To see other chapters click here<\/a><\/p>\n Love turns everyone into imbeciles<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n \n Forgetfulness<\/b><\/p>\n \n I wake from a dream, and in a moment, it is gone. I have lived with a woman for ten years and now I struggle to remember our time together. As I drive, someone annoys me and I forget the morals I thought I lived by.<\/p>\n By the time I was ten, I had pretty much forgotten myself.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n M23 \u2013 23rd July 2008 \u2013 The Burgundy Jag – Part 1<\/b><\/p>\n \n I\u2019m driving north on the M23 towards London and am about two miles south of Crawley. I look in my rearview mirror and see a police car speeding toward me; it\u2019s about half a mile back. Don\u2019t worry, this is a different story from the one involving the blue car. My memory hasn\u2019t got quite that bad yet.<\/p>\n I take my foot off the accelerator and gently move into the nearside lane; I\u2019m feeling slightly anxious regarding my speed and whether they\u2019re after me. Then I notice another car, just in front of the police, it\u2019s a burgundy-coloured Jag.\u00a0 <\/span>Its lights are on full beam too and as they pass, I quickly take a look at them, they look like elderly police officers and they\u2019re laughing. They\u2019re doing about 120 mph, so I surmise they must be important.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1975 – Educating Simon<\/b><\/p>\n \n Mr Garriock, the headmaster, requested my presence. When I got to his office there was a queue. I, along with two other boys, stood in silence outside his office. As I waited, I began to collate all the dodgy activities I\u2019d got up to recently and couldn\u2019t help but wonder which of them had brought me to this corridor of doom. For each of them, I began to build defence cases along with mitigating circumstances and appropriate punishments should my opinion on such matters be requested. The two boys went in ahead of me, one after another, each coming out with tears in their eyes. The door opened and Mr Garriock called me in.<\/p>\n \u201cSit down Simon,\u201d he took a puff from his pipe. \u201cWell, well, what are we going to do with you, Simon?\u201d He paused, just like the man in the Condor pipe tobacco adverts. \u201cYou\u2019re a bright boy, but you keep letting yourself down. You fight, you\u2019re disobedient, and God knows what else you get up to. If you carry on like that you\u2019re going to end up in a lot of trouble. Is that what you want?\u201d<\/p>\n I mouth a silent no and look down in shame.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you don\u2019t focus on your education, what will you have?\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m tempted to point out my naturally proficient criminal mind, but having such a mind means I know it\u2019s best not to.<\/p>\n He sighs.<\/p>\n \u201cAfter the summer break, you\u2019ll be doing an exam, the result of which will determine the school you go to, and in turn that\u2019ll partly dictate what happens to you for the rest of your life. So, either you pull your socks up now, or I fear it\u2019ll be too late. And let\u2019s face it, you are not going to have as many options available to you as most people.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m like a man facing the gallows.<\/p>\n \u201cSo,\u201d he says, \u201cfrom now until the exams I\u2019m going to teach you a few hours a week.\u201d<\/p>\n And that\u2019s what happened.<\/p>\n The fact that he was willing to pay me attention meant I felt indebted to him and so I tried my best, okay, almost my best, to do well.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n It is a clich\u00e9, but the attention I received from individuals who seemed to genuinely care had an effect, and their actions found a place in my heart a long time after they\u2019d gone. It\u2019s a big temptation for teachers to focus on students who don\u2019t need much help, but the real struggle is not lesson plans and reports but resisting that temptation and doing one\u2019s best to help those who need it too.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 2008 – Bullying<\/b><\/p>\n \n One of my sons has drawn a smiley face on my touchpad.<\/p>\n A couple of days ago, a boy from their school threatened to follow them home and smash our windows. Their crime had been a friend of this boy had punched my son in the head from behind and my son had turned around and punched him in the stomach. The boy fell against a locker at which point a teacher intervened. The boy then felt the fight had been stopped prematurely, making it appear as if he\u2019d lost. From then on, he\u2019d set himself on a path of vengeance.<\/p>\n A few weeks later the same boy went up to a skinny bespectacled Indian boy, called him a \u201cpaki\u201d and then with a well-placed coin between his knuckles punched the boy in the eye. The boy collapsed immediately and was unconscious for some time. His vision was permanently damaged by this attack, yet the attacker is still at the school, apparently receiving, \u201cspecial attention\u201d. Meanwhile, his friends are continuing to persecute my sons.