I've written this on facebook before. Since this is a new blog I want to include some of the more memorable Bipolar events of my life. My most memorable Christmas periods ever. I still laugh about it now! Although I no longer see many of those who were here, I will always have fond memories!
Christmas 2014, was probably the best Christmas I have ever had; I say probably, because if truth be told, I remember very little about it, but always recall, with fondness, chuckling to myself, the vague memories of that special festive time. All the best occasions are the ones you don’t prepare for; the spontaneous oddities that happen from time to time, like a whirlwind of laughter and celebration, still very much alive and kicking in my memory box, along with that period, in 1997, when Princess Diana died; that’s how special, that Christmas was to me!
I had invited my Voluntary Deputy Manager and her son round for Christmas Dinner. Denise was a fantastic lady, someone, who was giving up her time, free to help Oxfam in its endeavours. She was a godsend for me and was also a dear friend; always supportive, honest and true to herself. In truth I had spent a lot of money, making sure Denise had a Christmas to remember. Her circumstances were not the best and she was finding it very difficult coping with life at that time, rather like I am now.
There was me expecting a quiet, ‘normal’ Christmas; how wrong could I possibly be. I was trying to do the traditional Christmas thing. There was the biggest fuck off turkey I could find; I had made cola ham and there was every trimming you could imagine. Posh crackers, an abundance of alcohol and I had even made my own gravy, not the Bisto granules of the past. That’s what it’s all about, Right? We ate dinner and I felt like a bloated whale, as one usually does on these occasions, so laid down on the sofa, to ease the pain. Naturally I fell asleep; by the time I had woken up, Denise and her son had left and myself and Darrell could settle down for a quiet evening, watching Christmas television. I had always invited someone round to my home at Christmas, who had nowhere to go. For me it was a bit of a tradition, that I had done for many years. It felt just like a normal family Christmas, like the ones from the past.
When I refer to a normal family, I am really referring to my Gay family. These were the ones who were there for me, year in and year out. A community of people, who had suffered the same misfortunes and experienced the same happiness, together, as a close knit group. A group that I miss every day, I have to admit!
As I drifted in and out of sleep on the sofa, my mad wayward daughter, our Lee, sheepishly phoned up. We hadn’t spoken for quite a while, having fallen out over her insane ways and that yo yo relationship of hers, that I never approved of and would publically denounce and attack at any given opportunity, at the drop of a hat, causing more problems for our Lee. Can I just mention, that when I refer to ‘SHE’, I am talking about a male in the main; it is a gay thing, a term of endearment, whatever you want to call it, an affectionate reference if you will. Just in case of any confusion!
It was the season of goodwill to all men; actually I draw the line at all, what I really mean is, most men and women, if you want to be particularly PC about it. Me, being the charitable person that I am, told our Lee, she could come round for the evening. He arrived a little worse for wear, with what I assumed was her latest ‘special friend’, bearing gifts of joy, seemingly left fermenting in a darkened room somewhere!
Our Lee tried to get one over me, as she always did; we shouted for quite a bit, scratched each others eyes out, in a drunken tirade of expletives, that made no sense at all and generally spat venom at each other, in that way, only gays know how to do. She had taken something, this wasn’t normal, our Lee was happy, this was not the gay daughter I knew. Our Lee has her problems, which are vast and many, and it seems she had discovered the joys of ‘Happy Pills;’ to alleviate the pain of depression; a heavy dose of medication that was akin to the excess of Christmases past, spent in car parks dancing the night away, until the police arrived to remove us.
Our Lee had brought presents abound; more consumption with low expectations. You can imagine my surprise at how swimmy I got. ‘I’ll just have half, no more, stop right there, that’s enough. I don’t like to overdo things these days, with me ailments, age and disabilities. That was it, I don’t remember much thereafter.
Now my house has always been an open house. That isn’t necessarily a good thing. Sometimes I have seen things, I wish I hadn’t, but when you are as accommodating as I it goes with the territory; you accept sometimes, the bad follow the good. I obviously don’t enjoy strange behaviour 24/7, but it has happened, especially when out Lee plies one, with Christmas cheer. Lee has got me in some states in the past, but to be brutally honest, I was pickled. The sherry trifle had gone to my head and things happened, no daughter should see. She had her little camera, to record such fond memories for the family album, clicking away, getting all the best angles and had all the best lighting. She knows how to make the best of what she has, that one!
