Anna’s a disability/ neurodiversity campaigner who has worked to provide improved education and other services and support for children and adults described as being on the autism spectrum as well as other neurodiverse conditions.
In pursuing these activities she has (among other things) helped establish two schools, a college, a respite home and a website with over 100,000 international followers.
Kennedy was given an OBE (Royal Reward for Inspirational Mother) Award by Queen Elizabeth II at Buckingham Palace in 2012 for her services. And in her rare spare time, she loves to dance.
We asked her a few questions about Pride and her everlasting support towards the community.
What does Pride mean to you?
June is Pride Month and this gives charities like mine, AnnaKennedyonline supporting autistic children and adults the opportunity to shoutout and thank those in the LGBTQ+ community who work tirelessly to champion equality and respect for all within the work place and within their community.
I am huge fan of Pride month and to be honest we need to have Pride all year and be vocal about being who we are.
You seem to have a huge gay following, have the LGBTQIA+ community always been in your life?
The LBGTQ+ community have been in my life since I started the school and college for my sons in 1999, where many of the staff were from the community.
Really it is how it should be, we are all human and we should not even raise an eyebrow and see someone as different because of who they love.
Autism’s Got talent is a big part of the year how is diverse is it?
I’m hoping that Autism’s Got Talent caters for all our performers and their families. We are in our 13th year, and we are open to be inclusive as much as we possibly can.
Many of the LGBTQ community who come to see the show see it as being as big as New Years or dare I say, Eurovision.
Autism’s Got Talent Show 2023
You’re jumping out of a plane to raise awareness and funds for Anna Kennedy online, please, are you insane? Tell us all?
I have always been afraid of heights and when Aston Avery, Lisa Robins and Steven Smith said they were going to jump out a plane to raise much needed funds for our charity, I was so grateful.
But I told them I will be firmly on the ground waving a flag.
Then someone (I won’t name. ) pointed out that one of my strengths was getting others to challenge themselves. It was a case of practice what I preached.
Plus, another tick for my bucket list! (Hopefully not the last one)
What would you say to a parent that struggles to accept their child because of their sexuality?
Accept, support and love them for who they are love is more important that judging.
The Autism Hero Awards are not until next year, why have you skipped a year?
We have finally booked a hotel for March 2025 in Regents Park. We are concentrating on fundraising for our charity this year since so many charities are closing due to lack of funds.
Venues also have raised their prices due to cost increases and it has been difficult to locate a venue to suit our limited budget. Autism Hero Awards is such a lovely and inspiring event celebrating those who go the extra mile for the autism community. Closing date for entries is the end of August 2024.
Autism’s Hero Awards 2023
All of the queens would love to go to the palace, and you did. What was it like?
I have been to the Palace a few times now, the most memorable was receiving my OBE in 2012 from Her Majesty the Queen Elizabeth II.
Recently I was invited to The King’s Garden Party. It rained and I had a big Pride umbrella with all the colours of the rainbow, it was well needed.
If you had a drag queen name, what would it be?
It’s got to be ‘Lady De Dancing Queen’. I am sure I was a drag queen in my previous life.
My charity patron Steven Smith says I am camp anyway.
Dr.Anna Kennedy and Steven Smith at the Autism’s Got Talent show 2023
What is your favourite song?
Whitney Houston’s I’m Every Woman. I want it played at my funeral and for everyone to dance!
If you could dance at any Pride in the world, where would it be?
New York or Rio look fun! I would love to be on float at Pride.
Thank you for your time Dr. Anna Kennedy, 2Shades are thrilled to you on board!
Stay tuned to Anna’s column for more information on Autism awareness and the initiatives she takes to cater to the neurodivegent community.
Hi all! My name is Heidi and I am really looking forward to be part of 2Shades Magazine.
As their new agony aunt, I can’t wait to answer your issues and problems!
Picture Credit: Behance
I am a counseller/therapist working in private practice in London, I find people fascinating and I just love helping people.
I have worked with the public for over 30 years so hit me up with all your worries and dilemmas and I will do my best to help!
