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August 1983 \u2013 A level results \u2013 Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I was still in bed when Mum brought in a small envelope containing my A-level results. These were going to determine the rest of my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDo you want me to open it for you?\u201d Mum asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She shook her head and passed it to me, \u201cI can\u2019t read the writing, it\u2019s too faint.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As I took hold of it, I looked and couldn\u2019t believe my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie\u2019s Story \u2013 Two Lines<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n There were no trucks to help the evacuees to their temporary residences, instead, they had to walk to the police station. As they entered the main archway they were escorted to the central courtyard. When someone asked if this was where they\u2019d be staying, they were informed that some would be stopping at one of the factories and the others would be housed near the river, just outside the city. As the crowd started looking agitated, one of the police supervisors stood on a small wall and addressed the 200-strong group.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThose who work in any of the factories please take the right-hand line, everyone else, take the left one.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie picked up her cases and went to the back of the right-hand one. Just as she took her position the woman in front of her called to the supervisor. As he approached, she did not attempt to hide her wrath and pointed at Bettie, \u201cShe is not a factory worker, she\u2019s an office worker!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie was taken aback but after a few seconds countered her husband worked in the bakery and she worked for VEF, the State Electro-technical Factory which was still busy making radios and telephones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes,\u201d the woman added, \u201cAnd you work in the accounts department, so I doubt you produce anything like the rest of us. They said factory workers, not paper workers.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie looked at the supervisor for guidance. He turned to the woman and said, \u201cShe works in a factory, so, she goes in this line, and anyway, who are you to be telling us how to work?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The woman huffed and under her breath turned to her husband and said, \u201cStuck up bitch, she\u2019s a factory worker when it suits her. But really, she\u2019s just a useless bureaucrat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie had never met this woman before, or if she had, she hadn\u2019t noticed her, but maybe that was the issue. Even so, she felt sick at the thought of someone who didn\u2019t know her being so aggrieved. Bettie sat on her case and trying hard not to show any emotion, trembled. For those few minutes, she felt totally alone. \u201cIf only Chanan had been here\u201d, she thought, \u201cthat wouldn\u2019t have happened.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m very aware that what Bettie went through makes my tales of woe seem rather trivial. But, as I\u2019ve said before, both wealth and suffering are relative conditions and there\u2019ll always be someone far richer or worse off than us. But still, it probably doesn\u2019t hurt to keep others\u2019 suffering in mind when viewing our own. Likewise, seeing our difficulties as valuable experiences, no matter how trivial compared to others, is also a way to help both cope with and find some meaning in them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n May 1983 \u2013 Wilson\u2019s<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n By May 1983 our school lessons were no longer about learning more about our subjects but being taught strategies regarding taking exams. We\u2019d practice pacing ourselves and setting time limits for each section of a paper, reading through all the questions first so we\u2019d be able to choose which ones to prioritise, memorising set phrases should certain questions arise, and going over previous papers continually because similar questions were very likely to be repeated. In our \u2018free time\u2019, we were supposed to revise every subject in detail. However, as soon as we were left to organise our study programme I started going to bed in the early hours and getting up in the afternoon. I\u2019d then socialise a little before finally getting down to work in the early evening.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn and Bill<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019d visited Evelyn and Bill about 5 or 6 times since first meeting them. It wasn\u2019t as regular a haunt as others I\u2019d see, but when we did get together it was always a lot of fun. One exceptionally hot day, when I should have been studying, I felt restless so decided to go down to the high street and on the way back, just on the off chance, knocked on their door. There was no answer, so thinking no one was in I started to walk off. As I did, the door opened and Evelyn poked her head out between the edge of it and the frame.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSorry,\u201d she said, \u201cI was in the garden sunbathing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Worried I was intruding I stuttered, \u201cIt\u2019s okay, I can come back another time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She beckoned me in, \u201cNo, no, it\u2019s okay, come in, I\u2019ll make you a cold drink and you can join me in the garden, it\u2019s such a beautiful sunny day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I followed her to the kitchen where we chatted as she prepared our drinks, meanwhile, I carefully made sure she didn\u2019t see me looking at her. She was wearing a white shirt, a bikini top and a pair of blue denim shorts. Once poured, she carried the drinks out to the garden. Evelyn set up a sun lounger for me and put it next to hers. I carefully sat on it, half expecting it to collapse and fold me in half. My one must have been partly behind hers because, from my vantage point, I could see her bare stomach glistening in the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She asked me how my studies were going and when I said I wasn\u2019t doing much she said she\u2019d have been the same. Then, when, I used a phrase that a local couple we both knew constantly used, we looked at each other and laughed. \u201cI can\u2019t believe you\u2019re saying it too now,\u201d she said. \u201cYou know there\u2019s no hope for you if you carry on doing that?\u201d I looked at her and repeated the phrase.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019ll be sorry, you won\u2019t be able to stop yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She sighed, \u201cOkay, I give up\u201d and then she said it herself and laughed. As we went quiet, I got the feeling Evelyn wanted a few moments of silence, so, for a change, I took the hint.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She picked up her glass and let it touch her tummy. I watched her finger touch where the condensation had pooled and slowly followed it down towards the top of her shorts. Maybe she knew I was watching, or perhaps she wasn\u2019t aware she was doing it, but either way, I did a massive gulp. At that exact moment, Evelyn burst out laughing. For a second, I thought she was laughing at me, but then she asked if I\u2019d seen a programme the night before. Slightly relieved I asked, \u201cWhat programme?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was just about to answer when the garden gate opened. It was Bill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHello, what\u2019s going on here then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We both looked around at him, he was smiling, but he didn\u2019t look happy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was conscious the scene looked suspect, and of course, given I was ogling Evelyn, it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI just popped around on the off chance,\u201d I said as casually as possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill scratched his forehead, \u201cIt might be a good idea if you go, Simon, sorry, but I need to have a word with my wife about something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, I better get back and do some revision,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill took a deep breath, \u201cIt\u2019s okay, it\u2019s just we need to have a chat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I put my T-shirt back on and looked at Evelyn whose eyes looked tearful, but her voice was normal as she said, \u201cDon\u2019t worry, and good luck with your studies.\u201d But everything felt wrong.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill opened the garden gate and gesticulated for me to pass through it and as I did, I felt it slam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As I walked off, I could hear Evelyn tell Bill how embarrassed she was by what he\u2019d just done, but I was so relieved to get away that I didn\u2019t stick around to check she was okay. There was a feeling of madness about it all, and that was something I didn\u2019t want to be a part of.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wilson\u2019s – To Scratch or Not to Scratch<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Although we could work at home, hence my calling on Evelyn, some of our revision still took place either in class or in the sixth form centre. As usual, a teacher would still sit in with us to keep the peace and on this particular afternoon, it was the headmaster\u2019s turn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I had often suffered from athlete\u2019s foot since I was 12 years old. On this occasion, the bottom of my foot itched so much that I kicked my shoe and sock off and started scratching it. The headmaster twisted round to look at me, faced forward again, then after a brief pause, looked around at me once more. \u201cSmith, what do you think you\u2019re doing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cScratching my foot, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, stop it immediately. It\u2019s disgusting and unacceptable to do that kind of thing here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Feeling a little aggrieved, I quickly scratched it hard, then put my sock and shoe back on. The headmaster shook his head from side to side in disbelief and we all got back down to work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n A Metaphoric Quandary<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s something about an itch that strikes deep at the human condition, both metaphorically and philosophically. Sure enough, there\u2019s the well-known seven-year itch, which alludes to someone in a relationship getting the urge to stray after a period of, but not always exactly, well, erm, seven years. But that\u2019s not what I mean here. What I\u2019m on about is how our reaction to an itch is a microcosm of many aspects of life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There are three main paths to take when dealing with an itch. The first is to simply ignore it but depending on the severity of the itch that method tends to be reserved only for those with a very disciplined disposition. The other two more common approaches are taken with the aim of getting rid of an itch through action, but \u2018To scratch or not to scratch?