Things happened inbetween, oh how we will laugh about it in the future. At the time it all seemed a bit weird and our Lee left in a rage. As we always do, both of us fell out and were out for each others blood. In these situations, I would always make things worse. Constantly phoning her, shouting and screaming down the line, demanding she came back. Lee for her part, one of the worst liars I have ever known, made excuse after excuse; even pretending to be on a tram in Thornhill, on his way home. For a fleeting moment, I accepted her explanation, until, in my sorry state, I realised, there were no trams in Southampton, let alone Thornhill. The more she lied, the worse I got. I love our Lee with all my heart, but we are really, just no good for one another. Despite this, I have the happiest, funniest of memories of time spent in her company.
There were certain people, who were in my life at that time, who I wish, had never been; people of low moral standing; who feed on others pain and live a miserable existence. At a time when I should have been celebrating, not only was I rowing with Lee, but was also dealing with someone else, who had made threats against friends. In these circumstances, I always felt a duty to intervene. It had all been brought about by the usual lies and rumours, started by bored, generally unemployed people; someone, said something to someone else, about something…….You know the sort of thing. In my book, if you do anything wrong, you own up and admit it; anyway, I digress! I was trying to defuse a rather sensitive situation, whilst dealing with Lee’s rampage across Southampton; getting them to see sense on a number of different issues. They, were sadly using my frank honesty, as a reason to gossip more; stirring that gay cauldron, as is often the practice. With myself and our Lee at loggerheads, three way conversations, hearsay and confusion, Lee did what she does best, and dug the knife in even further; she rattled me old bones!
Back on the sunny side of the City I was dealing with more pressing matters. Christmas festivities were getting jiggy. The arrival of Our Jamie and pregnant Mother to be, Kirsty and Jay, brought a different level of specialness to the festivities. Kirsty was in a bit of a mood, eating twiglets by the bucket load and needed cheering up. As usual, once again my expensive, extensive, couture wig and designer outfit collection was raided; the family looked radiant, that Christmas weekend. A friend, who shall remain nameless, for reasons of a personal nature, bought some more memorable items from her revealing collection of themed costumes, and our Jamie took a shine to all of them. Jamie loves to dress up. Ever since I have known him, like me, he enjoys that lighter side of life. In many ways he is a child at heart. When he left Spain, he did leave a hole, at least for a while. As long as he continues to be the loveable kid, he should do well. People are drawn to him for his fun, over the top nature. Everyone needs a Jamie in their life, but nothing is forever!
We dressed for Baby Georges pram/trolley, multifunctional tartan vehicle, test drive,. We all looked stunning. Jamie had his 1970s retro bakelite dial phone, in case of emergencies. I told him, these old corded phones, would work anywhere, any time, if he needed assistance. Strangely, he believed me, which it has to be said, isn’t unusual for him. Still he was happy enough, clutching the 70s green phone under his arm, cord tied round his neck! We headed towards The Avenue, to wave at the cars this fare Christmas eve. Due to the stunning nature of our looks and style, a strange man, disguised in a real fur hat and big glasses was flashing his lens at us, all the way there and back. We later discovered the pervert was that Jay, capturing the moment for his album of people he'd most like to shag....Beautiful we were! (tongue in cheek, I grant you)
I also spent time with dear old friend Dale, Our SJ and Our Claire on New Years Eve, and had the best time ever. I had not laughed that much in a long time and SJ's smile was that big, it did weird sexual things to me, lesbian or no lesbian; she will always be, the best looking guy in the club, for me! It was really great to see people happy. Laughter and joy is a great healer. With all the problems we had at the time, we always knew how to laugh and enjoy the lighter side of life. In reality, that is what will always make these people special. They have all left an indelible mark on my heart.
Towards the end of my time in Southampton, during the last few years, I had established some wonderful, memorable friendships. I had finally found the acceptance I had always desired; close friends who went out of their way for me and Darrell. People like that are rare, priceless if you will. I could never have known, just how much my life would change, after this last happy Christmas. My life became so tainted from the scars of Oxfam, that even I realised in the end, I would never get back the emotions, of that festive period. If you endure what we did, you find it very difficult to show any form of emotion, especially happiness. You forget how to smile, cry, shout and be yourself; you become emotionless, dead inside, unable to show feelings. That Christmas of 2014, was the last time, I truly enjoyed life, as it was meant to be. By March, I had left the job I loved, to try and rebuild my life. Until today, I had not remembered that last Christmas fully. I wasn’t supposed to be happy again, how could I recall these events. However, my current circumstances are difficult and I am finding myself referring to the happy memories of the past, to get me through each day. As I recall these occasions, I will of course write them down. They are a part of who I am and who I want to be again. They should never be forgotten!
These times are more relevant now, than ever. They are part of the process, that brought us to Spain; links to our future, away from the place that I will always call home, first, the friends, I will always remember the most and the events that I will always cherish as reminders of what I left behind. Spain is a difficult place; a path littered with the failures of those who came before. There are no guarantees as with anything in life: We make our own judgements, choices and mistakes, but whatever happens here, I have the satisfaction of knowing, I at least tried. It is always better to have tried and failed, than never tried at all!