Dear Heidi,
Love the column. My problem is I am at my second year of Uni and Trans. This term I intend to return as Brendan, my true male self. I have seen a doctor and I am making plans to start transitioning. Being the quintessential butch dyke, this won’t come as shock to my uni mates. But Mum and Dad say if I do that is the final straw and that will be me cut off. They fund my education and lifestyle. Heidi, I am miserable as Kim but as Brendan I feel amazing and who I want to be. What can I do to change my parents’ minds?
– Brendan, Manchester
Hello Brendan,
Great to hear from you and I wish you all the best with your transition. Sadly, you are not alone; it’s not just parents, but friends and those around you accepting you becoming your authentic self. Still parents struggle with their kids being gay, or making choices that they have not dictated or hoped for. However, many parents change their minds once they see you are happy. Your parents love you I am sure, and it can be difficult for them. Please do not overreact and have a little empathy that they are finding it difficult.
Try once things have calmed down to reapproach them. Tell them how unhappy you are and how long you have felt like this. Next look at family counselling if your parents agree to attend. Seek some advice from the support group Mermaids. More importantly, if your parents do cut you off, you may need to look at other ways to stand on your own and fund your education. You do not want to be told that who you are is wrong by anyone, let alone the ones that love you; it will take a strain on your mental health. https://mermaidsuk.org.uk/parents/
Love, Heidi.
Dear Heidi,
I do not know if you have been watching” Heartstopper”? Well my latter school years were just like that. I was Charlie and my Nick was the captain of the football team and from the moment we met we did more than kiss. Honestly my last year at school was a dream and my Nick (Alex) was a hero and so good looking. We are going to the same Uni, and it has a LGBTIQQ group we both joined. Alex almost right away slept with two guys from it.
Let’s not start with our nights out in Brighton. He says he still loves me but needs to explore and that I should do the same. One guy said that I would never have stood a chance of getting Alex if it had not been a school fling as he is out of my league. That really upset me but he said it was just a reality check. I am so in love with Alex, what can I do Heidi?
– Howard, Brighton
Still from the Netflix show, Heartstopper. Picture Credit: USA Today
Darling Howard,
Don’t we all just love “Heartstopper”? Now, deep breath Howard. Heidi is going to give you a reality check: “Heartstopper” is a wonderful show, however it does not necessary reflect real life. Not just gay relationships but straight ones do not last the test of time once you leave. It sounds like you are a romantic. Alex wants to spread his wings and, like many young people, experiment and sleep around. You are getting hurt my love, chasing after Alex.
There are others around that want romance so maybe to look for someone who will treat you the way you deserve. As for Alex being out of your league, some of the loneliest people Heidi has met are models or drop dead gorgeous. They just want love and someone to see them for more than looks. How dare someone tell you he is out of your league! The universe will find someone for you, but it may be Alex is not good enough for you. Try and enjoy your time at Uni.
Love, Heidi.
Dear Heidi,
Hope all is ok with you. I went to art college last year and almost right away made a group of new friends. They are all super talented and love to party. Before college I never drank but almost overnight the pier pressure meant I was waking with a hangover too often. Then the drugs crept in, just at weekends at first. Last term I was doing coke almost every other day with one of the new friends who is loaded. My question is I do not want go back this term and do the same thing: I found myself looking for coke this summer and I am sure I have a problem. But I do not want to lose my friends so what can I do?
– Melinda -Epping
Dear Melinda,
Drugs do not make a real friend. You are on such a slippery slope if you are not already there, they will be destroying your life and education. All this in order to find acceptance amongst a group of people you really only have just met? Trust Heidi, there is a very good chance you won’t even know these peers in a few years. You mention they have money, so they are supplying the drugs.
What a mess you’re going to be in if they walk away: they are still wealthy whilst you are left with an addiction issue. Please get help now, even transfer from this school. Maybe look at going to an A.A or N.A meeting in your area or talk to someone you trust. Please, only you can save yourself so make some wise choices for a happy future. https://na.org
Stephen Merchant as Stephen Port in the BBC drama 'Four Lives'
Stephen Merchant stars as Stephen Port in the BBC drama Four Lives
This article was first published two years ago following the conviction of rapist Reynhard Sinaga.