\u2019 That is the question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n If we scratch, and let\u2019s face it, itches scream out for us to do so, then it\u2019s possible there won\u2019t be any consequences, but for intense ones there often are. These may range from physical damage to infection, and more intense bouts of itching later. As we experience some of these more negative effects, we may learn not to indulge the itch so readily in future and this process may well bring us to the third approach. This one tends to avoid scratching completely and turn to other less damaging remedies. The problem is, no matter how well we know the consequences of scratching, sometimes we still can\u2019t stop ourselves. In those moments, are we simply victims of biology or is there something in our psyche that wants to damage ourselves?<\/p>\n\n\n\n In terms of an itch being an \u2018uncontrollable urge\u2019, we could argue that physiologically the itch may appear to \u2018force\u2019 us to scratch ourselves, but if we were faced with execution if we did so, we\u2019d probably somehow manage to resist it. In other words, it\u2019s not completely uncontrollable. This shows that there\u2019s a trade-off going on when we decide to scratch or not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The problem with itch-type metaphors is they have their limitations as things get a bit more complicated when we try to apply them to many aspects of our lives that involve urges. After all, if someone is attracted to members of their own sex, then the main reason to resist these urges is societally based. In this situation, it is the social issues that will cause the damage not necessarily the sexual ones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As you can see, when it comes to mixing or taking metaphors too literally one must always take care, otherwise, you might find yourself up a tree without a paddle which might leave you screw loose and fancy-free, but obviously, we\u2019ll burn that bridge when we come to it. Sorry, I seem to have bitten off the wrong end of the stick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Visiting Universities<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n As the end of my schooldays at Wilson\u2019s loomed, it was time to look at all the options available to me. I\u2019d already checked out Chelsea School of Art but there were still several universities on my list to view. My choices weren\u2019t solely based on their educational facilities, but partly about getting away from home. I\u2019d applied to Leicester, Bangor, and Edinburgh, none of which were close by. However, as Edinburgh had asked for such high grades, I didn\u2019t even think about travelling up to check it out, still, as I would easily get the grades for Bangor and Leicester, I thought it best to visit them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Leicester University<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The National Express Coach Service was a big thing in the 1980s and for me, they\u2019d be my main means of long-distance transport for the next five years. The central depot in London was near Victoria train station, so I made my way there by train and then walked a few hundred metres to get to it. I bought my ticket and then waited in a grubby waiting room which felt like being in a grimy black-and-white world where only the cashiers were in colour behind their toughened glass screens. Everything felt sticky and smelled of diesel. After a few other trips I learned not to wait there but instead go to a caf\u00e9 just around the corner on Elizabeth Street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My day trip to Leicester University was the first time I\u2019d used the National Express Service. To me it felt like going on a school coach trip, so, as the bus pulled out of the dark underground garage and into the bright morning air, I looked up and down the central gangway to see if there was anyone I could chat to. Fate had it that just one row back from me, on the other side of the aisle, a girl with short dark wavy hair, very white skin and wearing a grey duffle coat was looking at a Leicester University prospectus.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAre you going to the University open day too?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She slowly looked up, spent a second or two assessing me, and laughed, \u201cHow did you guess?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I got out of my seat and moved to the row behind me and that\u2019s how I met Cathy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n When we got to the university\u2019s open-day assembly point, Cathy and I were initially put in the same group. Given we didn\u2019t know anyone else there, we quickly slipped into a faux old-friends mode, complete with knowing looks and rolling eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The first part of the day involved being shown around the campus by a second-year student who was appropriately worldly-wise and jaded enough to give us a less-than-magnificent view of what it was really like to study there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As the first section of our tour ended, he announced, \u201cWell, here we are at the canteen, this is where I\u2019ll be leaving you for an hour. As you can see there aren\u2019t many students here, only those who\u2019ve spent all their grants on booze or records. Those with the dosh don\u2019t nosh here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n One of our group politely put his hand up, but didn\u2019t wait to be acknowledged and shouted out, \u201cWell, where do you suggest we eat then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHere, of course!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, that way you\u2019ll know what\u2019s in store if you want to spend all your money on booze and albums.\u201d He looked at one of the other students. \u201cWon\u2019t they Jake?\u201d Jake pushed some air up into his upper lips, raised his eyebrows and mouthed, \u2018Fuck off.\u201d At which point they both laughed at each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As we queued, the few other students in the canteen eyed us down, curious for new meat or someone to laugh at. The food on offer was similar to our school dinners. Burgers, chips, pizza, baked potato, but no healthy vegetables.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cathy and I sat opposite each other. After finishing my first bite I said, \u201cI quite like the food here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cReally?\u201d Her eyes widened in disbelief.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah, it\u2019s nice. I could easily live off this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She leant back as if to get more distance between us. \u201cBloody hell, I guess that means you\u2019ll be buying lots of records and getting drunk all the time, then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, I\u2019ll be buying records.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo, you don\u2019t drink?\u201d She asked, sounding even more surprised.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot really, I don\u2019t like wine or beer, but I do like Babycham and Snowballs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cathy shook her head, again in disbelief, and laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n The afternoon section was directed towards the faculties we were interested in. So, from that point on, Cathy and I went our separate ways, but not before swapping numbers though. I was now part of a much smaller group and taken to the university\u2019s central building which was a tower block with a paternoster lift at its centre. This is the kind of lift that continually moves and has no doors. For me, it was the stuff of nightmares as to mount it you must time your step just right, if you don\u2019t you could drop into the cabin, or worse still find half your body isn\u2019t all the way in. Hopefully, this would trigger the safety device to stop the whole lift system immediately, however, if that were to fail, you\u2019d most likely find half your body remains on the floor you were on, while the other ascends at least part of your journey heavenwards. For all my fears, we were bounding on and off it without hesitation within minutes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As the afternoon drew to its conclusion, we were invited to meet the heads of departments and the first one I saw was a man in his 60s who seemed a bit eccentric. We chatted about why I wanted to do philosophy and of course, I didn\u2019t tell him the truth, but quickly diverted the conversation to a book I was reading, \u201cZen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDo you know it?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He seemed interested, \u201cNo, what\u2019s it about\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s about a university lecturer who has a nervous breakdown when he realises what he\u2019s teaching isn\u2019t true.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He remained silent for a second and smiled, \u201cHow fascinating, but what is the connection between motorbikes and Zen\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, I\u2019ve only just started reading it, but so far it\u2019s very interesting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He smiled again, this time with an air of \u2018time\u2019s up\u2019, and added, \u201cI shall have to look it up,\u201d He stood up, shook my arm and thanked me. I thanked him back and then made my way to my final \u2018interview\u2019. This time it was with the head of the psychology department, Ann Taylor Davies who I seemed to hit it off with immediately. For me, it might have been because she was attractive, but to her, it most likely came from a caring place where she realised I might need extra support when it came to attending university. I didn\u2019t know it then, but outside of her academic pursuits, she was involved with singing and the theatre. Maybe there was a recognition between us of a love for life that was also behind that connection, but either way, it was a memorable moment for both of us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A few weeks after this meeting she sent me a letter saying she wanted me to be a student in her department and offered me a place provided I scored two C\u2019s and a D. Given I already had a C for Art, getting another C and a D was well within my abilities. So, from that point on I saw myself living in Leicester.