Janey's Blogs - December 2006
Friday the 1st
of December 2006
11:06:41 PM
Tracing my family Tree…
I have spent the
last few days tracing my roots. It has been hugely interesting and to
be honest very revealing!
For instance my new baby niece Julia is a long line of Julia’s that stretch back to the early 1800s. My dad’s gran was a Julia, her mum was a Julia and her mum was also called Julia with the surname Derham. Very unusual name I think, but there we have it.
I also discovered
that both my great grandparents Annie and James died on the same day
in December 1952. That must have shaken the family losing both parents.
The funny thing
I came across was that the name Gunn was in my family, well we always
knew I had guns in the family for a long time!
So I have been immersed in the last century for days now and find it
really amazing how these people lived and little did they know that
one day I would be writing about them.
All those poor wee
Dutch and French immigrants who made their merry way to Scotland, marrying,
breeding and finally settling in Glasgow, never telling much to each
generation, only leaving behind Parish records and Marriage certificates,
scrawling names that they probably never thought anyone would want to
read again and never knowing that I, their great-great-great grand daughter
would finally get to run my finger over that weak blue ink.
They buried children
stricken by the measles and whooping cough, they sent sons off to war,
they became weavers and bar tenders, they married and died and I wonder
what part of that DNA was left in me. Probably none I suppose, but I
do wonder what the women of my past were like.
I would love to
know how they lived and how they died.
My mother died at
47 years and her mother died at 38 years old, but the women before that
survived into their 60s.
I traced Ashley
dad’s side of the family and they ended up Irish and French on
his side, and extremely Scottish on his mother’s, mother’s
side. They were highlanders through and through but I am sure history
tells us that no-one is truly British we are all descendants through
Scandinavians and Normans. Though Ashley tells me it’s a fact that
one in four of the world’s population are descended from China.
So if anyone out there knows the name Derham, then we may well be related!
Sunday the 3rd of
December 2006
07:25:41 PM
My Tree is Up!
I conned husband
into dragging the tree up from the downstairs cupboard. I just pushed
it onto him, we were passing the cupboard and I said “Can you go
in there and pull out my tree and decorations and help me carry them
up, I am so small, I can’t lift it” I looked all forlorn and
whimsically girlish - well in reality I probably looked like a sad hobbit-like
dwarf.
“OK hold the
door and I will get it all out” he answered.
So he carried the
two giant boxes up the stairs and let me get on with it.
I managed to rope
him in to the tree trimming by saying “Please help me, these branches
that need assembled and constructed have tiny wee colour strips to help
you sort them out in size and I am colour blind as you know, please
help me I love you….” I whined.
My tree is a bunch of green branches that are poked into a solid green
stalk that comes in tubes that you slot together, it is difficult to
build.
He sat down beside me and my gigantic mound of green plastic branches;
he sorted them all out in size, colour code and in order of assembly.
He then started putting it all together with me and before you knew
it we were trimming a tree! The very tree that he hated and tried to
make me give away rather than build for the holiday season.
I finally got it all up and tied on all my lovely sentimental decorations.
Husband was fussing and fixing little red velvet bows (this was extremely
unusual as husband has a primeval fear of velvet and normally goes foetal
rather than touch it) he made such a nice job of the decorations.
I am happy - the
tree looks amazing and the room is so seasonal….so nice.
Now all I have to do get husband to share my love of make up, cleansing
balms and Donny Osmond.
I then finally sorted out the wee nativity scene, made me think about
poor Mary…imagine being pregnant with the Son of God, then being
married to a man who never organised the delivery in advance? I mean
they had NINE months to get ready for what was going to be the most
talked about birth in the history of the WORLD! Yet they left it all
to the last minute, then he pulled her onto a fucking asthmatic donkey
and dragged her to a town where the whole place was mobbed because of
a census….the poor woman must have been dying in pain, knocking
on doors begging for a bed in LABOUR!
How she kept her
patience and accepted their “Sorry no room luv” I would have
clutched my heaving belly and screamed
“For Fucksake, I am squeezing out God’s son here; you must
have a fucking floor near a fire and couple of blankets? Help me or
I swear I will get the father of this baby to smite you with locusts….
don’t make me do this… you wont like me when I am angry”
Poor woman had to
finally give birth in a barn, surrounded by animals, then what happens?
Men arrive with gifts. No women came … just men.
Did they bring hot
tea and pain killers? Maybe a warm blanket or some soup? No they brought
Frankincense and other strange shit, just what she needed as she chewed
her own umbilical cord…. one man brought a lamb…. they already
had wee sheep and donkeys but hey one more lamb is good yes?
Poor Mary, I personally
would have punched Joseph in the balls, killed a lamb and left the baby
on the door step of the inn keeper who ignored her pleas, then fucked
off to Syria, took in a beach holiday and divorced Joseph. God could
fight over the custody battle; it was his son after all.