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n July 2008 – Knife Crime<\/b><\/p>\n \n I\u2019m sitting in front of a video camera; a group of youths are making a documentary on knife crime.<\/p>\n \u201cDid you ever carry a knife, Simon?\u201d<\/p>\n I nod, \u201cYes, from about 11 onwards I had a fascination with weapons and violence. I bought a large \u2018Green River\u2019 knife and strapped it to my leg, then tucked the handle into my sock. I wore a strap on my arm so I could hold it and continued to carry it until I was 13. What stopped me was this. I was jumping around in Roundshaw Youth Club when it flew across the floor. One of the youth workers who I liked, picked it up and went ballistic. It was his intervention and disapproval that persuaded me to stop wearing it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy did you carry a knife?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I wanted to create an impression to others that I was hard, so people would either leave me alone or show me some respect.\u201d<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1981 – Revenge Attack<\/b><\/p>\n \n I have cornered a boy in a stranger\u2019s porch way. He\u2019s pleading with me to leave him alone, but he\u2019s been taking the piss out of me for weeks and I know I have to teach him a lesson. I go to punch him on the nose but miss, so spin around and strike my stump hard on it. His face is covered in blood. I pull back my leg and kick him hard in the shin. He immediately drops to the ground in tears. A woman comes out from another house and shouts at me. I walk off. I feel sorry for him, but I also know this had to be done. He kept taunting me and then telling the teachers at school I\u2019d threatened him. Which I had, but it wasn\u2019t without cause. He forgot there were other options available to me. Six weeks later he apologised to me and showed me the bruise was still dark on his leg.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n M23 \u2013 23rd July 2008 \u2013 The Burgundy Jag – Part 2<\/b><\/p>\n \n The police car is now a few hundred metres ahead of me and I can see other police cars further ahead too. There seems to be some kind of incident, I have to slow down, as the traffic is building up.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 5th August 2008 – The Gloves are On<\/b><\/p>\n \n I walk into a place I\u2019m working in today and as I do there\u2019s a group of people standing in the corridor. One of them, who always reminds me of a gangster who\u2019s gone straight, has got a couple of very large boxing gloves. \u201cHold on a minute mate,\u201d he says to me, \u201cI\u2019ve got an idea, put these on.\u201d He helps put them on my arms. We\u2019re standing there laughing, I do a quick karate kick towards his head. He looks impressed.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n M23 \u2013 23rd July 2008 \u2013 The Burgundy Jag – Part 3<\/b><\/p>\n \n It\u2019s difficult to know what\u2019s going on ahead. There are lots of police lights flashing, and then I notice the burgundy<\/span> car is trying to get past the police cars. First, he feigns an attempt to drive up the bank to the side of the road but is blocked by a quick-witted police driver, then he tries to weave between the gap created by the movement. The police aren\u2019t having it, and four police cars ram him into the central reservation. I hold back about 100 metres in case they pull out any guns. The police are all over the vehicle in seconds, opening the doors and pulling out the old geezers.<\/p>\n After a few minutes, a couple of other officers beckon us to drive past. As I do I see one of the burgundy Jag occupants, handsome as an ageing film star, laughing as the police handcuff him.<\/p>\n I can\u2019t help but wonder if these criminals were so sick with the humdrum of normal life that they couldn\u2019t stop themselves from doing one more job.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 2008 – Bullying the Bullies<\/b><\/p>\n \n What do you do if your children are being threatened by someone who\u2019s shown they\u2019re willing to attack a defenceless person?\u00a0My kids\u2019 mum says they should just walk away, but when one of my kids returned from the latest incident, he was pale with fear because he recognised the risk this kid posed. This stirs in me the same characteristics the boy demonstrates, but I know, that path will lead to too much destruction. If I tell you I\u2019m more scared of what I\u2019ll do than what others may do to me, it\u2019s not me trying to be a hard man, it\u2019s me recognising that many of us have such feelings, and if we give into them then the consequences are very likely to be disproportionate.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1975 \u2013 Aged 10 – Mayfair in Paddington<\/b><\/p>\n \n My mother and I are in Paddington Station. We\u2019re waiting for a train to take me to Devon. I\u2019ll be travelling alone for the first time. We mull about for a while then, out of the blue, Mum says, \u201cFollow me\u201d, so I do. We end up standing in front of a newspaper vendor\u2019s hut.