Last night I spent a lovely evening with friends, talking, gossiping and putting the World to rights. It felt great to relax in good company for a change, especially after the week I have had.  The pain from Diverticulitis and IBS has been getting me down, especially over the last few days. I find it important to do things that take my mind off the way I am feeling, so being around people chatting the night away is just what the Doctor ordered; my mind was at least clear for a few quality hours!

It is true to say, I have suffered greatly with various conditions and ailments over the last year, mainly due to stress and anxiety, but I am learning to live with the pain. Today however, when I woke up, it was just too much to bear and I rang the Doctors surgery for advice. After describing the situation I was made an appointment and told to come in later in the day.

This is the first time Diverticular Disease has caused me significant problems and most certainly won't be the last, so it is necessary to do what I can to stop any future complications; this is one difficulty I don't want getting out of hand.

The Doctor did the usual checks and diagnosed a Diverticulitis flare up and a particularly nasty one at that. I am hoping a course of antibiotics will cure the problem for now, if not I could end up in hospital, which I really don't want. She understood the complications of the disease and was pretty helpful in regard to living with it, stressing the importance of change and eating a simple, non-spicy diet. Plain chicken, salad or vegetables with no carbs is best.

I also discussed the reasons why I may have acquired IBS in the first place, something that has always puzzled me. The first time I noticed any digestive issues was when I was living in Spain, shortly after being given Statins to lower my high cholesterol; before that, I was perfectly healthy, except maybe for stress and the odd bout of depression. Having read up on Statins, I came across story after story of people suffering from joint pain and abdominal spasms, similar to those experienced in IBS. The timing of my symptoms, coinciding with the prescribing of Pravastatin was no accident and I firmly believe the two are related. I mentioned my concerns to the Doctor who understood what I was trying to say but told me to mention it to my own GP when I next see her.

I seem to be looking for answers don't I, well I guess I am; taking a lot of medication every day can't be good for one's constitution. Taking other pills in the past made me feel similarly unwell at times, not as bad as I do now, but nevertheless not one hundred percent. I would dearly love to stop popping statins, which are intensely nasty drugs, but I understand I am supposed to live with them for the rest of my life. I need to take advice about what to do next; even cutting my dose of Statins will help to stem the tide of pain I experience at the moment I'm sure; so a trip to the Doctors once again is in order and hopefully we can come to a long term plan to help reduce the manifestations I experience almost on a daily basis!

On Sunday my relatives from Liverpool arrived in Portsmouth, to attend Mum's funeral. Aunty Margaret, 91 year old Aunty Mary and my Cousin Angela. This was the first time I had seen them, since 2012 at my Nan's funeral and it was lovely to see them again, after so long! It does seem, that the only time I really get to see extended family is on such upsetting occasions, but nevertheless it was important they attended, to see Mother on her final passage.

In the evening we chatted and reminisced about the 'old days,' talking about Nan and Grandad, long since gone and happier times, when our scouse relatives came to visit. Of course this may well be the last time I see my Aunts. Like all our family, I lead a busy life and have no idea what the future holds. Making the most of the time I had with my kin folk from the north was amazing and brought back so many memories of my childhood. This was a special Sunday evening, perfect before we said goodbye to Mum!

We got to my Fathers house early Monday morning, where my Brother and his wife had already arrived. The atmosphere was somber as one would expect, but Dad was holding up well, under the most difficult of situations. He seemed pleased to see his Liverpool family, who sat chatting about Mum. Aunty Mary presented Dad with two folders, detailing prayers said in church for her. These two Aunts are deeply spiritual and were both brought up Catholics, so it was comforting to know, that Mother had been in their thoughts and those of the Church.

Other family guests arrived over the next hour. My Cousins Chris and Maria, Mum's sisters and Brother and her two nephews, all mourning her passing and celebrating the life of a Lady, who will always remain in all out hearts.

The funeral cortege left Dads bungalow at 12pm, followed by the family in two limousines and others attending the funeral. As I sat there, looking out at my old stomping ground passing by, many pictures popped into my head - Time spent with Mum, Dad and my Brother, growing up in an idyllic part of the World. Playing in fields, long lazy summers, walking towards the woods at the end of our road and being cradled tightly, securely by Mum, at times of trouble. This was Mum's final journey, taking a route she had travelled many times before, but it was also the last trip I would take, following in her footsteps, in the place I used to call home.