You see that’s why I would never have been picked to give birth
to God’s son and become a religious icon….I hate nuns!
“Deck the halls with bows of holly…lalalalalalalalal”
Tuesday the 5th
of December 2006
04:14:18 AM
Have a wonderful Christmas and very prosperous 2007 From Janey Godley & Daughter Ashley
Tuesday the 5th
of December 2006
09:19:39 PM
The Things my Brother told me…
My brother is going
through chemotherapy; he is facing up to the illness with amazing bravery.
He still makes me laugh as he is as mad as a fucking squirrel on smack.
Mij has had drug
problems for most of his life and lives on Methadone which is supposed
to help wean him off heroin, who the fuck can wean him off methadone?
No-one, is the answer.
My daughter Ashley
and I went on the train today to go visit him.
He insisted I shave
his entire head, giving him a number 1, by God he has a full thick head
of grey-ish hair and it was heavy going. He knows all his hair is going
to fall out and wants a head start on it! I felt like I was shaving
a Shetland pony!
“Do you have a hoover to get all this hair?” I asked as the
buzzing shaver ran through his scalp and thatches of hair dropped to
the floor.
“No, see that
big crack in the floorboards, just brush it all into that, that is where
I brush all the dirt into” he answered me.
“What if rats
come and use that hair to build a big nest with?” I suggested.
“Fucking hell,
I never thought about that, lets brush it up and throw it outside in
the bins” he quickly added.
His flat is less
than hygienic to be honest, but he had made a huge effort to clean it
for me coming along. His mad jumpy crazy dog Cooper, was trying to shag
my leg as I shaved him….I was trying to kick it off and make sure
I never cut my brothers head!
So then my brother
told me that he had to shake the dog off yesterday as it bit his chemotherapy
tubes that hang from a Hickman line in his chest!
“The dog thinks they are clothes pegs and because he goes out the
back and jumps up and bites the clothes pegs off the line, he thinks
my chemo tubes are for biting every time I bend over and they dangle”
he told me.
“Fucking hell,
keep them covered, you can’t have your crazy dog biting those tubes
out of your flesh” I screamed.
“Yes, I know so that’s why I have clothes pegs in my pocket,
it gives him something to chew…. look” he said.
In his hands were a selection of coloured clothes pins and the dog snapped
them off him immediately!
He then went onto tell me he was in the street last week and half naked
man in bare feet carrying a cup of tea escaped from the local mental
hospital approached him and asked my brother if he was in ward 5.
“I told the
mad bastard to fuck off; I mean he was the one in bare feet carrying
a plastic mug of hot tea in the street, why would he think I was in
a mental ward?” My brother gasped.
“I don’t
know why he thought that, what were you wearing?” I asked him as
I shaved his wee grey head into what can only be described as a ‘rapist’
hairstyle.
“I had on my
pyjamas but I had a coat on top and my slippers, but I was only going
to the chemist to get my methadone, so I never dress up for that, the
pharmacist always laughs at me and we joke about my dress sense”
he looked indignant at me.
“Well two men meeting in the cold wearing pyjamas seems sensible
to me, God knows why anyone thought either of you belonged in a mental
ward beats me” I added sarcastically.
It makes me sad; he lives alone and yet has all these posters and news
cuttings of me on his walls. It is so touching, my daughter gulped when
she saw them.
Ashley can play
guitar and my brother has his guitar in the flat, so she sat with him
and played songs and they had a sing-a-long to all his favourite tunes.
It was lovely; he cheered her on and was so proud of her guitar playing.
My brother is clearly a funny mad character, he never stops making me
laugh, he is very ill and I worry for him. He is lonely and too bloody
faraway from me to keep a good eye on, so I can only get through once
a week.
I hope he comes through his chemotherapy with the same sense of humour he has now.
Thursday the 7th
of December 2006
09:18:25 PM
I Love New Zealand…
I got an email from
the New Zealand Comedy Guild; they let me know that I have been nominated
‘Best International Guest’ regarding the show I took over
there in May this year!
How lovely is that?
I find out who wins the award on 17th December. I am up for the award
with tow other international comics.
Now we all know how crap my record is at winning awards, I am always
the bridesmaid and never the bride when it comes to any award schemes!
But it is amazing to be nominated.
Went into town today
to try and find a winter warm coat that doesn’t make me look like
a woolly mammoth….you see I am small and when I wear padded heavy
coats I look like a fucking wee fat squirrel. So I gave up and decided
that the old coat I used to have will have to do.
I fly to London
tomorrow; I am so looking forward to having a party with the Crown Lawn
crew! They have invited me along to enjoy their festivities with them
and I am so touched.
Been getting through my BAFTA screeners, the industry people send me
the DVD’s to watch in advance of the BAFTA awards in February and
I am loving the task.