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n A few days after the Leicester visit, I called Cathy, or she called me. Either way, she came down for the afternoon, so we had a walk around Carshalton Park, took some photos and chatted. There wasn\u2019t any romantic interest between us, but there was something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Friendships Between Men and Women Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n You may remember I mentioned Plato believed women and men couldn\u2019t be true friends, especially if they played roles with each other, such as husband and wife or parent and child. Even if this is true, and I doubt it is, dismissing a friendship simply because it isn\u2019t of the highest order doesn\u2019t mean it still can\u2019t be of enormous value. In Plato\u2019s time, gender had strict definitions and roles, whereas in today\u2019s world gender is far less clearly defined. Even so, no matter how much of our gender\u2019s roles are defined by social constructs, they are still partly determined by our biological sex too. My point being that friendships between opposite sexes are going to be partly affected by our biological sex. On top of that, when people previously thought it inappropriate to have friendships between members of the opposite sex, they either ignored or didn\u2019t consider the prevalence of bi or homosexual relationships. Had they done so then maybe all friendships would have been seen as potential opportunities for sexual infidelity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Given all the above, what might have been a more accurate approach to all friendships would have been determining whether or not those involved had any sexual interest in each other. Obviously, that\u2019s a hard one to measure because even if initially people don\u2019t, such feelings may develop over time anyway. For all this, having someone hovering near our partners who might be a sexual contender, same-sex or not, goes against our biological grain. We are built to keep others away, it\u2019s in our DNA, however, this doesn\u2019t mean we should give into these feelings and try our best to prevent our partners from ever meeting anyone else. Still, ignoring such issues won\u2019t make them go away either. Perhaps a more realistic approach when there\u2019s a threat that someone may betray us is to let go and accept if they do, then either deal with it somehow or acknowledge the relationship wasn\u2019t meant to be. As with all these things, such a response would be very hard to put into practice, but maybe having that as something to aspire to, is far better than believing we must punish those who betray us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn and Bill<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n A few days after the garden incident, Evelyn phoned me. Mum answered and called me down. She put her hand over the mouthpiece, \u201cIt\u2019s Evelyn, she sounds very upset.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I took the receiver and said hello.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEvelyn, is that you?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I could hear her crying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSorry,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t know why he was like that,\u201d she paused again, \u201cI didn\u2019t mean for you to get caught up in it. You looked so worried when you left.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI was, but I was also scared he\u2019d hit you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She didn\u2019t say anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I thought I\u2019d be more direct, \u201cDid he hit you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In a cold tone, she said, \u201cNo, he didn\u2019t, but I wanted him to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I couldn\u2019t understand and asked why.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBecause I wanted to see how little I felt.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t know what to say, and sensing that, she continued.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBefore we moved something was already wrong, maybe that\u2019s why we moved.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She then mumbled, \u201cI don\u2019t know what\u2019s wrong with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I could hear her trembling so asked, \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ve got everything I could want. Well, everything I thought I wanted at least, but something\u2019s missing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDo you know what that is?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She half cried, half laughed, \u201cI don\u2019t, I wish I did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her voice became more matter-of-fact, \u201cAnyway, he\u2019s told me I mustn\u2019t see you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy, surely he doesn\u2019t think anything is going on between us?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, but I don\u2019t think he likes the way we get on. He doesn\u2019t believe men and women can be friends unless one of them is gay.\u201d She paused and laughed, \u201cAre you gay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, but I could pretend if that would help.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, you do make me laugh\u201d, then her voice saddened, \u201cI\u2019m going to miss that, and you, so much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, I\u2019ll miss you too\u201d, I said, although I couldn\u2019t help but think, \u201cI won\u2019t miss all this hassle though.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maybe to cover that thought, I quickly added, \u201cMaybe we can bump into each other, you know, accidentally?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She laughed and said, \u201cI\u2019ll see, but for now it\u2019s better if you don\u2019t come around.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I probably should\u2019ve protested a little more, but instead said, \u201cOkay, I\u2019m sorry if I\u2019ve caused you a problem.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPlease, Simon, it\u2019s not your fault, I\u2019m so sorry you\u2019ve been caught up in all of this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m sorrier,\u201d I said laughing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I could feel her smile, \u201cThank you for cheering me up. I better go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not wanting to prolong the goodbye any further I replied, \u201cOkay, bye for now, I\u2019m here if you need anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She whispered, \u201cThank you. Bye-bye.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And like the fade out of a record, I whispered back an even quieter goodbye and then the phone went dead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I should have felt sad, but I was overcome with relief. Okay, I was a little sad too, but, as much as I liked Evelyn\u2019s company, Bill scared me and I didn\u2019t want any more stress, especially with my exams coming up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jealousy \u2013 Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I wonder now if Bill\u2019s resistance to Evelyn and I being friends wasn\u2019t so much about feeling threatened in sexual terms. After all, I wasn\u2019t quite a man and didn\u2019t have any sexual prowess for him to worry about. But maybe our friendship challenged the structure of his inner world. If, for him, women had their domain while men had theirs then, when it came to these two emotional worlds, never the twain should meet. Therefore, if Evelyn were to discover that men could talk openly about their more sensitive feelings after all, what might she expect from him? Of course, I don\u2019t know what was going on, but it certainly wasn\u2019t just about a sexual threat. For many of us who ever feel insecure in a relationship, it may well manifest itself in fantasies of sexual infidelity, but often the cause is far more subtle. There\u2019s also an expectation that we ought to be able to give our partners everything they need because if we can\u2019t, that\u2019d mean others may have to be involved, and if that happens then it\u2019s possible, they\u2019d steal them away from us. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In some ways, there\u2019s some logic to this and our biology tends to push us towards such beliefs, but the consequence of following these urges will most likely lead to damaging the relationship with our loved ones anyway. If we attempt to isolate those we love, so no one else can tempt them away, then it will only be a matter of time before their resentment builds up, and the emotional distance between us and them intensifies further still. This may lead to an ever-increasing dynamic of constriction, resentment, and insecurity until eventually either the possessor successfully contains the possessed, or they escape, but either way, there won\u2019t be much love left in the relationship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn could feel the grip of Bill\u2019s fingers around her throat, across her mouth, and over her eyes. The tighter he held her the more she wanted to get away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Latvia 1941 – Bettie\u2019s Story – Intersectionality Part 4<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n It has always mystified me as to why the Jews have been so persecuted, not only throughout history, but even today in 2022, the Internet is filled with theories about the Jews being a malevolent force that controls the world. If that\u2019s what you believe you may be thinking, \u201cWell it\u2019s true,\u201d but I\u2019d argue that while it\u2019s true that Jewish people are disproportionately more successful in the top end of the financial sector, those who control the world are very diverse. White Americans, Chinese, Arabs, Russians, Europeans, and many more, all of whom come from various religious and cultural backgrounds control the world. Therefore, pointing the finger solely at Jewish people seems skewed to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I have read many articles that go into detail as to why this antisemitism happens but the reason I bring it up now, outside of it relating to the stories here, is to reiterate just how easy it is to turn people against each other. All of us are susceptible to it, even when we\u2019re aware of the processes involved. If you take a moment to be honest with yourself, can you not recall even a fleeting thought that the world would be a better place if certain types of didn\u2019t exist in it?<\/p>\n\n\n\n I have spoken a few times about psychopaths being an issue when it comes to ideologies. By doing that I treated psychopaths as entities that were separate from everyone else in society. However, the Nazi\u2019s manipulation of the masses highlighted just how easy it is to turn ordinary people who have never shown any pre-disposition for psychopathy to kill or harm others without remorse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s often a confusion between envy and jealousy and that\u2019s partly because in some ways they overlap. While jealousy is more about feelings concerning other beings and envy has more to do with things or status, things and status can often make us feel more lovable. Jealousy can be about the resources held back by those we love, while envy can also be caused by resources being handed out to others, and not ourselves, by those whom we believe should appreciate us too. When we don\u2019t feel fairly appreciated it doesn\u2019t take much for our anger to kick in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In Latvia, the Jewish community was perceived by the wider community as looking after itself and not sharing its resources beyond its members. As early as the mid-19th century the Jews there had developed health care systems, including hospitals, doctors and cheap, if not free, medicines and soup kitchens for the poor. They\u2019d created volunteer fire services, old people\u2019s homes, schools, social clubs, loan cooperatives, and trade colleges amongst many other things. Consequently, this meant they were seen as a separate society within Latvia. Was this because the Jews wanted to keep themselves separate, or was it the non-Jews who forced this segregation in the first place? It was probably a bit of both, as each viewpoint would have easily encouraged the other from the outset. Either way, Jewish people were seen as the \u201cother\u201d in Latvia, and most of the world, so all it took was a little push from the Nazis to get the hatred rolling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n You may remember I previously mentioned the Nazis planned to also exterminate most of the non-Jewish inhabitants of the Baltic states too, so if ever there was an illustration of oppressed groups being pitted against each other by their oppressors, this was it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie\u2019s Story \u2013 4 AM<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n It was approaching 4 am and the temperature had dropped below freezing. The supervisor told the crowd that the first trucks would be arriving shortly to take the workers to their dormitories. Everyone in that line was asked to pass their cases towards the front so they could be loaded on first. Just after 4:15, the trucks arrived, and the cases were loaded. Then the members of the factory worker line walked towards the trucks where they climbed aboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It should have been no surprise that the woman would try to get Bettie barred from the factory worker trucks, and she did. This time though the supervisor said to Bettie, \u201cListen, let me get your cases, they\u2019ll be the last to have gone on, and why not take the next truck, or maybe even just go to the riverside houses and have a few days holiday there?