Reynhard Sinaga was convicted of 159 sex offenders. Picture credit: PinkNews
Now, with the release of Four Lives starring Stephen Merchant and Sheridan Smith, which looks at the bungled police investigation into the dreadful crimes of Stephen Port, it couldn’t be more relevant.
Ten years ago, on a warm summer’s afternoon I am in a well-known clothes rental store getting a kilt for a Scottish friend’s wedding (I have since bought one) laughing and chatting with the lady who’s serving me. She is about to measure me up when a male assistant interrupts. “Oh, I can see what size he is, I’ll pop down and get a couple for him to try.” There is nothing unusual here and the lady shuffles off. Minutes later the man returns and ushers me to the changing room. “Try that one on first” – and he leaves me. Barely seconds before I have it on, he is back. This time he has tape measure in hand. “Oh, that’s too loose, let me double check the measurements.” Are you gay? To be honest, I really loathe trying clothes on in shops, so my thought was, at this point, that was what that girl was doing before you interrupted.
Before I know it, he has the tape measure around me and as he releases it his hand goes up the kilt and he grabs the Crown Jewels. “Sorry, it slipped, I’ll get you the right size.” Now I feel like a rabbit in the headlights. “Did that just happen?” If I am left in any doubt, he returns with a third kilt in hand and whispers, “Are you gay?” I lie and say no!!! Taking the kilt I close the curtains on him and just stand there thinking “What the fuck?” Funnily enough, the lady who was originally serving me checks me out while he is nowhere to be seen.
Anyone reading this may well say, “The man doth protest too much.” But unless you have been sexually assaulted, you have no idea how you will react. My first thought was, what did I do to encourage that behaviour? Second, if I complain, it is going to be, “You’re a gay man, you must have encouraged it.” If you were that traumatised you should have run out of the shop.” My gay friends were not any help either. One laughed and said, “Lucky you, dear, you’re no chicken but the boys keep coming.” and the other said, “It can only happen to you, do you have his number?.” This is not the first time this kind of thing has happened to me. I don’t want to sound like a victim but I always blame myself.
Much as I have been out since 15 and a spokesperson for LGBTQ and Walk with Pride, due to various experiences there is still some shame and trauma around my sexuality. But I built a wall around myself so nobody can tell. Terrified this experience is common to so many gay men I have spoken to who have been sexually abused or raped. They say, “We must have done something to deserve this.” Trust me, this is not unusual. There are men, gay and straight, walking around who have been raped and are terrified anyone finds out. My heart goes go out to the bravery of Sam Thompson. What a man. Sam was raped by two men in Manchester. He has led the way in encouraging reporting and talking about sexual abuse and rape.
Sam Thompson. Picture credit: BBC
Although in macho British society men are raised on the “big boys don’t cry” motto, we are getting better. Talking about feelings is hard for men because society’s labelling of what a man should feel. It’s almost impossible to live up to. What really stands out about Sam’s horrific ordeal – he is heterosexual – is there are so many comments claiming that it must have been so much worse for him as he was straight.
Internalised homophobia.
This shows a complete lack of understanding. And exactly one of the reasons there is so much shame around reporting being raped among both gay and straight men. It’s as if it was “not as bad” if you’re gay. Almost as if we would take some pleasure in it. Another human forcing them on you is wrong, no matter what your sexuality is. The fear that you’ll be judged can be as bad as the act itself.
Sexual-awareness experts say that probably only nine percent of men raped or sexually abused will report it due to the fear they won’t be seen as “real men” or, perhaps, because of internal homophobia. In fact, many of the men who commit the act of rape don’t identify as gay. They are not typically to be found on the gay scene, though they may hunt on the periphery for victims.
Who could forget the film “Shawshank Redemption” set in a prison when Andy, the hero, hears that the nicknamed “Sisters” (three men) have taken, “a shine to him”? Andy replies, “I don’t suppose it would help if I told them I am not homosexual?” Red replies, “Neither are they. You’d have to be human first. They don’t qualify.”