I have to say that
the best movie I have ever seen is ‘Little Miss Sunshine’
it is just wonderful and so fucking funny, you must go see it. The script
is so sharp, the totally character driven screenplay is so awesome it
makes the film so damn watch-able and the Grandfather in the film is
just the best grandpa you are ever likely to come across in any movie.
So I will be off the laptop for two days as I am not taking it with
me to London. See you all soon.
Sunday the 10th
of December 2006
01:44:48 AM
My embarrassing Moment with a pop star!
I had a great night
in London at the Crown Lawn party; I was so excited to go to a Christmas
Lunch with the lovely Angela and her friends. Angela’s business
is property and you have no idea how much I appreciate the accommodation
she provides me for me in London…..I kid you not Madonna and Tom
Cruise would be hard pressed to find anywhere as chic and so beautifully
located as the place Angela gets me.
I always feel like a star when I lie in my huge king-size bed in the
room with marble under floor heating. I giggle and remind myself how
thankful I am as I think back to the times as a child when I lay in
my dirty sheets picking fleas off my skin in Glasgow in the 1960s….I
would be starving and couldn’t wait to get to school the next day
because we got a school lunch, I would get up and my bare feet would
cramp on the freezing floor boards and stand in chittering cold bathroom
and try to wash with no soap and get dried with a filthy sour smelling
towel…..and there I was in a huge en suite bathroom, marble warmed
floors, thick white towels, Big Ben chiming dutifully at my bedroom
window and winter trees covered in small white lights twinkling in the
street.
Can you believe this is my life now? How lucky am I?
Angela not only gives me Celebrity Accommodation she gave me the most
fabulous expensive Christmas gifts I have EVER had… I got a Bottega
Veneta leather purse (It is very chic, and there was a waiting list
for this recently!).
I also got a fur
scarf, a set of vintage Lauder perfumes and the most wonderful hand
sewn silk Butler and Wilson scarf! How wonderful?
I was gob smacked, I have NEVER had such kindness and cannot thank her
enough….and to make it worse, as I didn’t know there would
be gift giving, I brought a scented candle…YES a fucking scented
candle…I wanted to eat my own womb with embarrassment, but Angela
has this amazing knack of making you feel wanted and at ease. I am so
grateful to her.
I had to leave the party as I had an early flight this morning. I also
had to go to Groucho Club to meet Monica as I had some paper work for
her.
I love the Groucho,
as I walked in I chatted to my friend Lola who works there and she and
I got talking about an event she was at that Roland Gift from Fine Young
Cannibals was playing at.
They were my favourite band from the 1980s and I was so in love with
Roland Gift the lead singer, I mean I had serious sexual fantasies and
a HUGE crush on him….I told Lola this and she was laughing at my
descriptions of all the dirty things I wanted to do this talented husky
voice sexy man…I did go into minute details.
So I met Monica, we sat and waited in the Groucho reception for a cab
and then Lola came over holding the hand of ……Roland Gift
saying “ This is Janey, she really has a huge crush on you”
My fantasy sexy singer stood there, staring with incredulity at Lola’s
vivid description of my sexual fantasies that involved him, I tried
to roll myself up into a small ball and pretend to be a hedgehog, Roland’s
sexy eyes bore into mine and he smiled that dirty smile that I had dreamt
of, I wanted to die with horror and shame…Monica was pissing herself
laughing and Roland took my hand and hugged me tightly and whispered
into my red burning embarrassed ear “Thank you, I do like being
licked”
I meanwhile gabbled
5000 words a second as Lola stood there, finished her ‘Janey wants
to fuck Roland Gift since 1983 announcement’ and smiled, threw
out her arms and shouted “ I love making dreams come true”
Roland kissed me, winked and walked off (the poor man had to be nice
to this mental exhausted Scottish woman who was lugging a huge Santa
bag and had bright red cheeks and who couldn’t make eye contact).
There can be nothing more horrifically awkward than meeting a man you
had a huge crush on and someone explaining your sexual fantasies of
them TO THEM as you watch on…..I can laugh now, but I actually
was going to pretend I had fainted to get out of it all…..poor
man!
So all in all I had an eventful night, great gifts and Roland Gift!
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday the 13th
of December 2006
06:56:13 PM
Blood, sex and tears…
Well there was blood,
last night as I was compere at Glasgow Jongleurs. I decided to leap
off the stage as I brought on the first act and promptly crashed to
the floor and ripped a big hole in the knee of my tights and blood seeped
out of my flesh. The good news is NO ONE saw it as the lights are dark
in the corner where I jumped and the act was getting a big applause
as he grabbed the mic!
I am such a dick! What made me think I was still 14 years old and can
jump like that? My knees recalled youth but my torso reminded them that
I was middle aged and buckled in protest!
As if that wasn’t enough drama for one night, here’s more….I
was standing at the Dee-jay box chatting to Jay our music man when a
tall fat grey haired man approached me “Hey Janey, remember me?
You gave me a mention in your autobiography” he boomed at me with
open arms.