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie was so tired and wanted to get away from this horrible woman, so relented, \u201cI\u2019ll wait here, I\u2019m sure my husband will be coming soon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThank you,\u201d the supervisor said appreciatively.<\/p>\n\n\n\n So, her cases were recovered, and Bettie waited to the side for Chanan to arrive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n From then on, a truck would arrive every 30 minutes to take 20 people at a time to the riverside houses. By 8 am just a handful of people remained, and they were informed that the next truck would come in an hour. Bettie felt a sense of relief because Chanan would be there by then and he could take her to the factory dormitory himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n At 9 am the truck arrived. This time instead of Latvian police officers getting out of it five German soldiers and an SS Officer did. The police supervisor approached them, and he and the SS officer spoke for a minute then the officer ordered the remaining group to come to the truck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie stayed behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The morning sky was breaking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The SS officer came up to Bettie and said, \u201cI am sorry, you will have to come with us, we cannot wait for your husband, and we cannot risk you being attacked if you walk alone. I am sure you can organise something with your husband tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie started to cry, \u201cPlease, can we wait a few more minutes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, we must go now. I doubt your husband will get here; the streets are too dangerous for Jews. Come with us, you will be safe and tomorrow we can work something out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She knew he was right so said, \u201cOkay,\u201d and got on the truck with the others. The back door panel clanged as it shut and within seconds the truck set off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn and Bill<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n A month had passed since the \u2018goodbye\u2019 phone call and I was sure we\u2019d bump into each other at the bus stop or walking to or from the high street as we had done so often before, and sure enough, we did. But I couldn\u2019t help but feel anxious whenever this occurred as at any moment, I believed Bill would drive past and there\u2019d be another altercation, so we played safe and just chatted for a few minutes and then went our separate ways. Then one day, probably because she could see how uncomfortable I was, she said, \u201cYou look worried, don\u2019t, he\u2019s not going to do anything to you, I won\u2019t let him.\u201d This didn\u2019t reassure me, and I said so. Evelyn asked what I was doing. So, I told her I was going to the library. She sighed then asked, \u201cDo you fancy meeting me for a cuppa in The Secombe Centre?\u201d She straightened her body and took a big breath, \u201cI\u2019m not having him tell me who I can be friends with, I\u2019ve had enough!\u201d Not wanting to spoil the moment, but not feeling as brave as she was, I said, \u201cOkay, I\u2019ll see you there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A few hours later I made my way to the centre and waited. Not long after I arrived, Evelyn turned up. We got ourselves some hot chocolate and sat at a small white round table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHow have things been since I last saw you?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAwful, really awful,\u2019 She almost gasped for air, \u2018He\u2019s so controlling. He thinks I\u2019m going to run off with someone. I don\u2019t know where this has all come from.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I shrugged. \u201cMaybe he\u2019s sensing you\u2019re feeling detached, and that\u2019s making him panic so now he\u2019s trying to hold on to you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, I think you\u2019re right, but the more he does it, the more I want to go.\u201d She laughed, but it felt exasperated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy was he so funny about me?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI think he sees everyone as a threat, even my female friends.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m naively a little shocked, \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah, I think he\u2019s gone a bit crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sometimes madness comes from a glimpse of the truth. <\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Cathy<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Cathy invited me to a ball in a pub in Wimbledon Village but when we got there, we both felt like outsiders. There was a load of other kids who, as much as they tried to include us, were on a different wavelength and this brought Cathy and I closer together. We left early and went back to her parents\u2019 place where we chatted till the early hours. I was given a sofa bed to sleep on in the study and it was at that point I decided to set up my ZX-81 computer, which I then played with till the sun came up. This was rather inconsiderate as Cathy was hoping I\u2019d get up earlier than I did, but still, we didn\u2019t fall out and ended up remaining friends for many years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Alone \u2013 Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n When we make plans, we rarely factor in the long periods we\u2019ll spend by ourselves during the process of the plan unfolding. What we also often don\u2019t realise is just how important those times are, both in the way we react to being alone and what we do with the feelings and thoughts it evokes. In the earlier chapter about love, I spent some time focusing on this issue, and sure enough, no matter how far I tried to get away from home, those feelings were not going to get left behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bangor University<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Bangor University is situated in the northwest of Wales and at around 300 miles away from Wallington; it was perfect given I wanted to get away from home. By car, it would take at least five hours to get there but what I hadn\u2019t factored in was that by National Express coach it would be a 14-hour journey. By the time I tried stepping off the bus my leg muscles had almost atrophied to nothing. Still, I managed to find a taxi rank where a couple of drivers stood in the evening light, smoking and chatting together. They both looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou after a taxi mate?\u201d one of them asked in a strong Welsh accent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, I haven\u2019t got to go far, it\u2019s Mrs Jones\u2019 B&B, on Ffordd Siliwen,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They smiled at my pronunciation then one of the men nodded at the other as if to say, \u201cYou can have this one\u201d. The other threw his cigarette to the ground and swivelled his foot on it, as if he was just about to break into a Latin dance routine he\u2019d watched on TV the previous week.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, I can take you there, let me take your bag.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As we drove to the B&B every building looked dark and wet, and as the sky turned ever blacker, instead of finding it sinister I felt at home. He asked me why I was there and after I told him he looked at me slightly sternly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAs long as you\u2019re not here to buy a holiday home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I shook my head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He continued. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a problem here with that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I thought it best to reassure him. \u201cDon\u2019t worry, I can\u2019t afford a holiday, let alone a home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I couldn\u2019t help but warm to his directness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I arrived at Mrs Jones\u2019s I was worried I was just about to be admonished for being late but as soon as I apologised, she reassured me. \u201cAww, don\u2019t worry, we\u2019ve kept your dinner warm for you. We know the coach from London comes in late, you\u2019re not the first.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She took me to my room, where I dropped my things off, then brought me down to the dining room and switched on the fluorescent lights. My immediate impression of the room was yellow cloth, white patterned tabletops, wooden sideboards and a dark red carpet. Homely and disturbing all at once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWould you like me to cut your food up?\u201d She asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m fine thank you, although I use a dessert spoon to eat with.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She opened a drawer and passed me one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLike this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I smiled \u201cYes, that\u2019s perfect.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She smiled back, \u201cWell, I\u2019ll leave you to it, give me a call when you\u2019ve finished, and I\u2019ll get your pudding for you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As I sat there eating alone, albeit, with a very caring host, I suddenly felt a long way from home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn and Bill<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n When I next saw Evelyn and Bill it was by coincidence at the funfair in Carshalton Park. You may remember this incident as I mentioned it in a previous chapter so don\u2019t worry, you\u2019re not having a deja-vu moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Anyway, I thought I\u2019d try to approach them as if nothing had happened and at first Bill seemed to be back to his friendly self. It was only when he and I got seated together on one of the rides that it became apparent things weren\u2019t as resolved as I\u2019d hoped. I noticed his face darken, and as it did, mine whitened. Meanwhile, Evelyn, who was watching from the sidelines, was staring at Bill with an expression of pure anger. Bill turned to me and said, \u201cThere\u2019s nothing I wouldn\u2019t do to stop someone coming between my wife and me and damaging my family.