble with the other kids, and one day rounded on one of the bullies and gave them an earful. My gran was fearful to those who didn't know her. The bullying stopped.
When I went back home, my mom was still ill, so my other gran would sometimes meet me from school. She always met me, and told me to put my hand inside her coat pocket....there was always a Mars bar there for me.
The bullying may have stopped, but the alienation didn't. I was still doing well at school. My grades were always good, and I only struggled with subjects like maths and chemistry. I got frustrated by this, and would scrawl messages into my desk with my compass. I got found doing this by one of the teachers. It was particularly offensive, and I was immediately hauled up before the headmaster. I was suspended. Sort of. Just before this I had been selected to play one of the leads in the school production of 'Joseph'. If I was out of school, the production couldn't go ahead. The other teachers lobbied the head, citing my otherwise unblemished school record, and I went round to personally apologise to the teacher concerned. The production went ahead, and I was a hit. Well, with the adults anyway. The other kids still were indifferent. What should have been my moment was hollow, partly by my own sabotage, but mainly by the complete lack of recognition by my peers.
Following this, I didn't put myself forward for anything again. I also soon afterwards stopped playing in the school band, or taking music lessons. I just gave up.
With GCSE's looming, I resumed playing sports. The twice weekly humiliation of not being picked to play in anyone's team, of pretending to swim, of running breathlessly around the sports track continued. The only sport I like was badminton. I even liked playing this outside of school. But I hated competing.
My confidence must have been higher at this point, because I found myself a group of friends. In fact, we started a band. We initially called ourselves 'State of Play', and I played piano and wrote most of the songs. There was a guitarist and a drummer, and we met regularly at the drummer's house to practice. This was what I'd been waiting for! Saturdays became band days. We also used to go into Birmingham to look at the music shops. It was fun, and very rewarding. I found that my natural musical ability allowed me to learn a lot of the songs I'd been listening to at home. We played Pink Floyd, John Lennon, The Beatles and others. I started to go to concerts. We made recordings, and pursuaded the school music teacher to let us use the music block at weekends. We even had a 'fan'.
Over that period I wrote 30-odd songs, all juvenile, but I had a purpose, and more importantly I was in a gang. The guitarist got better and better, and because I never really understood guitars, I left him to it. The drummer though, was a different matter.....I kept telling him what to play, and how to play. This was ok at first, and he seemed to respond to it, and he certainly developed. But then my over-enthusiasm turned to bossiness. Another guy joined us now and again, who'd had piano lessons. I didn't like his rather mechanical playing, and I also didn't like his choice of music, so I usually vetoed his suggestions. The drummer's older brother also joined us on guitar. He liked this new-fangled 'Indie' music, and was always trying to get us to play songs by newer bands. I tolerated this, but kept bringing the music back to my tastes. We decided to play at the year-end review, and I picked a very ambitious song to play, about Vietnam (I know, I know). The other guys didn't really like it, and wanted to play something more up-beat. They decided on 'La Bamba', which was a massive hit at the time. I hated it, but went with the group decision. The performance was decidedly average, and my singing and playing was awful. But, the other kids loved it, and we played it twice! However, soon after the mood in the band changed. All of a sudden I was no longer seen as the leader, and more than that, the others started wanting the other guys in, and me out. Eventually they got their way. I left them to it, and carried on making music by myself.
I did at this time have another couple of girlfriends. Both of them were pretty girls from the posh side of town. I don't remember how it all came about, but I 'went out' with them for a few weeks respectively. Nothing more than hanging out with each other, and holding hands happened. But I felt good while it lasted. It all came crashing down when one of the girls invited me to a party at her parent's house. I thought we were ok, but it seems not. She used the party as a means to dump me, in front of everyone, and then proceeded with flirting with the other boys there. I had to wait until my dad came to pick me up, and witnessed the whole sorry charade. No big deal you might think, it happens all the time. But to a sensitive kid with an already fragile ego, this was torture. I avoided these kids at all costs afterwards.
I did one more performance with the drummer, a sing I'd written myself, at a school parent's evening. It was a shambles! I didn't play the piano, but one of those home keyboard things. I also remember wearing a ridiculous pink suit (it was the 80s after all!). Halfway through my deep and meaningful song about the trouble in Northern Ireland I hit the wrong button on the keyboard and triggered a bossa-nova rhythym....embarrassment! I never lived that down, or the pink suit!