<\/p>\n \u201cSimon,\u201d she says, \u201cI\u2019m going to buy you a girlie magazine, you know what they are don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n I nod, \u201cYou mean a porno mag.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, but I don\u2019t like that name, it makes it sound dirty and bad, and sex isn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOne of our teachers says porno mags degrade women.\u201d<\/p>\n Mum looks at me and frowns.<\/p>\n \u201cAnyway,\u201d she says, \u201cwhen you come back from your holiday, I\u2019ll let you look at it. The reason I\u2019m doing this is because I don\u2019t want you to think sex or relationships are things you can\u2019t talk to me about\u201d.<\/p>\n I\u2019m a bit shocked by all of this and as she points at one of the magazines to the vendor, I can\u2019t help but feel a big surge of embarrassment. The vendor put the magazine in a brown paper bag and passed it to my mother.<\/p>\n A bit later we walked past the station\u2019s WH Smith\u2019s shop where they were selling Monopoly board games cheap, so, Mum bought one and put it and the magazine in a carrier bag. A bit later, as she waved me goodbye from the platform, my eyes became drawn to the bag and all it had to offer. Looking back, I can\u2019t help but think the carrier should have had the words, \u201cSimon\u2019s Future\u201d written on it.<\/p>\n For many, what Mum did that day was inappropriate, however, her desire for us to feel like we could speak about sex and love did come about from my late teens onward. Again, some may say such openness isn\u2019t appropriate between a mother and son, but this will have to be a discussion for another day.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1975 \u2013 Jollymead – Part 1<\/b><\/p>\n \n 200 miles and five hours later, I arrived at Newton Abbot. I\u2019d spent the whole journey in the guard\u2019s van sitting on sacks of mail, back then that was where most disabled people were \u2018seated\u2019.<\/p>\n Once we stopped, the guard went off for a few minutes, then returned with a man called Robbie. Robbie looked like a woodcutter from a fairy story, well he didn\u2019t have a green velvet Robin Hood cloak or an axe, but he was bearded and wore a check shirt. As he helped me get off the train, he smiled and said, \u201cHello Simon, welcome to Devon.\u201d<\/p>\n Robbie ran an outward-bound centre for disabled children on Dartmoor, called Jollymead, which my mum had sent me to for a week. When we got to the place it felt as if we were in the middle of nowhere. Jollymead was a white-walled bungalow with two large bay windows at the front while various rooms were going off from the corridors inside, including Robbie and his family\u2019s living quarters. The ones we had access to were the playroom in the left bay-windowed room, the boys\u2019 dormitory in the right-hand one, the girls\u2019 dormitory right next to the boys\u2019 one, a bathroom and a kitchen dining area. Around the house was a garden that rose above it to the left.<\/p>\n Once I\u2019d been introduced to Robbie\u2019s wife Judy, and their two daughters, I was shown to my room. There were 5 beds in it but only a couple of other children were holidaying with me. A boy whose name I can\u2019t remember, and a girl called Susan.<\/p>\n I unpacked and was soon called to the kitchen where we were informed of all the rules and their expectations of us. To my horror, we were told we had to wash up after every meal. \u201cHold on a minute,\u201d I thought \u201cWe\u2019re on holiday and we\u2019re paying you to make us wash up. I don\u2019t think so.\u201d Unfortunately, I suddenly realised I wasn\u2019t just thinking these words, but speaking them. Judy wasn\u2019t impressed.<\/p>\n In a not very well-veiled tone of anger, she said, \u201cYou may have everyone waiting on you hand and foot at home, but here you\u2019ll be treated the same as everyone else, you\u2019ll wash up or you\u2019ll be on the first train back to London.\u201d She paused to see if that\u2019s what I wanted, then added, \u201cEveryone works as a team here, is that understood?\u201d<\/p>\n I obviously didn\u2019t look too convinced, so Robbie interjected, \u201cThis isn\u2019t a holiday camp, you\u2019re here to learn. You\u2019re here to start growing up and becoming independent.\u201d<\/p>\n Even to me, aged ten, I got the idea this was so well delivered, that they may have already had this conversation with others on countless occasions. It may even have been a weekly ritual designed to break any revolutionary attacks before they could even begin.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, no one told me that,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cSo do you want to go home?\u201d Said Judy.<\/p>\n I shook my head.<\/p>\n Not satisfied with the clarity of the power structure she added, \u201cIs that a no, I can\u2019t hear you?\u201d<\/p>\n I said no very clearly.<\/p>\n The revolution was over!