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I tried to remain calm but I\u2019m sure I shook slightly as I said, \u201cYes, I can completely understand that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGood,\u201d he said, \u201cas long as we understand each other.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I got home, I felt traumatised. It was partially caused by the threat of violence, but looking back, encountering an archetype in action manifested through Bill\u2019s jealous rage, though understandable, was frightening not just because of what dangers were before me, but also, because subconsciously I knew that same madness resided in me too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Alone \u2013 Part 2<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n A friend of mine told me the other day she felt bad because whenever she managed to find time for herself, she\u2019d end up wasting it. She asked if I ever did the same, \u201cAll the time,\u201d I said, which made her feel much better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In 1983, when I should have been revising, I\u2019d often start playing inane computer games on my ZX-81 and find hours would pass before I\u2019d finally get down to doing any revision. It\u2019s possible the trauma of Bill\u2019s threats caused me to lose my focus, or maybe this was an innate ability, a self-destructive urge from the depths that would have been there anyway. It may, of course, be as simple as being seduced by the pleasure of play. Whatever the reason, I certainly didn\u2019t work as hard as I should have. Still, given my desire to get away from home, it didn\u2019t make any sense to scupper my chances of doing so by not studying, but I didn\u2019t do anywhere near the amount of revision I should have. Of course, it\u2019s also possible I had mixed feelings and part of me didn\u2019t want to escape to Leicester or Bangor after all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nowadays, I like time by myself, but there\u2019s so much to amuse myself with, emails, social media, videos, and TV streaming services, that I still have to kick myself into getting on with work. Back then in 1983, I just started playing with computers, but before that, there\u2019d been music and being creative and of course avoiding being alone by seeing friends.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jealousy – Part 2<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n At the time, I didn\u2019t know just how overwhelming jealousy could be, but a decade or so later I would be touched by its madness. Perhaps if I\u2019d known how devastating it can be, I\u2019d have had more sympathy for Bill, but back then it appeared more like a clash of ideologies than something deeply ingrained in our instincts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A few weeks earlier I\u2019d been in another neighbour\u2019s house and the husband started ranting in a very cockney accent, \u201cDare\u2019s a simpul ansa to dis unemploymun issue.\u201d His wife rolled her eyes and interjected, \u201cHere he goes.\u201d He cocked his head dismissively towards her. \u201cJust coz you doe-n like it doe-n make it wong. Anyways, as I was sayin\u2019. Der reason we got all dis unemploymen is coz womin are workin nahwa. When dey were at \u2018ome looin\u2019 afer dare men dare were pleney of jobs for ever-we-one, wen I say ever-we-one, I mean all deh men, obiously.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBloody hell,\u201d his wife said, \u201cI\u2019m very glad you\u2019re not the Prime Minister.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIf I was\u201d, he nodded as if he was just about to impart a great pearl of wisdom, \u201cda countried be salted out in nah time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As much as I thought he was talking shit, I did appreciate his candour. Even so, this was a period of political and social upheaval, and women\u2019s rights were right at the forefront. So, when Bill started to control Evelyn, in my mind it was as much a matter of political principle as it was a clash of deep and complex emotional needs between two people. Maybe it was the simplicity of the notion of a clash of ideologies that made only seeing it in that way so appealing. But now with hindsight, I wish I could have viewed it more from a psychological rather than a political perspective.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The inevitable outcome of all this was Evelyn got so angry and resentful she couldn\u2019t help but stand up to Bill. But, when it comes to relationships, focusing on power tends to lead to even greater divisions, and the consequence of that is ultimately even more separation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n 2020 – Green Man Dream<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n In this dream, a green man with short arms like mine, no legs and a large cucumber coming out of his stomach was chasing me and my partner. He shouted that women were bent on hurting him. I tried to pacify him by explaining that maybe if they were, it wasn\u2019t on purpose. This made him even angrier and want to hurt me. I felt very threatened, so, tried to get away but it felt like there was no escape.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The dream then jumped to me being at an airport waiting for a plane. A woman came up to me and kissed me. As she did, I felt her pickpocket me. Without any guilt, I got my security detail to kill her and get my passport and tickets back. To me, she deserved what she got. Shortly afterwards other attackers tried to kill us, but my security detail quickly killed them. By the way, in real life, I don\u2019t have a security detail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We then made our way toward the plane, which involved going down a slope, as we did a man dressed in dark clothes tried to kill me, I managed to get out of the way, but I became filled with anger as the security detail were no longer protecting us from him. As we continued running the little green man kept catching up with us. I managed to do some acrobatic jumps down several flights of stairs. Even so, although we managed to get some distance away from the man in black, the green legless one caught up and started to throw bits of metal at us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Before you start to wonder, I didn\u2019t eat any cheese before I went to bed that night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n 1983 – Bangor University<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n When I woke up the next morning, I opened the curtains to see a small garden, beyond which there was a white cottage and below that the sea and an ornate pier jutting into it. As I got myself ready, I placed my headphones into a red velvet-covered metal bin to see if I could create a rudimentary speaker, I doubt it made any difference, but I pretended it did and listened to Terry Wogan on the radio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mrs Jones knocked on the door, \u201cBreakfast will be ready in ten minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I politely shouted back, \u201cThank you, I\u2019ll be there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just before I set off for my day at the university, she let me know there wasn\u2019t going to be an evening meal that night. I hadn\u2019t expected the first one, so didn\u2019t feel I was missing out. \u201cIf you want to get something from the chippy, you\u2019re very welcome to bring it back here,\u201d she said. I thanked her and made my way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I\u2019d visited Leicester University it\u2019d been a sunny day, and things tend to look a lot better in strong sunlight, but as I approached the university it was cloudy in Bangor, \u201cIt was probably always cloudy here.\u201d I thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was one of a handful of prospective students who\u2019d come to look around, and probably, partly as a reaction to the poor turnout, it didn\u2019t take long to be shown around the campus and if there was an interview, I didn\u2019t notice it happening. The tour ended with us being brought to the student canteen and offered a free meal. By the time those who had only come for the day rushed off to get home, I was left alone to eat my dinner. For a few minutes, I keenly felt my solitude, not just in me, but also in the eyes of the students at the other tables. I decided to look up from my plate and as I did, I caught the eye of one of the psychology first-year students I\u2019d met earlier. She smiled, waved at me and beckoned me over to her table. I picked up my tray and joined her. Her name was Michaela, she looked Middle-Eastern, Jewish or Indian, she was so beautiful that every time I looked at her, I melted a little. We chatted for a while and spoke as if we\u2019d be seeing each other after the summer break. She then walked me to the Student Union Bar, where we had a quick drink and then saying she might be back in the evening, she went off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sat at a table and watched a group of young men playing pool then went to the jukebox and selected the Eagle\u2019s song, \u201cNew Kid in Town\u201d, but no one got the hint. I\u2019d listened to the songs of a thousand singers telling me about the countless worlds full of sunshine and love waiting to be discovered, but the ones I kept coming across were dark and rainy. The song ended, and the pool boys left the bar, I looked out the window, finished my drink and took myself on a long walk up one of the local hills. As I strolled alone, I took photos and pretended I\u2019d just climbed Snowdonia. As the sun started setting, I made my way back to the student bar hoping Michaela would turn up, but after a couple of hours, I realised she probably wasn\u2019t. I wondered if the student canteen was open and failing that was going to take Mrs Jones\u2019 advice and go to the chippy. As I got up from my chair, a black man with glasses came up to me and in an African accent asked, \u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d I told him and explained why I was there. \u201cDo you mind if I join you?\u201d He smiled. I tried not to sound too eager, \u201cPlease do.\u201d We hit it off right away and after an hour or so I mentioned I ought to go get some food. \u201cI have food at my place, please be my guest, I have too much and would like to share it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n To you and me now, we probably can\u2019t help but think this was a ploy to pick me up, but back then it didn\u2019t cross my mind. So, we walked to his flat where he prepared a meal, showing me how a cuppa soup sachet made for a cheap and easy way of flavouring chicken. We chatted and laughed and as the evening drew on, I realised the student bar would now be closed and I couldn\u2019t help but wonder if Michaela had turned up after all. My new friend and I exchanged addresses and as I walked away from his place into the cold misty night, he shouted, \u201cI will see you next term, my new friend.