I gulped quietly
and stared at him, I don’t recall this mans face. Is he Barra my
first boyfriend? Is he one of my husband's family who I haven’t
spoke to in years? “I am sorry, I can’t remember you at all”
I answered smiling.
“Well, I am the detective that searched your father in law's house
the day we found the guns” he laughed and hugged me, as if this
was the way you normally greet people who you have jailed in the past.
“Holy Fuck! You are indeed” I still strained to hug the man
who changed my life back in 1994.
“Janey, it
is so good to see you, I am no longer in the police. I remember talking
to you that day about acting and comedy, do you remember?” He asked.
“Yes amongst other stuff that we chatted about that day, like guns
and bullets I mean there was so much we said I can hardly recall the
idle chit chat” I replied sarcastically but with fond humour.
“Well anyway, you spoke with such passion about how you hated being
in the pub business that you wanted to act and write, so it made me
think back to my original career choice and soon after we met I left
the police and now work as an actor and am involved in music” He
beamed at me.
I recalled that man back in 1994; he was the ‘nice’ copper
of the two that arrested me after finding a cache of arms in my late
Father-in-law's house (The police found more weapons of mass destruction
in that house than the US army found in Iraq) Anyway, he was kind to
me and I always appreciated that, it was the most terrifying day of
my life.
I was worried that I would end up in prison for being in possession
of my in-laws weapons and one of that family would be left to raise
my child (We all know how that would have turned out! - No University,
teen pregnancy and a predilection for fake tan and cheap gold)…so
thank god I was out after one night in the cells.
“Janey I am so proud of you, honestly I am, you never belonged
with those people and that family were so crooked, that man you married
would only have dragged you to the pits of the earth, good for you getting
away from them, the bunch of no gooders that they are and making your
self successful” he grinned.
“I am still married to him and love that man actually” I spoke
with a big smile.
“Fuck I am sorry, he was kind of nice and not like the rest of
his brothers” he gasped trying hard to reconcile his statement.
“That’s ok man, I know what you mean” I answered.
We parted and he went off to his table with a big smile to tell his
mates who were all watching our meeting.
Life is stranger than fiction, that’s for sure….how nice to
meet that guy again and to know he read my book and to accept his congratulations
on what he saw as my success…so nice.
Sunday the 17th
of December 2006
11:07:01 PM
Christmas Shopping is Evil…
I cannot believe
that I actually went into town on a fucking Saturday this near to Christmas
with a ten year old boy. My nephew Shaun and I had to keep each other
company as his mother went for his ‘Santa gifts’.
Shaun explained that he knew Santa wasn’t real and that his mum
buys the presents. I smiled and we grabbed each others hand and raced
off to the big fancy shop called Fraser’s in Buchanan Street. It
has been a department store in Glasgow for a century and the blond sandstone
building is architecturally awesome, huge pillars on the inside and
out, stone sculptures hanging off the top façade….so wonderful.
We followed the colourful toy floor stickers that trail at the start
of the store entrance and headed up the big cherry wooden staircase
decked in the most beautiful decorations I have seen this year. Shaun
gasped at the hanging toys from the ceiling and raced up the steps till
he reached the top TOY department.
He quickly headed for the ‘Boys Toys’ section and I could
hear him yell ‘Awesome’ at the top of his voice when he came
upon the massive robotic dinosaur that was being demonstrated. We browsed
the area and discussed various games and computer stuff that was all
out for display. I bought him a small James Bond car with working ejector
seat, he was so happy and clutched it to his chest as we made our way
out of the store.
Shaun being polite held the massive wooden and glass exit door ajar
to let some ladies enter and they all smiled and thanked him, then a
lady in a fur coat stropped past him without even a glance or word of
thanks as he struggled to keep the heavy door open.
An elderly woman
in a formidable looking trench coat and boots barked at the woman who
brushed past Shaun and shouted in the posh-est Scottish voice I have
ever heard “Excuse me madam, but if you thank children and appreciate
them for being polite, it breeds encouragement and praise, your manners
are dreadful” The fur lady turned on her heels and looked at the
trench-coated lady and then at Shaun.
Shaun stared up at the fur coated lady through his wee spectacles; he
smiled at her and the furry woman just walked off in a huge strop.
The elderly lady
in the trench coat bent down to Shaun and said “You are a lovely
helpful young man and your mother must be proud of you”
Shaun gave her his
mega watt smile and turned to me and said in the loudest voice “Aunty
Janey, that old posh woman nearly had a punch up with that big fat woman
wearing the cat coat”
The elderly lady
laughed out loud and walked off waving to Shaun.
I laughed my ass
off at the ‘cat coat’ comment and took him to meet his mum.
We then proceeded
to battle against the tide of grumpy parcel laden Glaswegians as they
too made their way through the busiest city centre shopping day I have
seen in years.
People spending
millions on presents….its crazy!