My withdrawal from the band heralded the worst time for me at school. All of a sudden I became completely invisible. I would walk into class and no-one would talk to me. No-one wanted to sit by me. At playtime I was left to my own devices. I was still not allowed to play sports by the doctor, so I hungout with the school layabouts during games, or went to an empty classroom and did my homework. Then the bullying started again. I received threats of beatings by the older boys, who would wait for me to leave the school gates and follow me, issuing their taunts. Apart from 2 or 3 other kids, I spoke to no-one other than the teachers, and no-one spoke to me.
Home life was still good. I vaguely remember the recession effecting my mom and dad's relationship, owing to money worries, and there was tension (I later learned that they nearly split up at this point!). I was still shielded from upset. My dad was out a lot at the weekends. For most of my childhood he worked part-time as a musician. He loved this, and the money came in useful. We had a nice home, and occasionally went away on holdays. It was on one of these holidays that my mom got ill. We came back early and she went into hospital. I went to stay with my grandparents, miles away. I missed my parents, but my grandparents looked after me well, and helped with my home-sickness. My gran would take me to school on the train every day, and every afternoon would meet me. She always had a chocolate bar and a kind word for me. I think she knew that I was having trouble with the other kids, and one day rounded on one of the bullies and gave them an earful. My gran was fearful to those who didn't know her. The bullying stopped.
When I went back home, my mom was still ill, so my other gran would sometimes meet me from school. She always met me, and told me to put my hand inside her coat pocket....there was always a Mars bar there for me.
The bullying may have stopped, but the alienation didn't. I was still doing well at school. My grades were always good, and I only struggled with subjects like maths and chemistry. I got frustrated by this, and would scrawl messages into my desk with my compass. I got found doing this by one of the teachers. It was particularly offensive, and I was immediately hauled up before the headmaster. I was suspended. Sort of. Just before this I had been selected to play one of the leads in the school production of 'Joseph'. If I was out of school, the production couldn't go ahead. The other teachers lobbied the head, citing my otherwise unblemished school record, and I went round to personally apologise to the teacher concerned. The production went ahead, and I was a hit. Well, with the adults anyway. The other kids still were indifferent. What should have been my moment was hollow, partly by my own sabotage, but mainly by the complete lack of recognition by my peers.
Following this, I didn't put myself forward for anything again. I also soon afterwards stopped playing in the school band, or taking music lessons. I just gave up.
With GCSE's looming, I resumed playing sports. The twice weekly humiliation of not being picked to play in anyone's team, of pretending to swim, of running breathlessly around the sports track continued. The only sport I like was badminton. I even liked playing this outside of school. But I hated competing.
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Seven Ages Of Man - A Limerick
Seven ages: first puking and mewling,
Then very pissed off with your schooling,
Then romances and then fights,
Then judging chaps' rights,
Then sitting in slippers, then drooling.
Then very pissed off with your schooling,
Then romances and then fights,
Then judging chaps' rights,
Then sitting in slippers, then drooling.
Why do I need to find myself?
Before I continue with my story, some notes on why I'm pouring this all out in cyberspace.
I feel that I've become too bogged down with 'stuff' - work, mortgage, bills, relationships and a need to keep thinking about, and empathising with, and caring for, other people. Not a bad thing you may think.
Which it isn't if you have a strong self-identity.
I don't. I lost myself in all this stuff, and especially in my bouts of depression and anxiety. I got so concerned and bogged-down in concerns over work that I forgot what life is about - enjoyment, fulfilment, friends, family, loved-ones. I often feel like a cog in a machine. Of course, all this has been brought to a head with the current financial turmoil, which for the first time has meant I have a real possibility of having no work, for sometime. I also got so bogged down trying to please others, and gain acceptance from others, that I forgot what I wanted. Life took me where it wanted, not where I chose to go. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea what I want out of life anymore. Damn it, I'm having a mid-life crisis!!
I'm nearly 40. Do I want to look back on my life as a series of academic and work achievements and milestones, or do I want to look back and smile at all the fun, emotionally warm moments and love that I've shared?
This is about an attempt to tap back into a child-like curiosity about myself and the world around me, instead of having a world-weary cynicism about everything I encounter, and feeling that, whatever I do, it'll never be as good as 'the old days'.