Shawshank Redemption. Picture credit: IMDb
Male rape has been seen as a taboo subject in the media. It only raises its head in the prison genre of movies. It caused shock revelations when the movie “Scum” came out in 1979 (it was set in a boys’ reformatory) due in part to the male-rape scene. Seventeen years ago, Channel 4’s Hollyoaks tackled the subject with the Luke Morgan storyline. The victim was brilliantly played by Gary Lucy.
It remains their most popular storyline to date. A recent, horrible turn of events has forced the subject of male rape to hit the headlines, with Britain’s worst rapist, Reynhard Sinaga, 36, found guilty of luring 48 men from outside bars and clubs in Manchester back to his flat where he drugged and assaulted them. In many cases he filmed them. The actual number of victims has been estimated to be in the hundreds, but fear, guilt or just not realising what happened meant that many assaults went unreported.
It is so important that these assaults are reported, and that men talk about sexual assault and rape. I know what the risks are because now I am going to talk about the rape of a 16-year-old boy. Me! And just how easy it is for it to happen.
My home life was a nightmare. I had come out just before my 16th birthday but those details or for another day. Needless to say, I was desperate for some kindness and positive male role models. We had moved from Whitley Bay to what was supposed to be London, but it was Surbiton and I knew no one, let alone having the chance to meet another gay person in suburbia.
Earl’s Court Pic
Earl’s Court station in London. Picture Credit: Tripadvisor
There were no apps or dating sites. The rules of my house, apparently there to protect me, actually put me in more danger as I had to be home by a silly time and could never stay out overnight in case the “homosexuals got me”. But it was fine to leave me and go to Spain for two weeks before I came out. Still, we all make mistakes and I am sure my folks meant well. I’m not judging, just giving you a bit of background.
Being a resourceful sort, it did not take long for me to come up with a plan, and I discovered Earl’s Court and a bar called The Coleherne on Brompton Road. Apart from a pint with some of the people at the theatre school in Newcastle I went to when I was 15, I had never really been to a bar, let alone a gay bar. Honestly, it felt like entering the genie’s cave. It was overwhelming – people like me! – and it was exciting.
It wasn’t long before a lad a few years older than me approached me and asked, “Where are you going next?” He thought it was hysterical when I said I had a curfew.
The Pembroke, Earl’s Court, London. Picture Credit: Tripadvisor
He said, “Well lovely, you have time to get down to Catacombs. They don’t sell booze, but we can have boogie and coffee.” He was called Ian and he was going to be my “sister” (gay slang). Oh god, I fell in love with the Catacombs. The rich music of Grace Jones’ La Vie En Rose came bursting up to greet me as I walked down the stairs into the small, vibrant club. I felt free and safe as I danced and laughed with people that seemed to be like me. Honestly, the music of Donna Summer and the like meant I could not wait to go back the following Saturday. It insulated me from the often-miserable time during the week.
One night, one of the guys running the club who was older starting chatting. He told me that hanging out with Ian, I might get myself a reputation. It was a shame as I was “a nice lad”. He said, “Listen, some of us are going to lunch tomorrow, around one o’clock. Why don’t you come too? Don’t tell your mate though. I’ll fill you in when we chat tomorrow.” I was getting what seemed to be approval and he seemed so nice. I honestly could not wait to get home that night and then back to Earl’s Court.
I arrived a little early to make a good impression and had dressed up. He was a few minutes late and patted me on the back, so smiley. He said, “Do you mind if we nip down the club? I need to do a bit of cashing up, the others are running late.” Mind? Of course not. I was actually excited to go.
Once in, he popped some music on, and he had some alcohol behind the coffee bar – hidden, as it had no licence. “Drink?” he said. Who was going to refuse, and he was so interested in me. He was counting money and he eventually topped me up and next thing I feel like I am spinning and in a dream state, and my body was almost limp with the red lights of the club beaming on me.
In my hazy recollection there were two men on me. Luckily, they took me to Ian’s car (worse could have happened). I was being very sick. Ian knew I was a not a big drinker at the time. Honestly, I could hear him going mad and the men saying that too much drink had been consumed. “That’s not drink,” he screamed. He had to give me saltwater as the sick was black. We got a friend of Ian’s to take me home, but I was in an awful state. I dared not tell anyone what had happened and – to be honest – I was not sure what had happened at the time. But I knew it wasn’t good.