We arrived slightly late for the funeral, after trying to navigate through a rather long traffic jam. The next funeral was already waiting to one side as we pulled up. It was strange that the other funeral was for the Mother of a young lady who I work with. As selfish as it may seem. I did feel comforted by that fact, knowing I wasn't the only one grieving a loved one that day. As I've discovered, it is always best to grieve as a group, comforting each other and helping one another through the difficult concept of death.

There were a lot of people at Mum's funeral, far more than we could have expected and that made the day even more poignant. Although Mum and Dad rarely had visitors in their latter years, due to Mum's ill health, there were still many who took the time to pay tribute to someone they had known. I was amazed to see the hairdresser who did Mum's hair before her Wedding, friends and neighbours from our time living in Thorni Avenue and to finally meet Dad's Best Man at their Wedding. All of these people, made Mum and Dad who they were and all of them cared enough to remember the life of someone who touched their heart.

Along with my Brother, Uncle Paul and John and Mum's nephews Lloyd and Kye, we carried the coffin into Portchester Crematorium, where a priest from Holy Trinity Church, where Mum and Dad got married, conducted a beautiful service of remembrance. My Uncle Paul read a Eulogy I wrote for Mum, unable to speak the words myself and Mothers favourite songs and hymn, Amazing Grace was played. It was a deeply emotional occasion for all of us who attended and and event I shall always remember.

Eulogy - Mary Elizabeth Light 1949-2019

As Mary’s Brother it is my honour to read a tribute to her, on behalf of her husband David and children Luke and Kevin. The following Eulogy include the thoughts and feelings of my sisters grieving family at this difficult time!

Mary was born on the 11th February 1949, to Poppy and John Frampton, in the small market town of Fareham. She was one of five siblings and leaves behind sisters Susan, Diane, Helen and Brother Paul! All of us will miss her deeply, a bond that can never be broken. A local girl at heart, she rarely travelled far; her priority in life very much centred around her family. As a small child she was diagnosed with type 1 Diabetes, an illness that would change her life forever, as she began the process of coming to terms with her condition.

In 1962 Mary met her then future husband David, whilst at school. David ‘thought he would like a date, with this lovely looking girl’ and a year later in 1963, they began a courtship that would see their eventual engagement in 1965. David would bring along his friends and gather in Poppy and John’s breakfast room, playing darts, chatting and getting to know one another. On one memorable occasion, David missed the dart board, piercing a water pipe, leaving damage in its wake, but that didn’t dampen their spirit and they eventually married at Holy Trinity Church in Fareham in 1967.

On the way to their honeymoon in St Ives, Mary and David travelled by coach. David had placed their case in the rack above, as they sat enjoying the journey ahead. When the time came to get off this old ‘bone shaker’ David jumped up and started to pull down the luggage. Losing his grip, he dropped in square on Mary’s head. Just the first of many bumps in the road and a time they still laughed about until recently. The beginning of their journey together and a lifetime of memories that flowed!

Mary worked at Suttons the Bookshop and Keast’s in Fareham, which sold Prams and baby equipment, finally training to become a hairdresser like David in the late 1960s. She followed a full time hairdressing career into the 1970s, when she finally gave up full time work to look after their first child Luke, who was born prematurely in 1971. Still working when she could, she relished her new role as a Mum and housewife. In 1975, David and Mary’s second child Kevin was born and their family was complete. Doting over her children, Mary would never waver in her devotion to her husband and sons, even during testing times; all the while dealing with the spectre of diabetes, that was never too far away.

Sat on a chair in the kitchen as Mum cut his hair, Luke was never one to sit still, fidgeting throughout and objecting to having to suffer the indignity of having his hair cut by Mum, Luke slipped further and further downwards, at which point, his Mother turned round, grabbed the kitchen bowl and placed it firmly on his head, threatening to give him a cut he’d remember if he didn’t sit still. It was the 1970s, a time of weird and wonderful hair, but even Luke sat up straight at the thought of a bowl cut, to go with his flared trousers and wide collared shirt!