<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n The next day we were told to put on our swimming costumes and meet at the main gate. From there we walked along the road for 2 minutes, over a bridge and down to the riverside. We waded into the clear cold water, slowly letting it numb us bit by bit. Sue had an artificial foot which she took off, then, able to walk on her stump, joined us.<\/p>\n \u201cThe fish are nibbling at me.\u201d She shrieked.<\/p>\n \u201cFish! What fish!\u201d I muttered. I\u2019d recently seen the film Jaws and was still scared to get in the bath without clearing the bubbles first, let alone swim with fish. Yet here I was surrounded by hundreds of them. After a few minutes, we realised the fish didn\u2019t think we were very tasty, so we splashed each other and swam across and up and down the river until Robbie told us it was time for our next activity, canoeing. He\u2019d probably been assessing us all this time to see how confident we were in the water. Given we were, our next exercise was practising capsize drills in canoes.<\/p>\n That\u2019s pretty much how most of the week went on, find our limits, then push us a little beyond them, and then the next day go a bit further. I\u2019d eventually return to Jollymead many times, and a few years down the line Robbie had us surviving nights by ourselves on Dartmoor in the snow in mid-March.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 2008 – Christmas<\/b><\/p>\n \n I\u2019m writing this and my legs feel like blocks of ice. It\u2019s Christmas 2008 and the credit crunch is biting along with the weather.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1975 \u2013 Jollymead – Part 2<\/b><\/p>\n \n After the capsize drills, we walked back to the house and dried off on the lawn. Sue put her towel down on the lawn and told me to lie beside her. She put her arm around me and kissed me.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n When it comes to falling in love Billy Bragg puts it most aptly in his song Life With The Lions<\/i> when he sang about hating the arsehole he became every time he saw someone he fancied. Even at ten years old, changing how I behaved when someone told me they liked me seemed the worst thing to do, but I still couldn\u2019t stop myself. Even with experience and years of self-discipline, I\u2019m often unable to resist doing everything possible to make myself less attractive, and so it was with my first venture into adolescent love!<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n \u201cOi you two, stop your canoodling!\u201d Robbie shouted up. \u201cThere\u2019s potatoes to peel.\u201d<\/p>\n With my paw in Sue\u2019s hand, we floated into the kitchen where, for the first time in my life, a chore became a joyous activity.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n Of the many embarrassing traits that falling in love brings out, being overly chivalrous and humble are perhaps the most cringe-worthy. Suddenly I was no longer a street urchin but metamorphosed into an upper-class lord. Had I been able to acquire a monocle and top hat I sadly would have adorned them.<\/p>\n \u201cAfter you, my darling,\u201d and, \u201cPlease, there\u2019s a lady in the room.\u201d All needed not to be said, but I couldn\u2019t stop myself. Instead of the naughty sexually deviant rascal, who Sue\u2019d found attractive, she got a slightly prudish and coy pseudo-gent who was willing to wait \u2018til \u201cwe\u2019re married\u201d before enjoying the kiss she offered as she pulled a sheet over our heads.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1975 – Jollymead – Part 3<\/b><\/p>\n \n Amongst the other activities Robbie introduced us to, were shooting, archery, survival techniques such as building shelters, cooking and identifying edible foliage, climbing rocks, horse riding, caving, learning the country code and thinking about wildlife. We also visited local tourist sites such as Princetown and Newton Abbot as well as sitting around campfires listening to Robbie telling ghost stories. For a child without a father, this was a dream come true.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n In the garden, Sue paraded up and down in front of me, pouting and posing whilst I took photos. Without them, I\u2019d have forgotten what she looked like, but with them, I\u2019ll remember her clearly forever.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n The other boy staying with us, whose name and face I can\u2019t remember, had a father who worked for the Metropolitan Police. It was with him and his parents that I\u2019d be journeying back to London. I should have been grateful but instead, I sat in silence, the tip of my tongue pushing out my bottom lip, trying with all my might not to cry. For the whole journey, the dad told his son how the policeman who\u2019d popped in to say hello to us during our stay didn\u2019t know what real life was. How compared to the Metropolitan Police the Devon Police\u2019s job was like working in Toy-Town. Even back then I couldn\u2019t help but think he was a jerk.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 2005<\/b><\/p>\n \n I recently ordered three microphones from someone on eBay. One of the microphones arrived but the other two never turned up. I emailed the seller, but he didn\u2019t get back to me. I then sent him an email from a different account to see if he\u2019d respond and he did, so that confirmed he was ignoring me.