London

Grey. dishevelled..mist rising from the grills in the street. starbucks on the corner where I meet Alastair hume of spume. we discuss life over croissants and rather sickly coffee. whe helps me through some uncertainty. encourages me to pursue things and gives me ways to look at it and approach. sets me up with the arrogant lady living in a huge house who wants me to teach her kids then fires me for no apparent reason. was there an attraction? was she angry at her ex? was I the brunt of that?

the lady natasha up the street who hired me to work for her as a PA/ errand boy..and then when I send a text and end it with an x I am fired by her..turns out her successful (in monetary terms) husband is the jealous type. the feeling after is a twisted dark one in my stomach. an innocent friendly way to send a message results in a dismissal. messes with my self esteem. hurts a lot. my good nature being rejected and interpreted as me pursuing her sexually. what a pathetic man.

walking up to hampstead. haverstock hill is a challenge. but it feels good when you reach the high street. memories come flooding back of days with ben duncan on Well Street. envy of his family home in hampstead. why didn’t my parents live in London? how ironic that feels when I miss wiltshire so much and was so sad when they left. that sadness grow every year and now i’m in Bradford on avon and I feel i’ve found “home” again, FINALLY, I understand why.

London initially was where I used to come to see family. Uncle david and Aunt Debbie and my cousins sarah and sam in Wandsworth. My aunt Barbara in Battersea. A big daunting city for a town and country boy. the red buses with the top deck. the London underground I grew to hate because of my social claustrophobia. It always seemed unfriendly and too big for me when I was small. But then at Bryanston I loved to go up to town. Getting to stay at Campbell’s parents and smoke weed. Alex Cochran’s house. Coming back down to school stoned with enough weed or hash to make it another month.

Then my year off. that dark, paranoid depressing feeling in campbell’s flat. too stoned. feeling left out. uncomfortable. drugs and me don’t work. I need to get home. thinking londonnwas the place to spend part of my year off but realizing it wasn’t. I need to get home.

Coming back to campbell’s house after South America. Processing the fact he was dead. the guilt at being in South America for the funeral. Seeing my coat covered in his blood in a plastic see through police bag. The devastation the accident caused. His parents failing apart. His mum trying to seduce adam and amir because she wanted to “feel” her son again. Their marriage disintegrating and us as witnesses of the carnage. Jago. forgiveness. Tim Drewitt standing up in court and saying “no more…don’t send this young man to jail. we have all suffered enough”

working there during the summer of 1992. Living in battersea, clapham junction. working at My Old Dutch. Ecstasy. The clubs. The electronic music scene exploding. Benoit. the bi sexual manager who collapsed in a club because his boyfriend and girlfriend turned up and didn’t know about each other. Poppers. being in a gay club with my straight friend mark. Going back to benoits flat and watching one guy suck another guy’s dick and them being reprimanded. leaving high on E having had no sleep and getting on a bus to Magnus’s in Notting Hill. Sitting next to a burn victim who’s face was a plastic mask..maybe the guy from the falklands? Feeling scared and paranoid like it was a bad trip. Getting to magnus’s and drinking beers fast to calm down. going to the carnival on no sleep. surviving. dancing. partying. 

the club was called FF..I think that meant Fist Fuck. it was in turnmills. it was a sunday night and it was fully gay. my eyes were opened forever.

I didn’t have that much connection with london after that year until I moved there in 1995. 

Earlsfield road. dave and Debbies. the upstairs room. where john flatt had lived. his quaker and Buddhist vibes evident in the feel of the room. debbies therapy room next door. I had felt the peace and calm in there but not explored that world enough. it was a happy time. I loved living there. bonding with sarah and beginning a friendship above and beyond family ties. partying together. snogging a friend of hers. getting drunk and high with her. learning to love and understand sam despite our differences. feeling taken in by joy other family after my parents and left for the US. being made to feel like I had a home

my 4 wisdom teeth being removed at the same time. lying there for 2 days in such extreme pain whenever the painkillers wore off. spitting blood into a bowl. feeling it trickle down my throat..its horrible acrid taste. debbie and david being so kind. nursing me back to normal life.

LAMDA. refusing to give me my final audition because I was a little late having driven like a madman from edinburgh to the building on Cromwell road. Dave seeing my pain and anguish. Reacting so brilliantly and writing them a letter stating how unfairly he believed I had been treated. Leaving his name but nothing else at the bottom and top of the letter. A few days late I was granted another audition and then I won my place there. How good that felt. Knowing thousands had auditioned and I had won one of 30 places.