I told Shaun how
as a kid, we used to get a stocking with a tangerine inside it and a
small board game like Ludo or a doll for our Christmas, he was amazed
at how little we got. I explained that back in the 1960s we didn’t
have that much cash and we just accepted it.
“Aunty Janey,
you must miss your mum because she is dead” he said looking at
me with those big brown penny eyes he has.
“What made
you think about my mum Shaun?” I asked him.
“Well I was
imagining you as a wee girl at Christmas and then I pictured your mum
talking to you and then I remembered she was dead and I felt sorry about
that” he spoke quietly.
I told him how my mum would have loved him; she would have been a wonderful
great- grandmother to him had she lived long enough to see him. That
only led to more questions about my mothers death and I wasn’t
sure if Shaun had been told how she died, my mum was murdered and I
didn’t want to have to tell him in case that wasn’t something
he was to be told until he was older. It wasn’t really Christmas
shopping conversation to be honest.
At that moment his mum arrived on the horizon, she was laden down with
giant Santa bags and a huge smile. Thank God - I thought to myself,
no more awkward questions from my wee favourite sensitive nephew.
So there we have it, I hate shopping!
Wednesday the 20th
of December 2006
11:30:39 AM
What a day!
I met up with an
old pal called Big Betty. I knew her from my pub days and she is a right
funny character. She asked me all about my work in comedy and loved
chatting about my autobiography as she recalled all the incidents in
my past.
I decided to open
up my laptop and show her some of my sketches, the one she requested
is the short film on You Tube of Ashley and I performing the skit about
Ashley being ‘Special Needs’ girl.
As we were watching
the sketch it slowly dawned on me that she had a Downs Syndrome cousin
and I started to feel awfully odd….she simply pursed her lips and
looked me in the eye and said
“I really don’t approve of this you know my cousin Sally had
special needs, I am offended at this, and she never asked to be born
that way”
I paused and replied “Actually Ashley did this sketch because when
she went to the local kids club, she always recalled how Sally would
beat her up for crayons, Sally was 28 years of age and Ashley was 3
years old, she told me that she always had to take the crap and no one
would help her, so she figured that there was comedy in the manipulation
that Sally wielded on her”
Big Betty agreed…slightly and smiled through gritted teeth.
The conversation continued and Big Betty decided to tell me how she
lives downstairs from “Three Darkies from Nigeria, and that the
Pakis who work with her really smell funny and stink”. I gasped
at the sheer amount of political incorrectness spilling from her wee
funny mouth and shuddered.
“I find that kind of talk offensive, I have a relative who is half
Indian and funnily enough he never asked to be born that way either,
although he is very happy and we would never change the way he is,”
I snapped at her.
She burst out laughing as did I and she said “Well we are both
right, I suppose Sally is retarded and your relative is a Paki”
“Both of us are wrong actually” I said.
Thursday the 21st
of December 2006
07:33:21 PM
Seeing my brother…
I had to go through
to Falkirk yesterday to catch up with my lovely brother who not only
has HIV, he now has cancer but is fighting it well.
Mij has had various drug issues in his past and this combined with the HIV and cancer would make many a man crumble…NOT my crazy brother he is just so fucking funny and spirited…he called me recently and actually said “Janey I worry about bird flu”
I laughed out loud
and said “Mij, you have had HIV since 1986, you have came through
heroin addiction, you have fucking cancer I don’t think a pigeon
is going to kill you!”
He has a mad jumpy dog called Cooper whom he loves dearly and it keeps
him going.
He lives alone and I worry about him being lonely so I go through to
the house that is just an organised tip (but much cleaner in the past
year than ever…thank God) and spend the day with him.
I got to Falkirk rail station, popped into the supermarket to pick him
up some food and then jumped on a bus to his street. The bus cost £2…that’s
outrageous £2 for a single short bus trip? I only get charged
a £1 in London I was angry that they charged that amount. The
people out there are hardly rich and that’s just mental.
Anyway Mij was waiting at the stop to meet me and Cooper was dragging
him all over the pavement barking and jumping, poor Mij loves the dog
but the animal is clearly too powerful for him. I love Mij’s funny
stories and we stocked up his fridge and sat down for tea. Cooper sat
there staring at my sandwich and whined for bit as I ate it all up,
then the daft dog decided to try to shag my leg. His big sharp claws
gripped my ankle and he humped my calf!
Cooper has really
short white and brown hair and looks a bit like a big Jack Russell dog
mixed with a greyhound!
“Fucking stop it you mad bastard, Janey is your Auntie” Mij
shouted, as if the dog can only hump humans who are not related! I giggled
and shoved the excitable animal off me.
I remembered that I had brought the Scotsman newspaper to show him,
as I had a big article in the paper that I wrote about heroin and prostitution.