\u201d I looked back, waved and said, \u201cSee you then.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was something about Bangor I loved, it had a solitude that reeked of intimacy, but in my heart, it was Leicester I wanted to go to. Even so, I felt sad as I waved goodbye. In that one day, I\u2019d made several new connections and I liked how that made me feel, and even now, 41 years later, I remember them clearly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn and Bill<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n As much as I enjoyed Evelyn\u2019s company and believed she had the right to choose her friends as she wished, Bill\u2019s threat stuck in my mind, so, I avoided her. Likewise, not wanting to make things worse for either of us as well, she didn\u2019t seek me out either. Still, living so close, it was hard to avoid each other completely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A week after the funfair incident I was by myself in the caf\u00e9 in Sutton Library.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs it okay if I join you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I looked around, it was Evelyn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, of course,\u201d I said, \u201cshall I get you a tea?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ve already ordered one, they\u2019ll bring it over in a minute\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn sat down next to me, touched my leg and smiled a sad smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHave you been avoiding me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I shook my head unconvincingly, \u201cNo, not at all.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n Almost whispering, she put her hand on my arm, \u201cI don\u2019t blame you, I bet you think I\u2019m trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, you\u2019re not,\u201d I lied, \u201cbut I\u2019m worried about causing problems between you and Bill. And I\u2019m a bit worried about him \u2018dealing\u2019 with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The waitress brought Evelyn\u2019s drink over so we both stopped talking and in unison thanked her. After she left, Evelyn laughed and said, \u201cWhat are you thanking her for, it\u2019s my tea?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Still slowly moving her head from side to side disapprovingly, she said, \u201cI don\u2019t believe it!\u201d in an exasperated tone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat?\u201d My heart sank. Because I knew exactly what it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn quickly instructed me in a hushed voice, \u201cJust look at me. Don\u2019t look around.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I could feel my head wanting to turn. As if telling a dog not to move she continued, \u201cDon\u2019t! Just pretend you\u2019re laughing and having a good time.\u201d She mimed laughing, I mimed laughing too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I kept facing Evelyn, \u201cIt\u2019s Bill, isn\u2019t it, he\u2019s watching us, isn\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She nodded very slightly, then as if saying something funny added, \u201cI know, why do you think I\u2019m pretending to laugh.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We both continued our laughing charade, which was so ridiculous it turned into genuine laughter, well, at least for a couple of seconds. Then Evelyn picked up her cup, put it in front of her mouth and feigned drinking it while speaking still. \u201cI\u2019m going to drink this and go.\u201d She swigged back her tea, stood up, kissed me on my cheek then headed in Bill\u2019s direction. I pretended to look round at Evelyn and caught a glimpse of Bill. His head was up against the glass while his hand shielded the reflections. He may have been staring at me or following Evelyn\u2019s path, I couldn\u2019t tell. Either way, I was filled with fear. The sun shone brightly through the window Bill was up against, so, as Evelyn got to him it was as if I was watching a silhouetted puppet theatre. There were finger wags and pointing, a grab, a pull, a push, and finally, still arguing, they exited stage left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a Citizen\u2019s Advice just under the library, so, feeling a bit traumatised, I thought I\u2019d ask what they thought about Bill following me everywhere and threatening me. Nowadays, in 2022, they\u2019d probably tell me that threatening me and making me feel scared is against the law and the police may well have a word with him. But back then, in 1983, the woman looked at me, shook her head in disbelief and said, \u201cPerhaps you might want to consider keeping away from married women.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n 1941 – Bettie\u2019s Story<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n When the Germans occupied Lithuania, which neighboured Latvia, they found thousands of Jews had already been murdered by their non-Jewish neighbours. The Germans tried to stir up pogroms in Latvia against the Jews but overall, this was unsuccessful. Even so, the Germans didn\u2019t find any resistance either.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When Chanan walked towards the police station to meet Bettie, he was stopped at the first checkpoint where he was ordered to either go straight to his apartment or the factory. When he started to argue that he needed to meet his wife, one of the guards started to tap his truncheon against his outer thigh. Chanan could hear gunshots and screams in the distance and knew it best to do as he\u2019d been told. Bettie, he told himself, was better off being in the protective custody of the police right now, but he couldn\u2019t help but feel guilty that he hadn\u2019t got to meet up with her as planned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Even though the residents had been evacuated Chanan decided to head back to their apartment. When he got there, he cleaned Bettie\u2019s teacup, got into their bed, pulled the covers around his fully clothed body, pulled her pillow to his face, and breathed in the scent of her. His eyes closed and within minutes fell asleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn and Bill<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n As much as I tried to keep away from Evelyn, I was also aware she found some solace in our friendship. So, when she called me a few weeks later and asked to meet up, I told her I was too scared to do so, especially in public. She paused for a while then asked, \u201cHow about if you go to one of my friend\u2019s houses and I\u2019ll meet you there, my friend will be there too, so we\u2019ll be safe. If you arrive before me and leave after, even if he follows me, he won\u2019t know you\u2019re there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n So, that\u2019s what we did, and all went well till Evelyn\u2019s friend had to go out to pick her kids up from school. Within two minutes there was a loud bang on the door, followed by Bill\u2019s voice bellowing through the letterbox, \u201cI know you\u2019re in there Evelyn, and I know who you\u2019re with.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We then heard the side gate open and as we were in the back room which had glass doors we ran to the front room and hid behind the sofa. I whispered, \u201cIf those doors are unlocked and he finds us here it\u2019s going to look bad.\u201d Evelyn shushed me. I could hear him trying the doors and wondered if he\u2019d break the glass, but then all he had to do was wait till Evelyn\u2019s friend got back and ask to come in. Evelyn started to cry. \u201cI can\u2019t believe this. It\u2019s ridiculous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a picture leaning against the wall, in it, I could see the reflection of the front room windows. Bill\u2019s face suddenly appeared and moved from left to right. His head pushed up to the glass, trying to look through the net curtains. And then, he walked off. I heard the thud of his car door closing, the engine start, and, as if he\u2019d got another idea of where Evelyn was, he sped off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn whispered, \u201cI\u2019m going to go now, I\u2019ll go the long way back, that way, if he\u2019s waiting for me, he won\u2019t see me. If you stay for another hour, I think it should be safe. I\u2019m so sorry, I thought I hadn\u2019t been followed.\u201d I looked at Evelyn and took a breath, \u201cI think it might be better if we don\u2019t meet up for a while, this is making me a nervous wreck.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAren\u2019t I worth it?\u201d she laughed. I hesitated. She laughed again, \u201cYou\u2019ve got a lot to learn when it comes to women.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ve decided it might be easier to be gay after all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She smiled, kissed me goodbye and said, \u201cYou might be right\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn and I met up again two more times soon after this. The first was when she turned up on my doorstep crying. Mum let her in and we, my mum included, sat in the back room chatting. Mum made some tea and asked what was happening. A short while later, there was a bang on the door, and once again Bill\u2019s voice boomed through the letter box. Instead of hiding, Evelyn apologised and got up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI better go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAre you going to be safe?\u201d Mum asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn quietly wept, \u201cYeah, I think so. Thank you, Angela, for being so kind. Can you come to the door with me please?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mum put her arm around Evelyn and whispered, \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When the door opened, confronted with my mother and not me, you would have thought any fantasies of sexual infidelity would have been set aside. But still, I heard Bill ask if I was there too. I heard Mum say, \u201cDon\u2019t be so stupid, he\u2019s just a boy, what could she possibly see in him? They\u2019re just friends.\u201d And then they were gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was tempted to take issue with Mum about the \u201cWhat could she possibly see in him\u201d bit, but I just left it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The next meeting didn\u2019t end so well though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n June 1983 – Evelyn and Bill<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n My A-level exams were due to take place in July. By the middle of June, most of our revision lessons had come to an end, all that was left for us to do was go home and revise, revise, and revise but I soon slipped into my natural sleeping pattern, late to bed, late to rise. I\u2019d then play about a bit and revise into the early hours. I knew going to the library wasn\u2019t going to be productive, so for the next four weeks I understood there\u2019d have to be a serious curtailment to any socialising.