Of course, I stuck to the story that it was drink. However, my parents decided that on top of me being gay, I was now a drug addict and mum started calling helplines. This had given them all the ammunition to confirm that everything about being gay was bad.
Of course, it was all my fault. It was my fault that in my need for validation from a male, so sadly lacking, I had listened to gossip and not told my friend Ian. My heartfelt apologies went out to him and it was a lesson. There were other consequences, and luckily Ian helped me see a doctor so I could keep what had happened covered up from family and work. Yet who did I blame. Myself, of course.
So, as in other traumatising situations from my childhood, I internalised it and coped. I moved on and never spoke about it ever again, Of course I apologised for being such a terrible person. Bless my parents, they really were not to know. Still, one of the best things that happened was that I moved out a few months later to Chiswick and was much safer and happier.
But only a month later, one Monday night was Bangs, the UK’s biggest gay club night and I managed to persuade my parents that as Tuesday was my day off it would be easier to stay with Ian. Dancing was my escape. I loved it and quickly I was approached by a young air steward who asked me to a party in the countryside. It was being hosted that Sunday by someone famous who “would love me”. Well, he was young and nice, and it was different, and it was someone famous.
They would even pick me up. Of course, when I got there, and my host greeted me it was straight off to the tennis court. It was only the four of us and we quickly moved into the disco room and drinks flowed. But in all my excitement and nerves, wanting to please, I got drunk on gin and tonic. There was no food, but it became clear I was the main course for the host.
Only later in life, when my nephew got to 15 -16, I thought never would I do something to a young person and take advantage of them. I honestly don’t think I would be responsible for my actions if anyone touched my nephew. It is funny, the celeb is busy dishing the dirt on so many people. I won’t name him, but according to a celebrity pal of mine her friend says he still has young people shipped in.
Trust me, there is another Prince Andrew story out there. It’s only now I don’t blame myself, but I could not talk about things till now: what happened in the Catacombs club, even my best friend and sister don’t know.
What is so frightening is the rise of chem-sex parties in London, with so many deaths and stories of apparent rape. I have never been to one and I am not judging, but it’s just not what would turn me on.
But I guarantee there will be a line crossed and men will leave blaming themselves for just being there or feel they asked for it for just being gay. GHB, one of the common drugs used at the parties, comes in a clear liquid form and was apparently used by Reynhard Sinaga on his victims (and also by gay serial-killer rapist Stephen Port).
It’s incredibly dangerous and can either kill the user or invoke a sensation of euphoria. It’s a fine line, though. With the rise of this drug and the rise in male rapes too, is it possible we can all talk about it and start to make a difference? No means no and it’s never okay to put anything in anyone’s drink.
The Angels of the North starring Michael Marouli, Tomara Thomas and Ginger Johnson. Photo by Paul Madeley
[SPOILER ALERT: For anyone who hasn’t watched Drag Race UK Season 5 yet]
In conversation, Michael Marouli shares details about the upcoming tour “Angels of the North” with Ginger Johnson and Tomara Thomas after Drag Race UK Season 5.
The angels simply can’t wait to show the world what the tour has in store for us starting April 2024. So what can we expect?
Poster for the Angels of the North Tour starting April 2024
Michael said, “It’s going to be unreal. The show is going to be so slick. It’s going to be a night of incredible performances and production. There’s going to be comedy, we’re going to have our Disaster Class that we did on Drag Race.
And we’ll be bringing our individual personalities, our own performance styles, we’re just going to take the magic we created on the drag race, on the road. All over the UK, in Australia and so much more!”
Drag Race UK season 5 released on the 28th of September 2023 and ended on the 30th of November 2023. A season that will definitely go down as one to remember.
It isn’t RuPaul’s best friend race but somehow, these queens from the north east of England, struck a balance between healthy competition and an everlasting friendship.