Mary became a carer for David in 1998, when her husband suffered a brain hemorrhage. Her priorities as a wife and Mother had changed and turned full circle as David began a process of rehabilitation, aided by Mary and her belief in the man she married and the words ‘in sickness and health,’ ringing in her ears.

As a ‘protector’ Mary championed the needs of others, above her own. In the words of her son Kevin, she would have made a great ‘Health and Safety Officer;’ she always saw danger in everything. Over cautious, thinking of the worst case scenario, the bathroom door would remain unlocked, when anyone was having a bath – Just in case they fell asleep and slipped under the water. This ombudsman and campaigner of safeguarding always set her clocks ten minutes fast ‘just in case,’ a tradition carried on by her youngest son. There was always an emergency toilet roll to hand and she never trusted anyone with a key to the house. In her medical bag, an emergency kit-kat, packet of Mini Cheddars and neatly folded kitchen roll; prepared for every eventuality!

Mary was also a battler and grafter, working two jobs, at the Highlands Co-Op and as a cleaner at the local school for many years and of course caring for her growing family. This was a happy and productive time, until she retired in 2007. In 2008 Mary suffered the loss of her left leg, after years of injecting insulin took its toll. She remained determined to keep walking on her new prosthetic limb, right up until 2013, when she sadly lost her right leg and was confined to a wheel chair.

Despite all the heartache Mary was delighted at the birth of her grandchildren Meghan in 2010 and Hayley in 2013, two beautiful young girls who she adored and always gave her hope for the future. Mary may have been disabled, but she was now a proud Grandmother and always looked forward to seeing them when she could. Family were the linchpin of her life and without the love of her husband, Mum and Dad, brother and sisters, children and grandchildren, the difficulties she faced would have been so much harder to bear. This local lass from Fareham left an indelible footprint in the heart of all those who knew her and will be a great loss for everyone, especially her husband David, who cared for her during her final years of life.

In life we can’t always choose the battles we fight. Mary’s road was a hard one, but it made her stronger and more determined to beat the struggles she endured. With her customary smile and stoical outlook, she fought bravely, everyday and never faltered in her desire to grasp every second of life she had left! She will always remain in the hearts of those who knew her, a hero in every sense of the word!

The wake at Cam's Hall Estate concluded a fantastic send off for Mum. I was delighted that many family members attended, many of whom I haven't seen in years. It was great to listen to their stories about her and recall the more propitious circumstances that defined her life.

2019 has been a terrible year for losing loved ones and it is a time I would rather forget, but on the plus side, I have been able to see many friends and relatives I have missed, reconnecting with a family I was estranged from for over twenty five years. The wake, made me realise the significance of my ancestry and I am finally aware of just how important these people are.

Mum's passing is a milestone that can not be matched. I know we should have been closer, especially during the 'lost' years, but as time moves on and our lives continue on this journey called life, I am happy to have had the best, most loving, dedicated and strong minded Mother in the World - A World, that was all the better for having her in it!

As Mum slowly slipped away, I looked around the room. It was stark in comparison to her other visits. There was a bag of medication on the floor and a hairbrush on her table and that was it. The minutes after Mum's death were deeply moving for all of us there, but Mother had gone, her spirit had left the room when she breathed her last. Talking had turned to crying, as it was time to say that final goodbye.

Rebecca, the nurse in charge had asked that we remove all Mum's personal effects when we are ready to leave. Dad said he wanted to stay until the sun came up, not wanting to leave Mum alone in the dark. It's not easy leaving the lady you were married to behind, after spending fifty two years together, every day of your life. Mum and Dad were inseparable, loving each other deeply, since they met at school in the 1960s. They were childhood sweethearts then, as they were when Mother finally passed away. The love and affection on my Father's face was as clear as day; he didn't want to let go, he didn't want to say goodbye.

I walked over to the bedside table and picked up Mum's hairbrush and said I would take it home with me, as a small reminder. After I removed her glasses and closed her eyes, I finally brushed her hair, as my Father had done many times before. Mum always had perfect hair. No matter how ill she was, there was always a hairbrush not too far away. Ever inch a lady she looked immaculately turned out without exception, wanting to look perfect, even in hospital. As I gently brushed her hair, I thought about all the times, she had done the same for me and I was happy to do it for her one last time. Mum was lying there fast asleep and I wanted to make sure she looked perfect before we left.