<\/p>\n I thought about how to deal with this situation, yes, there was the small claims court and eBay feedback, but I doubted I\u2019d get anywhere doing that, so, this is what I did. I bought an Internet domain name which included the words \u2018metropolitan police\u2019 in it. I then emailed the seller a message using the domain name email address and wrote, \u201cI\u2019m emailing you from work. As you can see, I\u2019m not someone to be mucked about with, please can I have my microphones?\u201d Technically this may have been illegal, but I got the feeling I hadn\u2019t been specific enough to get myself into too much trouble.<\/p>\n Within a few minutes, I received a very apologetic reply, including an offer to send me both microphones plus an extra one for free. I declined the free one but did receive the other two the next day by special delivery. As far as I was concerned, I hadn\u2019t broken the law, (although some may disagree), your honour, but by the end of it I got what I wanted, albeit at a slightly extra cost. Still, it was worth it for the speedy resolution and the pleasure of a bit of revenge.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1975 \u2013 Jollymead \u2013 The Journey Home – Part 4<\/b><\/p>\n \n When I got home, I remained very quiet but when Mum asked me if I was alright, I couldn\u2019t hold it in any longer and burst out crying. She hugged me, but when she said, \u201cYou must have had a good time.\u201d I felt resentful because she didn\u2019t understand why I was upset, which was because I was in love and missing Sue. Why couldn\u2019t she see that?<\/p>\n At no point was there any recognition of the part I played in her lack of understanding. I\u2019d set her up and betrayed her by communicating nothing while expecting to be understood. Perhaps this was a misguided attempt to break the bond with her now I\u2019d found a new love, but instead of being comforted by her caring hug, I felt angry because I still needed it.<\/p>\n So often in life, we turn the tables on those we yearn for because we resent them for the power they have over us. It\u2019s akin to saying, I desire you, but as you won\u2019t give yourself to me fully, I\u2019ll hate you for rejecting me.<\/p>\n I am pretty certain this was the last time my mother comforted me as I cried. In the 1989 film Hideous Kinky<\/i> a guru talks of teardrops being a gift from God to remind us we are human, and so, for those few minutes of crying, I reconnected with the part of me that yearns, needs to be loved and fears loss. A part I\u2019d wanted to forget for a long time. But there was anger in the mix too, and from then on there was a distance between us caused by me.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n There was, of course, the porn magazine to distract me, and although I still didn\u2019t know what masturbation was, I took some comfort in the glossy pages of the Mayfair Magazine mum had bought. There were women in it I liked the look of, and a few I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n I\u2019m not sure if it had been Mum\u2019s plan all along, but I never felt the need to buy a porn magazine as I got older. Obviously on the Internet one comes across porn, but it\u2019s never been of much interest to me. Was that because of Mum\u2019s porn policy or would it have happened anyway?<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 2008 – State of Misunderstanding<\/b><\/p>\n \n My mother and I haven\u2019t spoken for a while. I doubt we both know why the other isn\u2019t speaking. It\u2019s a kind of agreed-upon state of misunderstanding.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1975 \u2013 Susan M<\/b><\/p>\n \n I sat down and wrote Sue a letter which ended with \u201cI love you\u201d. I also wrote, \u201cI love Sue\u201d on my schoolbooks and bought a bracelet with two hearts that had, \u201cSue and Simon\u201d engraved on it. She wrote back polite newsy letters that didn\u2019t end with, \u201cI love you.\u201d But as some people say, love isn\u2019t blind, it\u2019s just a bit short-sighted.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1975 School<\/b><\/p>\n \n The 11-plus examination was approaching fast, and Mr Garriock made good his promise to tutor me. In turn, I did my best not to let him down. I passed the exam and was put forward to go to the local grammar school, Wilson\u2019s. The headmaster interviewed me but declined my application because in his opinion I wouldn\u2019t be able to cope with such things as science lessons because of my disability. Instead, I was offered a place at another school, Wallington Boy\u2019s Grammar.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1976 – Councillor Bassett<\/b><\/p>\n \n Roundshaw Community Centre was situated inside the top section of a rectangular concrete building, next to the shopping precinct. From the centre\u2019s entrance, a large concrete slab formed a slope down to the shops. This whole area was meant to act as the hub of the estate\u2019s communal life, but it was grey and charmless.