This kind of mentality has been negative for so long now, that people around me have got fed-up of hearing it. So what if I feel that things were better then - we're here now, and it's not all that bad. Honest.
I feel that I've become too bogged down with 'stuff' - work, mortgage, bills, relationships and a need to keep thinking about, and empathising with, and caring for, other people. Not a bad thing you may think.
Which it isn't if you have a strong self-identity.
I don't. I lost myself in all this stuff, and especially in my bouts of depression and anxiety. I got so concerned and bogged-down in concerns over work that I forgot what life is about - enjoyment, fulfilment, friends, family, loved-ones. I often feel like a cog in a machine. Of course, all this has been brought to a head with the current financial turmoil, which for the first time has meant I have a real possibility of having no work, for sometime. I also got so bogged down trying to please others, and gain acceptance from others, that I forgot what I wanted. Life took me where it wanted, not where I chose to go. To be honest, I have absolutely no idea what I want out of life anymore. Damn it, I'm having a mid-life crisis!!
I'm nearly 40. Do I want to look back on my life as a series of academic and work achievements and milestones, or do I want to look back and smile at all the fun, emotionally warm moments and love that I've shared?
This is about an attempt to tap back into a child-like curiosity about myself and the world around me, instead of having a world-weary cynicism about everything I encounter, and feeling that, whatever I do, it'll never be as good as 'the old days'.
This kind of mentality has been negative for so long now, that people around me have got fed-up of hearing it. So what if I feel that things were better then - we're here now, and it's not all that bad. Honest.
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Introduction
Friday 23rd May 2009 represented a new start for me. I've been battling with depression for many years, and along the way have missed many opportunities, sabotaged loving relationships, lost touch with friends, and most importantly, lost touch with myself. May 23rd though brought a breakthrough moment in my search for 'normality'. I realised that for nearly 30 years I had been harbouring an illusion about myself, and that that illusion was the thing that had led me to depressive thoughts. Tired of self-destruction, I made a breakthrough that has paved a way back for me. I don't know if anyone is going to read this, but this blog is a step to finding myself again - 'Finding Hodge'.
I was born an only child, in the West Midlands, in 1972. I had a happy childhood, with many friends, a loving and cossetting family and extended family, and was generally shielded from pain and suffering. I played out late in the streets with my friends, had birthday parties and started infants school. I enjoyed learning, took pride in being able to speak without a pronounced black country accent, and was by many standards, bright. What I was not though was socially adept. Being a doted on only child set me apart from the other kids. I was not into the rough and tumble of childhood - I didn't like getting into scrapes, or getting my clothes dirty. I never understood the competitive and sometimes combative nature of young children, especially little boys.
I also exhibited a typical only-child problem - an inability to share. This led to my disappointment when close friends who I thought were my friends alone, started to branch out and seek other friendships. Rather than join in with the group, I sought out other 'best' friends, and went through the process again. This got to be tiresome, so a lot of the time I played on my own - I could never be left out that way, and therefore could not be disappointed.
I was not into sport, but was more interested in activities like building things, drawing, music and my childhood passion - cars. My fear of looking foolish in front of others meant that I didn't learn to ride a bike until most of my friends had ridden off with the group, and I kicked up such a fuss at the swimming pool that my parents gave up trying to teach me to swim. This meant that I was set apart from the other kids - a quality that set me up for teasing.
Being the doted-on only child meant that usually, if I had a temper tantrum, or burst into tears, I got my own way. This doesn't work with other kids. If anything it adds fuel to the flame. I became a soft target. Wind up Hodge and watch him stamp his feet and have a fit! Man, I was a champion at fits! I even managed to clear the room at my own birthday party through a fit over a toy garage the other kids wanted to play with, but which I wouldn't share with them.
Over time these kids moved on. I felt that they didn't like me, and was paranoid that they were saying nasty things about me. They probably weren't, they were more likely to be off playing and enjoying themselves. So, I carried on playing in my own little world, drawing and making, attempting to play music, seeing my family and generally, in my own way, being quite happy.
I moved onto primary school, and this is where the real fun started! I went to a school some distance away from where we lived - I used to get a train there every day. None of the other kids lived anywhere near me, so I didn't socialise with anyone outside of school. All of the kids in my street went to pretty much the same school, so their social networks tightened.