Moving into the flat in Clapham where Noel Coward had lived. I don’t really remember this. But I do remember how bad neil and Clive and Tom made me feel in my own home. How resentful I was about that and how i’ve only just talked about it during step 4. I was so fond of them both during the university years and hanging with them in Bristol sharing djing tips and our love of house music. But they made me feel unwelcome and teased me in my own flat and that stung. I couldn’t wait for them to leave.

The series of friends who came after. Adam, Peanut, Steve, Henry. Watching adam unpack a computer his father had given him to try to “buy” his love back. How excited I was for adam that he had a new computer in his early twenties and how angry and resentful he came across about it. I didn’t know why until later. When he sent the email to over 50 people explaining what had happened to him, what he’d had to endure and why he was the way he was. felt good to be the first friend to respond to him and let him know how brave he’d been and how proud I was of him. And how much that had cemented our friendship for life.

How we didn’t really respect my parents flat. My dads disappointment at finding broken furniture and carpets that hadn’t been looked after. How differently he would have treated it if he had been in my shoes. the guilt and shame I felt. But first my annoyance at his OCD tendencies and different old fashioned way of behaving. I guess I learnt lessons then. I just didn’t know it at the time. Peanut and I almost coming to blows after drinking on the staircase. henry calming us down. The night I tripped and forced a splinter of wood into my fingernail. the agonizing pain. The doctor removing my nail after anaethesicitizing my hand. I passed out and came round on the bed.

the pub drinking sessions with Steve and Ad. never really joining in and behaving how they did. Knowing I was right not to get involved and yet feeling like an outsider. watching them spit beer at each other. Steve falling and cutting his hand on the corner of clapham high street. I cleaned it up and washed it and bandaged it. Like I was his mum. Seeing the destructive side of drinking and how it blurred them both and made them unable to feel. which years later would be what I wanted and craved and pursued with an intensity. watching him rage against the end of his relationship with sarah and how jealous he could be. that latin blood boiling inside him as he punched walls and doors until his knuckles bled. 

My earlier years in London were relatively drug free. For most of my 20’s I avoided drugs. My experiences of my late teens and university years with all the ecstasy, acid and speed had scared me and damaged me mentally. I didn’t know I was bi-polar all that time. I am a warrior. I made it through without killing myself either by initiating suicide or with drugs and booze. My higher power had plans for me. I just didn’t know he/she/it was there. I ddn’t know how to tap in. I wasn’t aware of very much really.

Acting in London. what a disappointment. Even the days on the set of eastenders were an anti-climax. Too much hype which didn’t meet the reality of the machine of a soap. My friends were more excited than I was. It was a big deal to be on television in those days. Nowadays you just have to open your mouth or eyes and someone will film you. 

the disappointment of London’s burning. I had enjoyed the shoot so much. It had been fun to create a character for television based on swampy. the crusty who had become a folklore like celebrity for fighting back, hugging trees, sticking it to the man. They made my dreadlocks fairly realistic. And I had to roll a huge joint. Which i’d never been that good at. I enjoyed working with my co star and it had been a beautiful day up on the downs we went to.

Then Jacquie Sylvester called to say they’d cut my scene and it wouldn’t be aired. The crushing disappointment. I had hoped that my performance would have given me a little break and set me on my way. But I wasn’t to be.

Forming Little Giants with Jake. Going to his house in Clapham Junction. Writing “perfect man.”..being shown the sus chords and how much they have influenced my writing. making a great new friend and sharing a chunk of my life with him. Learning about the recording studio. How it all worked. watching him produce.

Nick east and futurescope. The excitement of being signed. The anticipation. the photo shoots. The showcase gig in those strange studios dressed in clothes that didn’t work. Trying to balance Cos and jake.

jamming and learning cover songs with Cos in islington. “babe i’m gonna leave you” 

The gigs at the Borderline, the Lil’ Backyard Club, The red Eye. Pigfuck (?) and having abuse thrown at us. Almost being beaten up for laughing at Pigfuck screaming horrific music from the stage. The guy threatening me with the dark look in his eye and sayin..”well at least they’ve got talent..unlike you and your gay boy band playing bollocks”

jake arriving at my flat in Clapham. we go for a walk around the common and he tells me he wants to break up the band.