<\/p>\n My mother and I sat in the community centre\u2019s vestibule waiting to meet the local GLC councillor, Phil Bassett, a tall, heavy-set man with greasy black back-combed hair.<\/p>\n He walked out of his office and called, \u201cMrs Smith?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Smith\u201d my mum corrected him.<\/p>\n \u201cPleased to meet you,\u201d he put his hand out and they shook hands.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease come this way.\u201d<\/p>\n We entered his office and took our seats. He reclined slightly while we sat upright.<\/p>\n \u201cSo how can I help you?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I\u2019m sorry to bother you but I didn\u2019t know who to turn to. It\u2019s just my son here, Simon, he\u2019s been refused entry to Wilson\u2019s school on account of him being handicapped.\u201d (Political Correctness hadn\u2019t landed yet).<\/p>\n She passed Councillor Bassett the school\u2019s rejection letter which he read and passed back.<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d he laughed, \u201cI wonder why they think if Simon can\u2019t cope at their school, he\u2019d be able to at Wallington Boys? They\u2019re just passing the buck.\u201d<\/p>\n Mum, relieved to hear he was on our side, smiled and said, \u201cThat\u2019s what I thought too, it\u2019s ridiculous isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAs it goes, I\u2019m one of the Governors at Wilson\u2019s, so I\u2019ll bring this matter up at the next meeting. If you could give me your address, I shall get back to you as soon as I can with a response.\u201d<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1975 – Puberty<\/b><\/p>\n \n At ten years old I started going through puberty. During one swimming session one of my teachers came up to me in the changing room and said loudly, \u201cMy! You\u2019re a bit of a hairy monkey Mr Smith!\u201d and promptly grabbed my talcum powder and covered me in it. The other kids in the changing room roared with laughter. Don\u2019t worry, I didn\u2019t feel abused, I kind of knew it was something to be proud of.<\/p>\n Along with being hairier, I started to become sexually aware. Instead of just playing hide and seek with the daughters of my mother\u2019s friends, we\u2019d end up in cupboards or under beds touching each other. It was exploratory but not romantic, and kissing was not part of the repertoire.<\/p>\n Perhaps for most of us, this sex and love split is a common experience but for me, I tend to see it as a split that\u2019s almost a consequence of my mother and father\u2019s genetics. Mum was a romantic, my father a sexual predator looking for seduction and casual sex, and I became both.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 2008 – Familiarity Doesn\u2019t Breed<\/b><\/p>\n \n I\u2019m standing in a bar in Eastbourne with Steve, the one I write songs with sometimes. He\u2019s introduced me to a friend of his who\u2019s just split up from her boyfriend.<\/p>\n \u201cSo, why did you split up? Did you leave him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d she says, \u201cwe were becoming just friends.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m interested in this scenario, so I ask, \u201cDon\u2019t you find that with most of your boyfriends then, that the more you get to know them the less sexually attracted you become?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBloody Hell, how do you know that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think most people start off feeling very attracted to someone because they can imagine them being everything they want and at that point, it\u2019s not complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n She interjects, \u201cA few months down the line and you get to see their insecurities\u201d.<\/p>\n We look at each other like we both know the end of a joke and I say, \u201cThen if you start pulling away, they become needy or they bring out needy feelings in you which make you feel uncomfortable.\u201d<\/p>\n There\u2019s a moment of silence and then she says, \u201cWe\u2019re doomed then.\u201d<\/p>\n I laugh and try to reassure us both by saying, \u201cMaybe not, maybe some people find their sexual feelings come from feeling close emotionally to someone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow I\u2019m really confused,\u201d she says, \u201csurely that\u2019s what you feel at first?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou do, but it\u2019s not for who they really are.\u201d<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 2008 – Breaking Point<\/b><\/p>\n \n I\u2019m at a party, a woman is talking to me, and tears are streaming down her face. No one can see but me. A moment beforehand we were chatting casually, when she mentioned her husband had been affected by the credit crunch and I asked if she was getting extra stress from him as a consequence.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know what to do, he won\u2019t talk to me. I\u2019m sure he\u2019s having an affair but he denies it. He keeps telling me how he doesn\u2019t deserve me and I\u2019d be better off without him. But I love him and I have for the last 18 years. We had a great physical relationship now he won\u2019t touch me. I feel helpless.