This difference to the other kids set me apart all the more, and the teasing and taunting got worse, sometimes getting physical. I started to dread Monday mornings, and would sometimes cry myself to sleep. I would get so pent up that I couldn't sleep, or would feign illness to get off school - which sometimes worked! It was worse during the summer, when the other boys would play football, and take part in the school sports day. Being uninterested in sports, I could only take part in the 'soppy' events like the egg and spoon, or the sack race. I felt humiliated and belittled by having to go through this.
However, there were 2 saving graces. I lived opposite a steep hill, which, when it snowed became a sledger's paradise. All the kids from the estate I lived on congregated there, and for a while, I was part of the gang. We stayed out until it was dark, sharing each other's sledges, having snowball fights and pushing each other over in the snow. My other pleasure was music. I started playing an instrument, found I had some natural ability, and joined the school band. We had a fantastic head teacher who played an instrument as well, and he joined in with us. He was a very kindly man, and always brought his enthusiasm out in the kids.
My summer holidays were usually spent with my grandparents, who let me help them with jobs, building bonfires, going to the scrap-yard, fixing the house, fixing the car, going on picnics, going on trips to Cannock Chase and telling stories and playing games. They never judged me, or ridiculed me, and always encouraged my interests. This was all great until the time came to go back to school......
I got through primary school, reasonably intact, but very sensitive for my age. I still hadn't had the rough edges knocked off. I went to a secondary school, again miles from home. Although some of the kids I'd been at primary school with also went to the bigger school, I still did not socialise with any of them after school. Then, in the first week at school, I got mumps, and was off sick for 2 weeks. When I got back, new friendships had been forged, the new kids accepted, and everyone except me had learnt the timetable and their way around. I found it hard to fit in, and had to learn the ropes fast. This yet again alienated me from the others, and I soon found myself isolated.
Despite this, I did well at school. I was never out of the top classes, and usually got good grades. I did well at the end of term exams, and excelled at English, Art, Music and History. I got on well with the teachers, and seemed happy enough. I continued with my music, and took my grade 5 exam, passing it straight off. I was in several schools bands, and played solos at concerts. In an environment where I understood the situation, I was confident and outgoing. In all other situations I hadn't a clue!
At the age of 11, we moved to a new estate. I was relieved to leave my old street behind. I'd lost touch with my old friends, who had moved on and were hanging out with each other on street corners, flirting with girls and, well being pre-teens. The new house was on an estate inhabited mainly by newly-weds. Most of the children were babies, or at junior school. The new house was even further away from school. I immersed myself in my inner world all the more. I drew incessantly, cars, buildings, designing things. I was still interested in music, and finally got my own stereo system. I devoured any music I could get my hands on. However, not having a peer group to share my tastes with meant that I was out of touch with the other kids. My early likes were based on the music my parents' liked. Luckily they are both into music, and I grew up listening to The Beatles, John Lennon, Jethro Tull, all sorts of jazz and whatever was on the radio.
Soon after, I started having problems with my posture, and with my knees. They were swollen, and often gave me pain. The doctor diagnosed a condition which was basically the bones growing too quickly for the tendons. This was aggravated in one knee by a bone fragment which had chipped off when I had collided with someone in the playground. I had to have my legs tightly bandaged for 6 months. I also was forbidden to play any contact sports for 2 years - suited me!
My music at school was going well. I had some natural ability, and could play by ear. This was lucky, because I hated my music teacher, who was a bully, and would often bawl at me. Somehow, I ended up playing the only instrument of a particular type in the school band - I got it because my Dad was into jazz, and a musician he liked played the same instrument. I was set apart again. I wasn't bothered, I liked the instrument, although at the time I hated jazz! A band I was in won through to the Schools Prom. Our prize was to play at the Albert Hall. What was meant to be a proud day nearly didn't happen - I'd changed to a more mainstream instrument, and the bandleader wouldn't let me play, arguing that she'd got used to me playing the other instrument. My music teacher explained that there was no big difference between the 2 instruments, and I was allowed on stage. It was a fantastic day - my first time in London. I even got off with a girl. This was slightly embarrassing, because my legs were swathed with bandages, and they kept slipping when we tried to snog........
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