He was very impressed and we both chatted about drugs and women who
go ‘on the game’ to provide their habit. Mij asked me if he
could keep the paper, I agreed and he stuck it on his wall with all
the other posters and newspaper clippings. It always feels funny sitting
in his living room surrounded by my face in various different shaped
and sizes.
Mij and I chatted about his grand kids whom he loves dearly, they live
far away and he really misses them. We talked about books we had read
and then he spoke about our mum and my book. Now my autobiography really
does blow the lid off our family and the sex abuse I suffered from an
uncle of ours and it also charts Mij’s demise and his violence
towards our mum who died in 1982.
He has NEVER spoke
about the book and I had no real idea how he felt about it, and he told
me he hasn’t read it but got second hand information about it from
a mate.
“I feel so guilty and awful about how I treated my mammy Janey,
I hit her” he mumbled through tears.
“Yes, I know Mij but she created that relationship with you, she
cultivated it and you were a product of her spoiling you as a child,
you were the first born and she doted on you. When dad left she became
very angry and she somehow enjoyed fighting with you in a strange way”
I replied.
“I think what you did was very wrong, you bullied me as well and
I know that you loved me, you told me that many times, but I think your
depression even back then was clearly apparent, I am not excusing you
Mij but there is a bigger picture to this, you never beat her and left
her crying, YOU both fought and she took part in that and goaded the
fight because she needed somehow to express her shame at dad leaving”
I added and I believe that.
Mij sat there in silence and I believe to this day that kids who hit
their parents or physically fight with them are reacting to ‘learned
behaviour’.
Mij never did walk in, beat up my terrified mother and make her do stuff
against her will, mum and he both scratched, punched and kicked each
other, she would run at him and throw things and fight till he reacted
and then would sit and cry and hug him. Both of them crying and being
sorry to each other. It was very disturbing for me as a kid.
I explained to him that that’s how I wrote about it in the book.
As we sat there in silence I looked down to Cooper who was now lying
on his back showing me his white stomach, the pink skin showing through
and there crawling up the short white hairs was a FLEA…..I was
shocked but immediately reached down and plucked it from his flesh and
threw it straight into the gas fire and heard it crack.
Much in the same
way my mother used to do when she plucked fleas from my skin as a child.
“What the fuck was that?” Mij screamed.
“A flea, fucking hell Mij Cooper has fleas” I screeched and
jumped up scratching my legs.
“He has been staying at my mates house and he has cats, I have
to leave him there when I get chemo, they must have given him fleas,
I will go get the flea treatment from the bathroom and we will do it
to him” Mij jumped up, Cooper barked and we all ran into the bathroom
to get the magical flea killer drops.
Cooper sat quietly as we put the drops on him and then both Mij and
I started scratching ourselves. Cooper lifted his back leg and scratched
his tummy with an awkward claw upwards…it was so funny as the position
was so clumsy looking. There we were all three of us clawing away, I
scratched Cooper in the places where he can’t reach and he was
really loving it, he stood there and let me run the sharp metal brush
through his back, if a dog could have smiled then he was doing it!
So I finally made
my way home, and Glasgow was very dark when the train pulled into Queen
Street station.
Husband and I went
shopping as soon as I got home and I was exhausted to be honest, but
last night as I finally climbed into bed, I recalled that horrid flea
and have spent the whole night clawing my flesh and had dreams of being
a kid with insects and lice creeping through the folds in my skin at
the back of my knees! YUK…
I woke up this morning and had what can only be described as a ‘Rape
Shower’ I scrubbed every bit of my skin and stood under a blasting
hot shower till in finally felt clean.
Goodness knows if I actually have fleas, I will die if I do!
Friday the 22nd
of December 2006
09:43:02 PM
Abi at the Nativity….
My wee three year
old great- niece Abi went along to watch her big brother Shaun at his
school Nativity. Her mum is my niece Ann.
Ann has three kids,
Shaun, Abi and Julia.
She recently got
married to the father of Julia but has two different fathers to Shaun
and Abi.
Her husband is a
wonderful step dad to the kids and they make a lovely wee family and
I am so proud of them all, especially Ann who came through a lot having
kids quite young, yet managed to find the right man.
Abi is my favourite
funny wee great niece who has more than enough of my DNA to cause trouble
daily!
As Shaun stood on stage and sang “Once in Royal David’s City”
Abi piped up loudly “Who is David mummy?”
Her mum tried to
speak quietly said “Its part of the bible story now be quiet we
can talk later” and patted Abi’s wee chubby legs that were
covered in bright red tights.
“My daddy's name is David, but he isn’t living with us, I
have a step dad called Rob” Abi insisted in telling an elderly
lady in front of them.
“Mummy why is that child pregnant, you were pregnant last week”
Abi loudly announced.
“Abi, I wasn’t pregnant last week, your baby sister is nearly
six months old, now shush please” Her mummy got irritated.
“Is she pregnant with baby Jebus?” Abi carried on.
“His name is Jesus” her mum hissed “She is being Mary
in the story, remember we told you it?”