They knew there was something magnetic about the trio after their ‘Disaster Class’ improv on episode four. It was a true masterpiece that birthed the idea of three Geordie babes conquering the world beyond Drag Race UK.
Michael said, “It was when RuPaul introduced us for the last time on the main stage, she said, please welcome back the angels of north and we went, ding! It was at that moment where we felt like this needed to happen.
And it’s the fact that three of us from the north east were in the final, we just knew we had something magic.”
The final looks of the Top 3 queens on the main stage. Post credit: The Queer Review
As a viewer myself, I can confirm that this season was filled with so much love and warmth. All of the queens displayed their passion with such conviction, the judges were forced to go down to the nitty gritty to eliminate someone every week.
It was packed with high art, high drag, insane belly laughs and shadiness in good spirit. The top 3 queens are the perfect examples of what the season stands for.
The winner, Ginger Johnson radiates a rare kindness and confidence in a drag queen that mesmerised RuPaul to believe that queens like her still exist.
RuPaul was also pleasantly surprised by the second runner up queen, young Tomara. Her ability to be such a fearless yet compassionate drag queen at 25 proves that it really is her world and we’re all just living in it.
As for Michael, he served looks and performances every week and left no crumbs. Although, it was his character that really spoke to me. He has a deep sense of empathy, carefree humour and maturity that made me wonder what shaped him to be this way.
Michael said, “I went from performing for three people in a bar, learning how to speak on a microphone and all of that. And just bringing that experience and mashing it together with modern day drag aesthetic and I’ve kind of got the best of both worlds I think.”
In our interview we mutually agreed that pop culture was our saviour. For Michael the likes of George Michael, Madonna, Spice Girls and Lady Gaga were his key inspirations to elevate with his art.
Michael’s extraordinary look for the “POOFS ON PARADE” challenge on Drag Race UK S5. Photo by Stoney Darkstone
His looks were embroidered with the inspiration he derived from his role models. His own unique touch portrayed the grace of an experienced queen and the campiness of new queen on the block.
Michael said, “You’ve got you keep growing all the time. I think that’s the beautiful thing with life, you never stop learning. With anything artistic, there’s always new inspiration. There’s always things changing.
The world is constantly evolving. There’s always new pop cultural references. Like the lyric in my final performance, baby old school new school, I bridge that gap!”
There was a particular challenge that really brought to light Michael’s personality in real life and as a drag queen. It was the drag makeover challenge on episode 8 where Michael met the adorable LGBT support line worker, Peter, a.k.a Gezeer Manouli.
The connection between them was instant but more importantly, it was Michael’s resilience that won that challenge for him. He handed over the spotlight to Peter to let him have the moment of his life.
Michael said, “I’m like that as a person, it’s because I’m a little older, I’m like a mother/daddy. I said to Peter off camera before we went into the workroom, I told him, this is all about you.
And I’ll make sure you have the best time of your life. It’s such a high pressure environment anyway, so it was nice to kind of focus on somebody else for a change rather than thinking oh god, am I gonna do well in the challenge? I was just purely focused on Peter, to have that little bit of relief.”
Althought Michael came runner-up in the competition, he has nothing but high regards for Ginger Johnson. The energy that I received from him was that he never would have imagined that three Geordie babes would be the top 3 queens of Drag Race UK.
That seemed more like a victory to him than actually winning the crown. He was genuinely proud of Ginger for taking the crown to represent the queens of north east.
Michael said, “The fact I was in the final two is a huge achievement. I was just so proud of myself. And I know how much it meant to Ginger and to see how happy she was. That was a win in itself. It probably sounds like the pageant answer, but it’s true because we genuinely were rooting for each other.
We have such love and respect that I was just so happy for her as well. And I can’t complain. I came second I was like the runner-up on Rupaul’s Drag Race! That happens to a handful of people in this in the universe and that happened to me. So it’s incredible. And now I can go and win all stars!”
Michael Marouli has a heart of gold, and he is an extraordinary icon in the making. And a trio of icons coming together for a tour that will win our hearts and give us the ultimate extravaganza?
The world is simply not ready, it’s an experience of a lifetime that you certainly do not want to miss.