Christmas 2014, was probably the best Christmas I have ever had; I say probably, because if truth be told, I remember very little about it, but always recall, with fondness, chuckling to myself, the vague memories of that special festive time. All the best occasions are the ones you don’t prepare for; the spontaneous oddities that happen from time to time, like a whirlwind of laughter and celebration, still very much alive and kicking in my memory box, along with that period, in 1997, when Princess Diana died; that’s how special, that Christmas was to me!
I had invited my Voluntary Deputy Manager and her son round for Christmas Dinner. Denise was a fantastic lady, someone, who was giving up her time, free to help Oxfam in its endeavours. She was a godsend for me and was also a dear friend; always supportive, honest and true to herself. In truth I had spent a lot of money, making sure Denise had a Christmas to remember. Her circumstances were not the best and she was finding it very difficult coping with life at that time, rather like I am now.
There was me expecting a quiet, ‘normal’ Christmas; how wrong could I possibly be. I was trying to do the traditional Christmas thing. There was the biggest fuck off turkey I could find; I had made cola ham and there was every trimming you could imagine. Posh crackers, an abundance of alcohol and I had even made my own gravy, not the Bisto granules of the past. That’s what it’s all about, Right? We ate dinner and I felt like a bloated whale, as one usually does on these occasions, so laid down on the sofa, to ease the pain. Naturally I fell asleep; by the time I had woken up, Denise and her son had left and myself and Darrell could settle down for a quiet evening, watching Christmas television. I had always invited someone round to my home at Christmas, who had nowhere to go. For me it was a bit of a tradition, that I had done for many years. It felt just like a normal family Christmas, like the ones from the past.
When I refer to a normal family, I am really referring to my Gay family. These were the ones who were there for me, year in and year out. A community of people, who had suffered the same misfortunes and experienced the same happiness, together, as a close knit group. A group that I miss every day, I have to admit!
As I drifted in and out of sleep on the sofa, my mad wayward daughter, our Lee, sheepishly phoned up. We hadn’t spoken for quite a while, having fallen out over her insane ways and that yo yo relationship of hers, that I never approved of and would publically denounce and attack at any given opportunity, at the drop of a hat, causing more problems for our Lee. Can I just mention, that when I refer to ‘SHE’, I am talking about a male in the main; it is a gay thing, a term of endearment, whatever you want to call it, an affectionate reference if you will. Just in case of any confusion!
It was the season of goodwill to all men; actually I draw the line at all, what I really mean is, most men and women, if you want to be particularly PC about it. Me, being the charitable person that I am, told our Lee, she could come round for the evening. He arrived a little worse for wear, with what I assumed was her latest ‘special friend’, bearing gifts of joy, seemingly left fermenting in a darkened room somewhere!
Our Lee tried to get one over me, as she always did; we shouted for quite a bit, scratched each others eyes out, in a drunken tirade of expletives, that made no sense at all and generally spat venom at each other, in that way, only gays know how to do. She had taken something, this wasn’t normal, our Lee was happy, this was not the gay daughter I knew. Our Lee has her problems, which are vast and many, and it seems she had discovered the joys of ‘Happy Pills;’ to alleviate the pain of depression; a heavy dose of medication that was akin to the excess of Christmases past, spent in car parks dancing the night away, until the police arrived to remove us.
Our Lee had brought presents abound; more consumption with low expectations. You can imagine my surprise at how swimmy I got. ‘I’ll just have half, no more, stop right there, that’s enough. I don’t like to overdo things these days, with me ailments, age and disabilities. That was it, I don’t remember much thereafter.
Now my house has always been an open house. That isn’t necessarily a good thing. Sometimes I have seen things, I wish I hadn’t, but when you are as accommodating as I it goes with the territory; you accept sometimes, the bad follow the good. I obviously don’t enjoy strange behaviour 24/7, but it has happened, especially when out Lee plies one, with Christmas cheer. Lee has got me in some states in the past, but to be brutally honest, I was pickled. The sherry trifle had gone to my head and things happened, no daughter should see. She had her little camera, to record such fond memories for the family album, clicking away, getting all the best angles and had all the best lighting. She knows how to make the best of what she has, that one!
Things happened inbetween, oh how we will laugh about it in the future. At the time it all seemed a bit weird and our Lee left in a rage. As we always do, both of us fell out and were out for each others blood. In these situations, I would always make things worse. Constantly phoning her, shouting and screaming down the line, demanding she came back. Lee for her part, one of the worst liars I have ever known, made excuse after excuse; even pretending to be on a tram in Thornhill, on his way home. For a fleeting moment, I accepted her explanation, until, in my sorry state, I realised, there were no trams in Southampton, let alone Thornhill. The more she lied, the worse I got. I love our Lee with all my heart, but we are really, just no good for one another. Despite this, I have the happiest, funniest of memories of time spent in her company.