“Yes I remember and that man isn’t Jebus’s daddy is he?”
Abi yelled now.
“Abi, stop shouting, yes that’s right he is not the father
of the baby Jesus” Her mum added through gritted teeth as adults
around started giggling.
“Who is Jebus’s daddy then?” Abi now stood up and faced
her mum in the church aisle.
“God is Jesus’ daddy; can we talk about this later please?
Now sit nice and watch the show” Her mum now exasperated.
“I have a step dad like Jebus, but who is God then? Where is he
up there on the stage mummy?” Abi spoke-now getting louder.
“You don’t get to see God, he doesn’t always turn up
now Abi please shush and we can talk later” her mum started to
get frantic as people were staring.
“Is he like Shaun’s daddy? Coz he never shows up does he?”
Abi nodded her head and shouted to the stage “Shaun… God is
like your daddy coz he never shows up when he is s’possed to”
Her mummy then grabbed Abi’s wee fat cheeks and hugged her close
to shut her up….how I WISH I had been there when Abi was trying
to make sense of God.
I would have cheered
her on.
Ann called me to tell me and I couldn’t stop laughing, I wish one of the parents had brought along a video camera and filmed her, how funny would that be on YOUTUBE?
Wednesday the 27th
of December 2006
01:09:11 AM
So that was Christmas….
We had the most
wonderful Christmas lunch that my daughter cooked. She made this wonderful
lamb joint with the crispiest roast potatoes, for dessert we had a homemade
pannacotta with fresh berry compote! Where did she learn to make that?
I was impressed.
The downside is,
I haven’t been feeling well. Ever so slightly vomitty…just
this awful sick feeling lingering in my tummy for days has been getting
me down.
The upside to my life is, my brother Mij who has cancer and going through
chemo is absolutely well! Years of taking various drugs have obviously
made him immune to the after effects of the medication he is on! Can
you believe that he hasn’t been sick yet or lost any hair? I am
impressed. Who said the drugs don’t work?
I went up to Shettleston today to see my other brother. We sat in his
local pub and one of his old friends came over….I knew this guy
since I was a small child. He was very drunk and also has mental problems
(he once jumped off a bus at 30 miles an hour and his legs were only
dong 20…my brother told me, and he landed on his head)
Anyway the guy was
loud and obviously the ‘pub pest’. I smiled and shook his
hand. The man made these really odd grimaces and over the top snappy-fingered
twitches.
“Your book
was full of shit” he shouted and then made a face that was a cross
between Robert Di Niro and Coco the clown.
My brother faced
him and shouted “Fuck off and don’t pick on my sister, now
go annoy someone else”
The scary man mumbled
something, they then had a small bit of a Mexican stand off and the
man shuffled off.
“You don’t have to get that wound up, he is allowed his point
of view, I did write about his street and he is entitled to his opinion”
I spoke to my brother.
“Yes, but his opinion is warped and I don’t want you haven’t
to listen to that shite” My brother said.
Then the barmaid butted into the conversation “Janey I got your
book” she held up my hardback autobiography and the pub went a
wee bit quiet.
People looked over,
faces I knew…guys I went to school with…standing there with
grey hair and sons taller than them…all smiling and lifting a beer
to me in a kind of ‘well done’ gesture.
“Shall I sign it? You can sell it for more if it’s signed”
I laughed.
I signed her book and looked around the bar where my daddy had stood
when he was a young man, I looked over to where my mammy used to sit
with her pals and somewhere in my head I wondered what the fuck I was
doing back here….holding that book in my hands.
The book that told
everyone that my uncle was my rapist, they all knew my uncle, he also
stood here cheering on his football team with just about everyone at
this bar.
Yet they smiled
and somehow gave me the nod of approval. Maybe I needed it; maybe that’s
why I was here.
My brother and I walked out of the bar and he headed home.
So did I ….but not to my current home but to my childhood home
that held so many memories for me.
I walked straight
up Kenmore Street. My heart leapt when I looked at the window across
from my old flat, the flat that used to be where Peter Greenshields
lived, he was the guy my mum took up with after she and my
dad split up.
A woman pulled back the curtains and I could see right into her room,
I could see the wallpaper on her ground floor flat wall. I recall Peter
and my mum sitting there. Then he murdered her in 1982, he took her
down to the River Clyde and we got her back in a body bag.
My soul shuddered, the wee woman stared at me and then she smiled and
waved at me. I didn’t know her, I waved back.
I walked up to my
old close entry to the flats where I lived. I could see a Christmas
tree at our old corner bedroom window. That’s where we used to
have ours.
I remembered so
well, lying in that room, the darkness was being broken with red and
yellow flashing lights, twinkling away. I recall standing at that window
running my fingers through the frost on the inside, making wee Santa
Claus faces on the glass.