\u201d<\/p>\n I nod and say, \u201cYou need to know the truth\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cYes I do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid you get married in a church?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen surely making a vow to God must mean something to him?\u201d<\/p>\n And here is a point that many people will diverge on. Do you force yourself to abide by a commitment created by a religious regime or do you accept that, in reality, humans are fickle and cannot be forced into feeling for someone? The sensible answer is to at least try to work it out, to make an effort, but at some point, there may well be a breaking point.<\/p>\n \u201cHave you mentioned counselling to him?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n She breathes in sharply, \u201cYes, but he won\u2019t\u201d.<\/p>\n I add, \u201cIt\u2019s like he\u2019s determined to destroy the relationship, most of us have a self-destruct part of ourselves, maybe that\u2019s what going on.\u201d<\/p>\n I pass her a napkin from the buffet table, someone says goodbye to me.<\/p>\n \u201cExcuse me for one moment.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo please don\u2019t let me stop you, I\u2019m sorry,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be back in a minute.\u201d<\/p>\n But when I come back, she\u2019s speaking to a couple of women and laughing.<\/p>\n I say goodbye to her and we never see each other again.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 2005 – Boris<\/b><\/p>\n \n \u201cYou should remember the five F\u2019s.\u201d Boris says, \u201cFind \u2018em, Follow them, Finger them, Fuck and forget them\u201d.<\/p>\n I look at him and shake my head in disapproval.<\/p>\n He tuts at me, \u201cWell it\u2019s you who suffers, I never lost any sleep over a woman.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m curious and ask, \u201cDo you ever feel lonely?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cListen I\u2019ve been on my own since I was 12, I like my own company.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHave you ever loved a woman?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n He tightens his lips in a \u2018that\u2019s not an easy-to-answer question\u201d expression.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, there was Rebecca, she was Eurasian. I did have feelings for her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo, what happened?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe only way she could stay here was to marry a Scotsman. So I told her to be with him because I knew I wouldn\u2019t be good for her. But I did have feelings for her. But do you remember what that sex worker in Soho once said to me?\u201d<\/p>\n I quickly interject, \u201cYeah, I know, business is business and love is bullshit. I don\u2019t think that\u2019s true though. I think love and loss have been central to your casual approach to women.\u201d<\/p>\n He raises his eyebrows and shrugs a little, \u201cMaybe, but there\u2019s nothing I can do now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I guess you\u2019ve had an interesting life,\u201d I say smiling.<\/p>\n He looks at me askant, \u201cIt\u2019s not over yet. I\u2019ve still got to win you a million or three\u201d.<\/p>\n I shake my head, \u201cI won\u2019t hold my breath\u201d.<\/p>\n There\u2019s a pause.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know Boris, I want you to know I\u2019m grateful we met. There was life before meeting you and life after. I\u2019ve learned a lot about who I am, and enjoyed being with you far more than I ever thought I would.\u201d<\/p>\n Boris nods.<\/p>\n I continue, \u201cDo you fancy a cup of tea?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGo on then,\u201d he says looking a bit excited at the prospect of me finally making him a cuppa for him.<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d I laugh, \u201cwhilst you\u2019re making yourself one, I\u2019ll have one too\u201d.<\/p>\n Desolate, he moves his head from side to side, then gets up and heads towards the kitchenette.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1976 Winter<\/b><\/p>\n \n There\u2019s a knock on the door. I can see it\u2019s Mr Phil. He comes in and Mum makes him tea. He tells us he\u2019s made in-roads and thinks he\u2019ll get the decision reversed and we\u2019ll know in a few days.<\/p>\n He stays for hours and after he leaves Mum says, \u201cI didn\u2019t think he\u2019d ever go, anyway he\u2019s offered to take you to a sports event at Crystal Palace, do you want to go?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes. Are you coming too?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think he fancies me. I don\u2019t want to encourage him even if he can get you into a good school.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo, there are limits when it comes to motherly love after all.\u201d I think to myself.