Both my parents were hairdressers, which explains why they always wanted to look their best.   As a child I was used to seeing friends and family coming round our house, coiffured, pampered and permed, made to look a million dollars. Old ladies, scary, without makeup, hair backcombed high, a purple scarf to protect them from the elements, a bit of lippy  before they went outside. I would find hair clips that had gone astray lying in the carpet, walked around pretending to be a monster, claw like hands, with hair rollers on each finger and inhaling the setting lotion and peroxide bleach, holding my nose for dear life.

Growing up as a hairdressers son was never dull, I had more Uncles and Aunts than I can remember. Fawned over by ladies, ruffing my hair and feeding me sweets, I enjoyed being sat in a chair listening to those stories hairdressers and clients talk about. Cups of tea, digestive biscuits and magazines, all part of the course when you are a hairdresser son!

Mum's hairbrush is the most precious thing in the World to me, a reminder of someone who brought me into this World, loved me unconditionally and was proud to call me her son, no matter how bad I may have been at times. Loosing someone close is hard,  the hardest thing I have ever experienced. Writing, remembering and reminiscing allows me to come to terms with loss, but tangible memories are a link to Mum, who is no longer with us. Whether a piece of jewellery, photograph or hairbrush, the meaning is the same - The love a Mother has for her sons and a bond that will always be there!

I have suffered with anxiety and depression for many years, which I cope with remarkably well these days. When people look at you, they don't really see the full story. On the surface I am a happy, cheerful and accommodating person, deep down, I am nothing but. Those who are closest to me, understand the difficulties I go through, but unless you live in my body, you will never fully appreciate the depression that makes me who I am.

There are many reasons why I have depression, many of which have been discussed in this and other blogs I have written, but the biggest factor in why I am the individual I am, is really my sexuality. I never used to like who I was; as a child growing up gay, I was always aware of my differences and realised I was different from most of my peers, consequently, I have always found friendships difficult, afraid that being gay would influence others views of me. For most of my childhood, I kept myself, very much to myself and led a very insular life as a result. When you are hiding a secret, the last thing you want is people knowing who you really are.

Depression brought about from bullying, loneliness and an inability to be myself dominated my life for years and the truth is I have never really recovered from it, still experiencing depressive episodes today. I have however learnt to cope with dark moods and outwardly you would never see the cloud that hovers above me.

For the first time in my life, I am actually doing what I want to do and not what others expect of me. Importantly, I don't have just one job, I actually have three, this way I find each day is different and I don't ever feel unfulfilled. Working in a supermarket, behind a bar and volunteering, together give me a sense of satisfaction, that I have never felt before. These positions bring out contrasting sides of my personality and I am able to enjoy each day, knowing that tomorrow will be different. If I am not working, I am blogging and writing, which also allows me to concentrate on myself, my lonely side, the selfish, self indulgent part of my personality, that details my inner thoughts and feelings, the side of me that people read about each day in this blog. Blogging is the most positive aspect of my life, but it isn't something I could do everyday. Being wrapped up in ones own sense of self importance is a sure way to detach oneself from the reality of life. I have been there before and suffered as a result.

Of course the happiest places are those spent with other people. At Cancer Research I am surrounded by friends. Everyone I work with in Commercial Road are now close and I hold them in the highest regard. These benevolent people have given me a sense of purpose in my endeavours, witnessing the best side of human nature. Their advice and conversation has got me through some very testing times over the last year and a half and without them I could well have sunk to new lows.

Equally colleagues and customers at The Newcome have also become close comrades and people I enjoy spending time with. The evening I work behind the bar in this backstreet pub, are always enjoyable and something I look forward to. People often turn round to me and ask 'why do you work so damn hard, why don't you just take a step back and relax a bit more?' The only answer I can give, is because I am genuinely happy with my lot in life and that is all that matters. I spent far too long in the past dealing with episodes of depression; now I have learnt to deal with it, I am going to make the most of however long I have left!

My life really hasn't been easy or conventional. I have had to deal with a lot of emotional stress which has taken a massive toll on my physical well-being. Many of the ailments I have today are  a direct result of the disadvantages I endured in the past. I was part of the last generation of homosexuals to be discriminated against for being who they were and this was a major stumbling block in coping with life. Happiness and contentment, not money and prestige are the most important factors when determining my direction now. Doing things that allow me to finally be the person I want to be is worth all the tea in China. Growing up feeling abandoned by society is hard, but I am pleased I have finally found a way to deal with the demons of the past and am at last enjoying the life I should have had!