It was the night when Coatbridge Town Hall burnt down. It was the 27th of October 1967 and I was six years old. Mum had taken me to what they call now “Kids club”. It was a cold night and before dropping me off she announced, “You’re a big boy now and you can get yourself home. Come straight back and do not talk to strangers.”
A bit of me had always been an adventurer so it was with trepidation and some excitement when the club finished, I stepped out into the cold dark Scottish night air. Everyone seemed to be going in the other direction with their parents.
I can remember even now being proud that I was big enough to come home on my own even at night as I was now six. My mum, like many parents of their generation, took me to school on the first day and that was it. I still remember her complaining that I had not waved goodbye when they took me to class.
As much of my life was to pan out, the journey was not so straight. As I walked the cold night air took on a warmer texture and my eyes started to hurt. It became harder to see as I turned a corner the air became thick with smoke: the town hall opposite the street was on fire.
It was like something from an amazing movie; part of me was filled with excitement and the other with fear. Running fast up the road to find a safe spot, I really wanted to stay and watch as the fire brigade came, and the town hall burnt like a magnificent bonfire.
It was the same building in which my doctor was housed and I had passed my, “Tufty Club “road safety badge. Looking to my left, I thought my mum would have come running, having seen it from the window of the terrace flat in Laird Street, but she had not. Much as every bone in my six-year-old body wanted to stay and watch the building where “The Bee Gees” had appeared just a month before turn to rubble and cinders, taking one last glance, with full force my little body dashed for the safety of home.
One thing you learnt in the 60s was “BOY’S DO NOT CRY”. I had gotten into trouble for crying a few months beforehand. “What will people think?” was another very 60’s double standard.
Climbing the stairs to the flat, I banged the door and could hardly get the news out. “WHAT IS IT?” mum looked cross. “The town hall is on fire!” Mum had a look of disbelief and I followed her as she charged to the bedroom window which had a slight view of the hall from the right. Sure enough there it was, all ablaze.
29 A Laird Street Coatbridge Scotland my birth home.
Boys in the 60’s were supposed to look up to the macho man, the heroes of football, movie stars like John Wayne, and enjoy manly sports although my father teaching me football by heading the ball to me in the bedroom was not a great introduction. Quickly I grew to loathe the beautiful game, as the boys at school seemed to kick the ball at me, rather than to me.
Being a red head made me a prime target for bullies from day one. Even at the Saturday kids’ cinema it dawned on me that something was not right when other boys wanted to be “The Lone Ranger” and I wanted to be under his wing and be Tonto. One of my Christmas gifts was an Indian costume. Wow, though only six I quickly discovered that dressing up was addictive and it took me away from less than happy times.
You learn as a child to make sure everything looks OK and that you are doing well. It was the 60’s -70’s as the new middle class boomed. The fear of being seen as working class whilst not quite fitting in with the upper class gave birth to the likes to copious “Hyacinth Buckets” in every neighbourhood. “You should have had my childhood “and “Do you know how lucky you are?” were common sayings, whilst drilling into you ‘Do not to mention that to anyone”.
As if things were not bad enough at school, the bullying extended in the worst way possible. Two older girls in the year above became obsessed with me and would kick, punch and throw things at me. Two girls bullying me was just not something I could share. I found a new route home that they did not know, and made a dash for it. But they found me a few days later when I was halfway home with no one around. They pulled my glasses off and stamped on them, then chucked them over a hedge and spat at me. Hitting them back I was hysterical and they ran off. For the life of me though I searched but the glasses were gone. My mother had told me about the sacrifices that had been made to get them for me. Needless to say, she was furious I arrived home, lying that I had lost them. She did not stop hitting me till she noticed I had chicken pox.
After convalescing, on arrival back at school, the two girls had reported me for bullying them. It was quite terrifying. I was in the hall with my class and teacher when the girls appeared with their teacher and my name was called. My gut reaction was to run, the teacher caught me just as my little body arrived at the school door gates. Somehow the whole awful event ended by me being hit with a ruler on the back of the legs by a teacher. My dad always said “If you do not hit back, I will hit you” As a young boy this taught me that was it was better to deceive, as when everything looked ok, things were better.