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I wasn\u2019t studying, I\u2019d play games on my ZX-81 computer. The games were both graphically and intellectually very limited, but still, highly addictive. Sometimes it\u2019d be a struggle just to stop playing them and get on with revising, but mostly I was able to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One afternoon I looked out the window at the top of the stairs, and from it, I could see our road down to the high street. The sky was a yellowish grey, it looked like it might rain, and the air was warm. As I stood there avoiding studying as long as I could, I saw the top of Evelyn\u2019s head bobbing in and out of view above the roadside fence as she walked towards my place. I raced down the stairs and opened the front door. As she passed our gate I shouted, \u201cHello.\u201d She stopped and turned towards me, and laughed, \u201cSorry, I was in a world of my own, sorry. How are you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m okay, getting bored studying.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, I can imagine it must be horrible. I\u2019m just going to the park. Do you want to come with me? Bill\u2019s working somewhere far away so you\u2019ll be safe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOkay, hold on I\u2019ll just get my keys and I\u2019ll tell Mum where I\u2019m going.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n We walked to the park together while Evelyn did most of the talking about how things had been going. Unsurprisingly things hadn\u2019t got much better, and she was still angry at the way Bill had threatened me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI wouldn\u2019t mind if I\u2019d done something with someone, but it\u2019s not really about that,\u201d she said, \u201cit\u2019s about other things.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah,\u201d I said, \u201cit sounds like you\u2019re changing and he\u2019s finding that difficult.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah,\u201d she sighed \u201cexactly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n When we got to the park, we sat on a bench next to each other looking ahead and talking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn sighed, \u201cI love it here, it\u2019s so peaceful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t like this park much,\u201d I laughed, \u201cit reminds me of having nowhere better to go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn smiled, \u201cThat\u2019s because you\u2019ve grown up around here, but for me, it\u2019s a place I can escape to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the distance, we heard someone call out \u201cEvelyn\u201d. We both looked in the direction of the sound and could see Bill walking fast towards us. \u201cOh no,\u201d Evelyn said, which was about one-hundredth of what I was thinking. She let out a big sigh, stood up and faced Bill who was about 20 metres away by this point. His face was bright red with temper, and in a raised voice he spluttered. \u201cWhat is it with you two, why can\u2019t you leave each other alone?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe\u2019re just friends,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDon\u2019t do this Bill,\u201d Evelyn pleaded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Had I not been young or disabled, Bill would probably have clouted me at that point, but even though he was driven by madness he was still able to control himself. Perhaps it was these barriers, my vulnerability, that also partly fed his anger. He wanted to solve the problems with violence, but Evelyn being a woman, and me being \u2018untouchable\u2019 to a degree too meant the only options left were ones he wasn\u2019t so well equipped to deal with.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill grabbed Evelyn\u2019s arm and started to march her towards the gates. I didn\u2019t want to leave her but also felt there wasn\u2019t much I could do. I followed, albeit at a safe-ish distance but as we got to just outside the gates on Ruskin Road, I caught up. Bill turned to me and said, \u201cYou don\u2019t know what it\u2019s like, it\u2019s Simon this and Simon that, all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Indignant, Evelyn shouted, \u201cNo, it isn\u2019t, that\u2019s not true. You\u2019re not making things better by doing this Bill.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill looked at me, I could see his pallor change, he went almost white. I\u2019d read somewhere that this was a sign that someone was just about to strike, and it was at this point that all my years of doing karate came to nothing. True, I was faced with a man who was known for being a good fighter and I was still very much a boy. So, I doubt I\u2019d have had a chance against him at that age, no matter how much training I\u2019d have done. But, astoundingly, the course of action I took was beyond ridiculous. I decided to stand in a position I\u2019d read about in a 1950s self-defence book by Bruce Tegner, which involved pushing my potential striking arm against my other one, to build up some tension between them, so if a strike had to be made, there\u2019d be more power in it initially. In other words, it was a completely ineffectual technique. The only positive effect it had was my arm started to tremble under the tension which probably led Bill to believe I was shaking in fear, which I might have been doing anyway as well. It was exactly at this point that my friend Jim\u2019s mum walked past and stopped to ask if I was alright. I told her I was, but instead of walking off, she looked Bill up and down and just held her position.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill pointed his finger at me and said, \u201cKeep away from my wife.\u201d He then grabbed Evelyn by the arm again and attempted to march her off. She shook his arm from her and said, \u201cI\u2019ve had enough! I don\u2019t want to go back to the house now. Leave me alone!\u201d They then walked off in separate directions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jim\u2019s mum invited me to walk with her and have a cup of tea at her place, an offer I very gratefully accepted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn and Bill<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n When Evelyn went back to the house her first words were, \u201cWhere are the boys?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill came out of the kitchen; he was drying a plate with a red gingham tea towel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThey\u2019re at your mum\u2019s, I thought we better talk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOkay,\u201d Evelyn took off her coat and sat at the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill went back into the kitchen and put the plate on the rack, \u201cDo you want a cup of tea?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, I\u2019m okay, thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill came to the doorway and leaned against the frame, \u201cI don\u2019t understand what\u2019s going on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn half laughed, \u201cNeither do I\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill ran his hand through his hair, \u201cI don\u2019t understand why this isn\u2019t enough. We\u2019ve got a nice house and lovely kids. I thought I was enough for you. I can\u2019t see why you need anything more.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn looked into his eyes, \u201cThat\u2019s partly the problem, you don\u2019t understand that this isn\u2019t all I want. You can\u2019t give me everything I need. But that doesn\u2019t mean I don\u2019t love you, or the life we\u2019ve got, and it doesn\u2019t mean I\u2019m going to have sex with anyone else. Especially a schoolboy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill sat back, in his chair, \u201cI know, but still, it\u2019s just, I can\u2019t stand it when you want to spend time with other men. I know I should trust you, but,\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn laughed, \u201cYou don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill shook his head, \u201cWell, I want to, but there\u2019s a part of me that can\u2019t bear it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn looked straight into his eyes, \u201cIf you don\u2019t let me be me, then you\u2019re going to lose me. Is that what you want?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo, of course not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn pursed her lips together and nodded her head very slightly, \u201cOkay,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill looked confused, \u201cOkay what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ll have that cuppa now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n As Evelyn and Bill lay next to each other that night the moon shone a line of light from between the curtains across their bodies. They were physically close, but their minds were orbiting completely different worlds. Bill still didn\u2019t feel happy, but for the first time in weeks, he no longer felt the panic and fear that had accompanied his every moment. In fact, he didn\u2019t feel anything. Evelyn wanted things to go back to normal, but as much as she pleaded with herself to accept her lot, she knew she couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the middle of the night, Bill woke up with a start. He turned toward Evelyn and could hear her breathing was irregular. Her mouth was slightly open as she trembled and groaned slightly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEvelyn, wake up, wake up, you\u2019re having a nightmare.\u201d He put his hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly. Her eyes opened wide. She realised where she was. \u201cSorry, was I dreaming?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes,\u201d Bill nodded, \u201cIt\u2019s okay, I\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just a few months back there\u2019d been a time when Bill\u2019s power still excited and reassured her, but now, at the wrong end of it, it had lost its charm and constricted her so much she felt she barely existed anymore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fear<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Franklin D. Roosevelt\u2019s 1933 inaugural address included the lines, \u201cSo, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself\u201d. He wasn\u2019t the first to convey such a sentiment. Michel de Montaigne wrote in 1580, \u201cNothing is terrible except fear itself\u201d and almost a hundred years later, Francis Bacon wrote, \u201cThe only thing I am afraid of is fear.\u201d Not wishing to be left out the Duke of Wellington also jumped on the bandwagon two hundred years after that, in 1832 with \u201cThe only thing I am afraid of is fear.