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1976 – There\u2019s a Price to Pay<\/b><\/p>\n \n Only two boys from Roundshaw Juniors got into Wilson\u2019s and I was one of them. But there\u2019s no such thing as a free lunch and Mr Bassett came with a price tag that I\u2019d be paying for.<\/p>\n During my first year at Wilson\u2019s, he thought it would be good for me to have him teach me Maths. One day we sat in my room, and he said he\u2019d been getting reports of me shouting out to everyone that I was a bastard.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, I haven\u2019t,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cI know you have!\u201d He insisted.<\/p>\n \u201cBut I haven\u2019t!\u201d I protested.<\/p>\n He wouldn\u2019t relent, \u201cThere\u2019s no point denying it, I have proof, I have a witness.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNever you mind.\u201d<\/p>\n I became doubtful as to whether I might have said something like that. \u201cI don\u2019t know, maybe I did say it but I can\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n He sensed blood, \u201cYou did say it. There\u2019s no point denying it. Don\u2019t let me hear that you\u2019ve been saying such things again. Have I made myself clear?\u201d<\/p>\n We then went on to work on converting fractions into decimals, which is done by dividing the bottom number into the top one.<\/p>\n I kept on making mistakes \u2013 apparently \u2013 and finally I was warned if I made one more I\u2019d be punished. I started to shake. My mother was in the front room, just a few yards away.<\/p>\n \u201cI want to go,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, you\u2019ll stay here and do this properly, I\u2019m not having you bother your mother. Now get on with it.\u201d<\/p>\n So he set me a conversion to do and very carefully I got on with it. I was sure I\u2019d got it right and beamed with relief.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s wrong,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t believe it, \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s wrong,\u201d he repeated, \u201cYou divided the top into the bottom. Now stand up.\u201d<\/p>\n He pulled my trousers and pants down and smacked me across my bare bottom \u2018till I cried.<\/p>\n \u201cNow if I find out you\u2019ve told your mother there\u2019ll be worse to follow. Do you understand?\u201d<\/p>\n So, I didn\u2019t tell her until I was an adult.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n When I was in my late teens, I saw Mr Bassett in Sutton Library holding the hand of a very pale and timid-looking little boy. Mr Bassett nodded hello to me and asked how my mother was.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1976 – Jollymead – Part 5<\/b><\/p>\n \n Because Mum thought I loved the holiday in Devon so much she got me booked for another week there during the Easter break. But this time the weather was bleak, and not wanting to miss an opportunity to test our resolve, one of our tasks was to sleep in bin liners on the Moors in the snow. This time Robbie wanted to push us, however, a few hours down the line even though he thought it might be going too far, so he picked us up and took us back to Jollymead. Because it was so cold and there were only three of us, Robbie and Judy let us sit with them in their living room, watch TV and cuddle up to their German Shepherd dog in front of the open fire. They also helped me find Sue\u2019s number \u2013 which in hindsight was technically aiding and abetting stalking \u2013 and arranged for her to come over for a few hours the following day. Of course, once she arrived, I turned into a blithering idiot again and probably didn\u2019t make the best of impressions, however, it couldn\u2019t have been so bad as she agreed to join me at Jollymead again the following summer.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n 1976 – All Set<\/b><\/p>\n \n My life was set. I\u2019d got into a good school and it looked, well at least from my delusional vantage point, like I\u2019d got the girl.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n Christmas 2008<\/b><\/p>\n \n My son who\u2019s now 14 asks me, \u201cDaddy, do you remember when you used to tell us you got coal for Christmas?\u201d \u2013 that is the translated version, the original was in teenage mumble.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d I replied in proper adult English.<\/p>\n \u201cYou did!\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019m sure I\u2019m right, so I add, \u201cI don\u2019t remember ever saying that. You must be getting me confused with your grandfather.\u201d<\/p>\n My other son interjects \u201cNo Dad, you did. Ask our Mum.\u201d<\/p>\n So I do and she tells me I used to tell them that if they were naughty, they\u2019d get coal from Father Christmas.<\/p>\n So much for having a good memory!<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n If this chapter has partly been about forgetfulness, it\u2019s also about what is unforgettable. Our lives are both full of small and big details, incidents and other people who touch us enough that we can never forget them.<\/p>\n \n * * *<\/p>\n \n End of chapter 16<\/p>\n