Anyone who knows me well enough, understands the amount of stress I have been under lately. I work up to sixty hours a week, no longer smoke, hardly ever drink and have very little time to myself. Don't get me wrong, I am loving my life, but sometimes I just need to relax.

Cue friends and colleagues Jules and Angela...

Last week I was able to take a brief respite from the pressures around me and have a drink or two in the company of Jules and Angela. A few hours of chatting, a gorgeous meal and a moderate amount of alcohol, enough to make me feel a bit merry at least!

I haven't had such a chilled time in ages and it really brought home to me how lucky I am, to be surrounded by so many good people, with no agenda or ulterior motives. Those closest in the past were not always the best lets just say, so it is refreshing to meet genuine, demonstrative and positive people. I have had many ups and downs in Portsmouth and it hasn't always been an easy ride, but my life could have been a whole lot worse....Here's to friendship!

Friday was a sad day for me, my family and all those who knew Ray Atrill. At 3.30pm, on a rainy afternoon, Uncle Ray was laid to rest at Portchester Crematorium. I arrived with my Aunt and Cousins at 3pm and already people were gathering to say their goodbyes. Nothing however could prepare me for the number of people who arrived to bid farewell to Ray on his final journey.

Ray was a well known luminary in Fratton, having lived there for most of his life, consequently his network of friends was vast. Sat in the pews of the crematorium, I was struck by the number of people entering the hall; it seemed never ending, as the seats were quickly filled. Guests, stood wherever they could, at the sides and back of the building, quietly showing respect for a man, who touched the lives of many. It was a heartwarming display of admiration and approval for a character who will remain in the hearts and minds of all those who knew him.

Ray was given a send off like no other, surrounded by family and friends. The service was typically humanist in tone and reflected a life lived in the company of others, who shared similar interests. Everyone there on Friday sat attentively listening to the stories of a man who had lived the life he wanted and not what others would have expected. Without malice, hate or bitterness, Ray welcomed everyone into his life and all of us who celebrated his legacy on Friday, were lucky to have known him.

The memories of Ray will resonate around the pub where he and I worked for many years to come and will continue to echo around the streets of Fratton, where he walked on a daily basis. Community was important, pivotal and determining in the life Ray led. He did much for good causes and others who needed a helping hand. He was there when you needed a word of encouragement, advice or just a friendly afternoon chat. Ray was a linchpin for many, an Uncle to innumerable personalities who crossed his path and a Dad to a select lucky few, who warranted the love he shared. Ray was Ray, he wasn't perfect, but he was the backbone of a neighbourhood who looked after its own; Fratton wont be the same without him!

Goodnight sweet man!

When I was a boy, I used to carry a handbag or paper bag around with me, with all my 'bits and pieces' in. I remember my Nanny Poppy telling me that she knew I was gay, because I always had a bag in my hand. Of course, that was just my Nan being old fashioned and stereotypical. There was also an element of Nan, trying to accept my homosexuality, by making light of a particular aspect of my personality.

I am not trying to say my baby Cousin is gay, far from it, I am trying to show that this activity is a perfectly normal aspect of growing up. Babies like to explore, in all respects - cupboards, draws and handbags. My little Cousin took me back to my childhood today and it put a smile on my face. It wasn't that long ago, I was playing with Mum or Nanny's handbag, but sadly back then there were no camera phones to take a photo, like there are today.

There are many aspects of my childhood I miss and wish I had more pictures from that time in my life. I did however find this one picture of me, as a child in the 1970s, carrying my trade mark bag. I know what you are thinking? How gay I look, especially the way I am standing......Well maybe! I am sure I was well aware of my sexuality back then, I just didn't really understand what it meant.

It is great watching the younger members of our family grow up. I am particularly fond of Cain who is everything a young toddler should be. When he is my age, I am glad he can also look back at the photographs that document his life. He will have many more pictures to look through, but the sentiment is the same - Remembering those early innocent years, before life takes over and we become the adults we were always destined to be!