There were certain people, who were in my life at that time, who I wish, had never been; people of low moral standing; who feed on others pain and live a miserable existence. At a time when I should have been celebrating, not only was I rowing with Lee, but was also dealing with someone else, who had made threats against friends. In these circumstances, I always felt a duty to intervene. It had all been brought about by the usual lies and rumours, started by bored, generally unemployed people; someone, said something to someone else, about something…….You know the sort of thing. In my book, if you do anything wrong, you own up and admit it; anyway, I digress! I was trying to defuse a rather sensitive situation, whilst dealing with Lee’s rampage across Southampton; getting them to see sense on a number of different issues. They, were sadly using my frank honesty, as a reason to gossip more; stirring that gay cauldron, as is often the practice. With myself and our Lee at loggerheads, three way conversations, hearsay and confusion, Lee did what she does best, and dug the knife in even further; she rattled me old bones!
Back on the sunny side of the City I was dealing with more pressing matters. Christmas festivities were getting jiggy. The arrival of Our Jamie and pregnant Mother to be, Kirsty and Jay, brought a different level of specialness to the festivities. Kirsty was in a bit of a mood, eating twiglets by the bucket load and needed cheering up. As usual, once again my expensive, extensive, couture wig and designer outfit collection was raided; the family looked radiant, that Christmas weekend. A friend, who shall remain nameless, for reasons of a personal nature, bought some more memorable items from her revealing collection of themed costumes, and our Jamie took a shine to all of them. Jamie loves to dress up. Ever since I have known him, like me, he enjoys that lighter side of life. In many ways he is a child at heart. When he left Spain, he did leave a hole, at least for a while. As long as he continues to be the loveable kid, he should do well. People are drawn to him for his fun, over the top nature. Everyone needs a Jamie in their life, but nothing is forever!
We dressed for Baby Georges pram/trolley, multifunctional tartan vehicle, test drive,. We all looked stunning. Jamie had his 1970s retro bakelite dial phone, in case of emergencies. I told him, these old corded phones, would work anywhere, any time, if he needed assistance. Strangely, he believed me, which it has to be said, isn’t unusual for him. Still he was happy enough, clutching the 70s green phone under his arm, cord tied round his neck! We headed towards The Avenue, to wave at the cars this fare Christmas eve. Due to the stunning nature of our looks and style, a strange man, disguised in a real fur hat and big glasses was flashing his lens at us, all the way there and back. We later discovered the pervert was that Jay, capturing the moment for his album of people he'd most like to shag....Beautiful we were! (tongue in cheek, I grant you)
I also spent time with dear old friend Dale, Our SJ and Our Claire on New Years Eve, and had the best time ever. I had not laughed that much in a long time and SJ's smile was that big, it did weird sexual things to me, lesbian or no lesbian; she will always be, the best looking guy in the club, for me! It was really great to see people happy. Laughter and joy is a great healer. With all the problems we had at the time, we always knew how to laugh and enjoy the lighter side of life. In reality, that is what will always make these people special. They have all left an indelible mark on my heart.
Towards the end of my time in Southampton, during the last few years, I had established some wonderful, memorable friendships. I had finally found the acceptance I had always desired; close friends who went out of their way for me and Darrell. People like that are rare, priceless if you will. I could never have known, just how much my life would change, after this last happy Christmas. My life became so tainted from the scars of Oxfam, that even I realised in the end, I would never get back the emotions, of that festive period. If you endure what we did, you find it very difficult to show any form of emotion, especially happiness. You forget how to smile, cry, shout and be yourself; you become emotionless, dead inside, unable to show feelings. That Christmas of 2014, was the last time, I truly enjoyed life, as it was meant to be. By March, I had left the job I loved, to try and rebuild my life. Until today, I had not remembered that last Christmas fully. I wasn’t supposed to be happy again, how could I recall these events. However, my current circumstances are difficult and I am finding myself referring to the happy memories of the past, to get me through each day. As I recall these occasions, I will of course write them down. They are a part of who I am and who I want to be again. They should never be forgotten!
These times are more relevant now, than ever. They are part of the process, that brought us to Spain; links to our future, away from the place that I will always call home, first, the friends, I will always remember the most and the events that I will always cherish as reminders of what I left behind. Spain is a difficult place; a path littered with the failures of those who came before. There are no guarantees as with anything in life: We make our own judgements, choices and mistakes, but whatever happens here, I have the satisfaction of knowing, I at least tried. It is always better to have tried and failed, than never tried at all!