I walked up to the
close entry; there is a door there now. A security door they call it,
there was never a security door when I was a child. Closes in Glasgow
never had doors on the close entries; we could run through everyone’s
closes, long thin concrete hallways that lead to back courts….its
how we had our fun as kids. It’s where we kissed our first boyfriends;
it was where couples got that snatched kiss before going into their
wee flats.
I was looking out over the view that I used to see as a child and the
door opened behind me “Do you want in?” a young guy asked
me.
“Thanks”
I said and started up the stairs. I had spent the first 18 years of
my life on those stairs, I walked down those stairs to get married,
and I played on those stairs. I ran away from my abusive uncle down
those stairs.
I slowly walked up and came to my old door; well it’s a new door
now, not my old door from the 60s and 70s. I sat on the step and could
hear people’s lives going on behind the doors. Shouting and laughing,
televisions blaring and music playing….I wished I could hear my
mammy shouting “Janey, get up here, you’ve got school in the
morning”
I won’t ever hear her again, but her voice is not forgotten. I
wrote it in that book. My child and her children and their children
and hopefully their children will still be able to know who my mammy
was….when they read the book.
Merry Christmas Mammy… I miss you.
Saturday the 30th
of December 2006
06:36:44 PM
How many fights
can I have?
There I was dragging
my slightly sick ass into town to take back a gift that I bought husband.
Ok…here’s
the story…I bought him a fancy silver case that I thought contained
a beard trimmer, what it actually contained was a hair dressing set.
This I should have known because the cardboard sleeve around the box
said “Hair grooming kit” I mistook hair for beard…easy
mistake it was the Christmas shopping sweats that made me choose wrongly.
I discarded the cardboard wrapping as husband opened the gift and he
ripped it up for recycling (husband is currently obsessed with recycling-
I am too and thought I could swap him for Eminem, turns out recycling
isn’t swapping…who knew?)
Anyway I took the
silver box back to Boots the chemist.
The young assistant with a rash of spots who looked about 17 years old-
took one look at the silver box, took in my explanation that I thought
it was a beard trimmer; he noticed the cardboard sleeve missing and
said loudly “I cannot take it back in this condition”
I said “What condition? Untouched? It’s perfectly unused?”
He said “There was a cardboard sleeve on this and it’s now
gone”
I said “Well, now I have two complaints, the woman who sold me
this knew I asked for a beard trimmer and she not only sold me the wrong
goods, but she screwed me for the cardboard sleeve”
He said “Are you honestly trying to tell me that this box came
without a sleeve?”
I said “Yes, (I was lying I couldn’t explain my husbands compulsive
recycling habit) Yes It never came with a sleeve, if it did come with
a packaged sleeve I would have known it was hair dressing kit and not
a beard trimmer, now I am disgusted”
He said “Then how did she scan it into the till as the barcode
is on the sleeve?”
He looked smug at
his question, he thought he could break me at this point, but he didn’t
know I have been questioned under pressure for concealing guns and weapons
in my life.
“Well as you know all electrical goods are kept behind the counter
in the Braehead store because of the sheer amount of thievery going
on and she must have scanned it from the pile she had near her with
her scanning gun” I smiled and added
“When did you
assume that working for Boots made you Monsieur Piorot, do I look like
a 1920s cigarette girl who stabbed someone with an art deco lamp? Just
refund the goods, my husband doesn’t have a lot of head hair but
has a huge beard, it’s like dating a bloke from ZZ Top, so deal
with it”
A man behind me laughed, I laughed but spotty sales boy didn’t.
I then asked for the manager of the store, by this time I was NOT leaving
till I got a beard trimmer in return for the silver cased Hair dressing
kit I mistakenly bought but refused to accept my guilt in the part.
The young assistant made a phone call to bring down a manager “She
is really sarcastic and difficult and I think she is lying” I heard
him whisper on the phone to the manager who was now having to brace
himself to meet ‘Eva Braun the difficult customer’ (which
is a good reference as Braun make shavers).
I stood my ground beside the photo counter, I saw the manager come along
the baby bottle aisle ….I made good eye contact and smiled broadly
(this always makes them scared, never act agitated it throws them and
they don’t know how to deal with a pleasant but forceful customer).
As the boy approached me (he was actually younger looking that the spotty
assistant if that was legally possible) “Hello Miss Godley”
he spoke.
Shit - how did he know my name? Now I was thrown.
“I saw you last week on stage at Jongleurs- you are very funny,
now how can we fix this? I tell you what go and pick a beard trimmer
and this will be all sorted” He said with confidence that shook
me.
I felt horrible, he knew I was lying, the sales boy knew I was lying,
I wanted to die, then I figured that ‘Hey who cares…lets get
a beard trimmer for Grizzly Adams’
I am going to be nice to people for the whole of 2007 and not lie anymore
to sales assistants….or I am going straight to hell, but at least
I get smooth kisses before I go.
Sorry sales boy and assistant manager child …I promise to be good.