Boys grew up quickly in the 60’s. I was what they called a latchkey kid. My mum was very glamorous and went to work as promotion girl for “Dutch cheese” “No6 cigarettes” and “Bells Whisky”. Whilst Carol our neighbour looked after my baby sister Karen, it was deemed better I let myself into the flat. I can still remember being desperate to learn knitting. My mum kept her knitting in the top drawer of her dresser and I would pick it up. I wanted to ask to learn but it was not the done thing for boys.
The extra income meant my sister and I were always the best dressed and best-mannered kids in the area. Mum working meant they could afford the things for us that they never had as children. I must add here that being self-sufficient at an early age made me a stronger person, although me and one my best friends both laugh when our mums raise objections to their 14 year old grandchildren going to the shops. Times change.
By age nine, I was moving with my family to what was touted as the big time. Livingstone was a new town that promised a utopia of living in the heart of Scotland between Glasgow and Edinburgh. We were now apparently officially “Middle Class”. It was the 70’s and mum wore hot pants, smoked St Moritz, and sipped exotic drinks. Sergio Mendes, Jack Jones and the Beatles would blare from the record player and “The Abigail’s Party “era was upon us. Much as mum and I always got on, my dad and I had a strained relationship.
There are two possible reasons for this. The first one is that when I had chicken pox, I infected him too. The other is that when he came to pick me up from what was painted as “The Nemesis”, my grandmother, I had run off. Either way the man, who I used to run to meet on his way home with such excitement, could now switch in a second and if mum was not around, he could get volatile. He sent me one Saturday morning to buy potato scones (Scottish dish) and it was quite distance. On the way back two had fallen out of the wrapper into the shopping bag. He went mad and I was not allowed breakfast.
It had a profound effect on me, having to walk on eggs shells with the man that I idolised as a kid. Looking back, I think I can remember the first time that I found a man attractive. Dad had taken my sister and me to the swimming baths. As we were getting changed to go home Dad was in a mood and as he was struggling with my sister’s thick hair and made her cry. My whole body was desperate to protect her, but Dad frightened me so I was looking away to avoid his gaze. There was this man laughing and his kids were having fun. He was naked and looked like Elvis he smiled at me and to this day he is in my mind as the first man that I wanted to be with.
It was not till later in life, when dad came to live with me when he had cancer, that it became clear. When he was a musician (he played the trumpet) he got a gig playing in an orchestra. “I used to have to have two glasses of whisky before I went on”, he told me, still smoking away at 74. His nerves got the better of him and he dropped his dream to have the idyllic modern family. My dad worked every day of his life, and we never went without, but I cannot remember a time he did not have a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. Even picking him up from hospital after an extensive lung operation, he was nice in the car to my place, but as soon as I got him settled on the sofa with the kettle on, he shouted out “Worst two weeks of my life! Get me a whisky and a cigarette!” Challenging him that he did not want to do this or he might end up back in the hospital made him explode. “ARE YOU THREATING ME?!” My dad lived with functioning addiction. Personally, I have yet to meet an addict that does not have extreme mood swings and explode on occasions. That, I must point out, is my personal experience.
My time in Livingstone was worthy of a novel and there is only so much room in my column. All I will say is that the voice of Marc Bolan singing “Ride a White Swan”, blaring from the TV, showed me there was a light somewhere that would be the place for me, as it did for many of my generation. A few years ago, when talking at “Shell Oil” in Glasgow, a friend took me to 29a Laird Street in Coatbridge, my first home. It looked so small; even the wall I fell off as a child, when my life flashed before me (I still have the scar today), looked nothing like I remember.
Boys do cry. And they should cry whenever they want, and speak out when they are scared. Everyone has a strength: being sensitive is one and not a weakness. It´s no longer the 60’s or 70’s and boys don´t have to put on a brave face. They shouldn´t have to pretend everything is fine to make life easier. Always ask kids if they are OK because there is no shame and saying please help me I am struggling. You have let know one down being a man or human is having empathy and being able to say who you are with out fear.
2Shades Magazine 