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019d been impressed with these sentiments when at school, but out here in the real world, faced with a murderously jealous man, I realised their words weren\u2019t completely true, there are plenty of things to fear, and sometimes fear can be a lifesaving quality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Jealousy \u2013 Part 3<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Jealousy is the enemy of freedom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre in Paris, 1940<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I will never truly know what was going on between Evelyn and Bill. However, most of us who have ever loved and lost will know the fear that courses through us once the possibility of such a loss confronts us. This can often lead us to not only attempt to influence our object of obsession\u2019s decisions but also resent them for having such power over us. What we often fail to see though is the part we play in creating this situation. From the moment we\u2019re confronted with our jealous feelings we can either choose to attempt to control the situation or let go. If we choose control, we\u2019ll be filled with fear, panic, anger and frustration, and even if we successfully keep a hold of the one we fear losing, we\u2019ll never feel completely secure with them because we know we forced the situation. If we let go though, we may still suffer similar fears and anger but that will be part of a healing process that\u2019ll eventually subside into sadness and grief if things fall apart. It took me years to realise that letting go was the best thing to do but getting to that mindset took a lot of bad experiences. But maybe, even if it\u2019s for the first time, we know deep in our hearts, that reacting to jealous feelings with controlling actions won\u2019t ever lead to true love. But then as you may have realised in the chapter on love in Volume One, what we call love is rarely about love. Of course, that said, it\u2019s very easy to dismiss jealous feelings as being bad, but there are times when they can be useful. For instance, our jealous feelings can act as a warning bell to alert us that all is not well, and we ought to try working out what the underlying problem is.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When Bill symbolically pushed his head up to the glass, he was trying to see what was going on. Unfortunately, jealousy also has the effect of colouring our perceptions to see only the worst of our fears when sometimes what we are sensing is an imbalance in the relationship. What we do with that knowledge will define whether we choose a constructive or destructive path. In one direction, there\u2019s violence, control, and coercion, in the other, there\u2019s understanding and letting go. All of this must come with a caveat though. Some would be jealous of even the most faithful of partners and for them, jealousy is a warning about themselves to themselves, and others. In that case, difficult inner journeys must be undertaken if they are ever to truly love others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For all of us though, the first step is working out if our jealousy is that kind (pathological) or for want of a better word a \u2018reasonable\u2019 warning bell. Either way, trying to understand and care for those who have jealous feelings about us, without allowing ourselves to be coerced by them, is probably the most loving path we can follow for both them and us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Back in 1983, I picked up a book about jealousy in the library sale rack. It felt like a very timely find, so, I bought it. For all the causes of jealousy it listed, there are probably many more beyond our current comprehension, but at the end of it, I asked myself if we\u2019d be better off if we could rid ourselves of jealous emotions. Likewise, could we do the same about being unfaithful? Maybe I too was turning toward thinking Humans Mark II might be a good idea after all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n August 1983 \u2013 A level results \u2013 Part 2<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Mum passed me the envelope. I opened it as fast as I could and had to strain to see the results as they were so faintly typed. \u201cMum, is that a D or an O?\u201d I asked. Squinting her eyes, she said reassuringly, \u201cI think it\u2019s an O, Is that good?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIf it\u2019s an O, then it\u2019s a fail. It\u2019s like getting an O-level. Bloody hell, I can\u2019t believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSurely,\u201d I thought, \u201cthis must be a mistake.\u201d I got out of bed and rang the school who informed me it wasn\u2019t an error and indeed I\u2019d only got the equivalent of an \u2018O\u2019-level. A qualification I\u2019d already got two years previously. All in all, I\u2019d taken 5 A levels but only got a C, two D\u2019s and two O\u2019s, basically, not enough to go to Leicester University.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mum cuddled me and told me not to worry. But all I could do was think of all the doors closing on me, all those who\u2019d supported me who I\u2019d now let down and all those plans that were now to be no more. I called my classmates and took some comfort in the fact that only one person in my English literature class passed, which kind of pointed the finger at our tuition. I was also informed that a letter asking for my handwriting\u2019s illegibility to be considered due to my disability hadn\u2019t been sent off which meant I could ask for my paper to be re-marked. However, that\u2019d take months. So, despite all the reassurances and attempts of hope, the truth was, the only valid options were to either go to Chelsea School of Art or spend another term studying and re-taking my exams.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Even now, 40 years later, I wake in fear from dreams where I\u2019ve gone back to re-do my A-levels. Outside of the shame involved in going back a year, I got the feeling that maybe deep down, studying psychology and philosophy wasn\u2019t really for me after all, and going to art college offered so many unplanned options it was worth the risk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was less than a month before my course at Chelsea School of Art was to start and, in that time, I had to see if I could still get a grant and find somewhere to stay as this was not a degree course. I went to see Mr George in the career\u2019s office down the road and he assured me he\u2019d do what he could. The problem was grants for non-degree level qualifications were discretionary and tended not to be forthcoming. This is where people in the background who I would never be aware of, were to influence my life beyond measure. I knew Mr George would try his best to support me in furthering myself, but there\u2019s a whole line of people involved in deciding what should be available and who should get it, and there was no way I\u2019d ever get to see them or they me. A few days later Mr George called me into his office where he informed me both my grant and accommodation had been arranged. For the first time since receiving my grades of doom, I felt some hope.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Letting Go<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n One of the things failure, and maybe jealousy too, teaches us is learning to let go and see where life, either, coincidently or otherwise, takes us. One day we\u2019ll think of all those failures as steps that brought us to a meaningful place. It\u2019s also true, given we don\u2019t know what our alternative lives would have led to, it\u2019s probably just a deluded consolation to see it that way too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Still, if I could have gone back and talked to myself when I mucked up my exams, I\u2019d say something like, \u201cYou have metaphorically just won the lottery. Instead of doing a course in psychology and philosophy where deep down you\u2019re trying to work out your emotional issues, you\u2019re going to get psycho-analytic therapy which will be far more helpful. Instead of being an average student in the above subjects, you\u2019re going to end up going to one of the top colleges for art, you\u2019re going to learn to think differently and become a self-sufficient artist and develop your innate skills in areas you\u2019re not even aware of right now. Instead of living somewhere to get as far away from home as possible, you\u2019re going to live in London for most of your life and all of that is going to lead to relationships and experiences that you just can\u2019t presently imagine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Admittedly, I don\u2019t know what my life would have been like had I passed my exams, maybe it would have been richer, but my point is, so many doors were opening all around me at the time and just as those sayings go, we spend so much time looking at the closed doors ahead of us we don\u2019t see all the open ones around us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bill and Evelyn<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n I didn\u2019t get to see Evelyn again for about ten months. After that confrontation in the park, I thought it best to keep away and Evelyn didn\u2019t call, so I thought they were probably making a go of it. It wasn\u2019t a surprise though when we next spoke to find out they\u2019d separated and were getting a divorce. During this time, I\u2019d gone off to college, so Evelyn came to visit me in my halls of residence in London. As I made her a cup of tea in my room, she told me of a recent episode where Bill knocked the seven bells out of a man she said she\u2019d met with just for a chat. That story, and all the times he\u2019d turned up unexpectedly when I was with Evelyn, convinced me he\u2019d do so again. So, outside of a tea and a chat I was loathe for us to remain in my room and felt much happier going to a gallery instead. Fortunately, this time, Bill didn\u2019t appear suddenly from behind a painting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n About a year later, they divorced, so, I started visiting Evelyn again and one day I realised I\u2019d fallen in love with her. I sent her some flowers for Valentine\u2019s Day which she loved, but she told me, though she had strong feelings for me, firstly she couldn\u2019t ever see a future in a relationship with such a big age difference between us, and secondly, she\u2019d just met a man whom she wanted to date as she felt he was special, and as he eventually became her husband, she was right. I was heartbroken, well, for a couple of weeks at least, but then we started chatting again and continued doing so for many years. Even now, after years of not doing so, we still talk as if we\u2019d only spoken the day before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Bettie\u2019s Story \u2013 The Group<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n After a short journey, the truck stopped about one kilometre from the river. The sun was still low in the sky. As the group dismounted the truck, their feet sunk into about seven inches of fresh snow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The SS officer said, \u201cWe will have to walk for a few minutes to the huts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The thought of getting some rest, heat and maybe some food spurred the group on. They quickly collected their luggage and followed the officer and sure enough, as they got to the end of the track there was a large wooden house with smoke coming from the chimney. As they entered the house the first thing that caught everyone\u2019s attention was the roaring fire. They put down their cases and approached it, hands outstretched. But from the dark edges of the room, 20 German Einsatzgruppen guards emerged into the light, their rifles raised. A few of the members of the group gasped, but the majority, including Bettie, went into a state of shock. None of this made any sense. Then one of the elderly women screamed out for help. The SS officer shouted, \u201cBe quiet\u201d, but as her calls got louder the officer hit her with the butt of his rifle. She dropped to the floor in silence. He grabbed her by the hood of her coat and then pulled her back up. Her face was covered in blood and tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n * * *<\/p>\n\n\n\n Previous Chapter<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n