Childhood

Let me set the record straight, I don’t think I had a terrible childhood and ultimately both my step sisters (Paulette & Sandra) and I turned out nice & happy people.  I refer to my step sisters as that’s whom I shared most of my childhood with.  However, I’m getting to the point where I may write a post about my real mother who I love and admire dearly, and beforehand I may want to preface why I love and admire her so.

Whenever I speak to the step sisters I’m always reminded about my Dickensian-esque past.  And certainly now that I have a child some of the things that occurred are put into perspective.  Sure, whenever we talk we always mention that we always had food in our stomachs and clean clothes to wear, and we have a great deal of respect for others, but isn’t a parent/child relationship more than that?

Here are a few things that will stick with me forever:

Shat on mi Step Mother

One of the earliest memories I have was living in a flat in Eccles, Manchester.  My dad was a train driver in them days and often went to work early, this upset me.  I was about 2.  For some reason I was put in bed with my step mother, probably to calm my crying eyes.  I was naked at the time and I had my back turned towards my Step Mother.  I must have needed a poo and at this stage in my life I wasn’t toilet trained.  Consequently I pooed onto her back and this didn’t make her happy.  Now I can understand her not being happy, I don’t think I would be too happy if Darwin pooed on me, in fact I would be very wary of anyone who liked anyone pooing on them, but if Darwin did it on me I wouldn’t lock him in a dark cupboard beneath the stairs for an hour crying in his own poo like she did with me.

Spilt a Chinky (not offensive if you're referring to a food!)

Whenever there was a showing of a James Bond film on TV it got me immensely excited.  I was always discouraged from sitting with my parents in the evening so I had to spend most of my home time in my bedroom, but fortunately I had a small TV in my room.  (Clothes, Food and a TV!)  During a showing of Goldfinger I was asked by my step mother to go to the Chinese takeaway and pick up a meal for her.  On getting permission to go during the adverts I began to prepare myself for the 1.4 mile round trip sprint on my 5 speed racer (Sorry!  Food, Clothes, a TV and a Bike!  I was positively middle class really?) (I did buy the bike myself!).  

There was no way that I would make it there and back within 4 minutes but at least I would only be missing part of the film.  As the adverts came on I leapt into action and I got to the takeaway before the film started again, it was showing in the takeaway too you see.  Thankfully the order was ready to collect so I leapt on my bike and began the speedy journey home, although I was certain the homeward journey would be slower as I was carrying a plastic bag with the chinky in it.  As I reached home I felt pleased about how quick I had made the journey and mounted the curb with a little bunny hop.  However, doing this made the plastic bag swing into the spokes of the front wheel.  The spokes ripped through the plastic bag and aluminium trays causing the hot takeaway to erupt into my face and then the bag jammed and made the bike flip over front wheel first.  The pavement grazed my face and ripped my clothes and I was an image of chinky, blood and tears.  My Step Mother came running out of the house.  The tears I was crying weren't because of the pain I was in; they were in anticipation of the response I was going to get.  “You fucking stupid idiot.  Look at what you've done”, she muttered tight lipped.  She then hit me on the legs and said, “get up those stairs and get to bed”.

Dropped a Plate

At the age of 10 we had a hatch in between our kitchen and living room, it was quite the 80’s thing to have.  I wasn’t allowed to eat meals with my parents, they ate in the living room and I ate in the kitchen.  One of my duties was to wash up and in doing so I dropped a plate which subsequently smashed into many pieces on the kitchen floor.  Seconds later the hatch opened violently and my step mother viciously said, “You Fucking Cunt”.  I think this is the most powerful sentence anyone has ever said to me.  The words didn’t make me cry but the emotion and hatred over something so petty did.

He Came in Through the Bathroom Window

From the age of 10 I used to deliver a free paper in Leyland.  I had started helping my step sister on the night Margaret Thatcher became Prime Minister and then I inherited the round shortly afterwards.  As I got older I was given a key to the house.  Occasionally my parents would go out to Bingo so wouldn’t be there when I got back.  However, if I ever forgot my key (which as far as she was concerned I only did once which resulted in me being grounded and getting a good hiding!) I would have to sit on the step wait for them to get back.  The next time I forgot my key, and I forgot it several times after this, I scaled the fence of our garden.  Looking up at the back of our house I could see that the small window of the toilet was open, and although the window wasn’t directly next to the drain pipe there was a pipe leading to the window from the main drain pipe.  If I was careful I would be able to balance along this pipe and enter the house via the small window.  I could have fell and been crippled for life, but this was a gamble I was prepared to take.

Obviously delivering 500 newspapers makes the hands black and at this stage I hadn’t learned to cover my tracks.  Consequently I left black hand prints on the toilet window but this time it wasn’t me who felt the wrath.  Next door lived a woman with one big elephant leg and one normal leg, sympathetically we called her “Lurch”.  When the hand prints were discovered by my step mother she went ballistic.  “You’ve been spying on Lurch you perverted bastard”, she accused my dad, which I found strange.  Lurch had 3 daughters, Helen, Edwina and Claire, all of which “you would” and were of age, but he was being accused of perving over Lurch!  I didn’t say anything, I was far too scared.

Got Mumps

We were going to Blackpool for the day but on this occasion I had awoken with the most terrible ear ache.  I didn’t cry about it, indeed if I ever cried I got punished for crying, but as the day went on the ear ache got more and more painful.  I did try to complain but was promptly slapped on the legs and dragged to one side, “I know you’re trying to spoil my day you little bastard, now pack it in”.

I persevered and tried to forget about the pain the best I could.  The next day I awoke with cheeks like a full chipmunk.  Being a nurse she knew what it was and coldly said, “that’s why you had ear ache yesterday”.  I didn’t get an apology.

Spent Time with My Dad

At the age of 12 I went to Pontins in Southport with my dad and step mother and I loved it.  Again I didn’t get the brunt of this one, my dad did, but it set the tone for next few years. 

On the first day my dad spent an hour with me showing me where things were on the camp and also having a go on the pedalos.  I had never seen a pedalo, I was amazed.  This didn’t go down well with her.  The walls were thin in the chalets and even if they were bank vault thick I’m pretty sure I would have still heard her telling my dad off for spending too much time with me and not enough time with her.  From here on I was on my own, and not just for the holiday

.

She didn’t like me being around after that.  Both my step sisters had left home and I think I became a bit of a burden.  Like I’ve mentioned I spent most of my home time in my bedroom on her request.  They didn’t get involved in anything I did, parents evenings and school plays were excused with “we did all that with Paulette & Sandra, there’s no point to it”.  I did get to spend Wednesdays & Sunday nights with him when she was working and I do look back fondly at this time.

She always told me to keep my eyes and ears open and my mouth shut.  She told me that if I became an actor I would become gay.  She convinced me that joining the army would be an admirable thing to do.  For every minute I came in late I had to come in an hour earlier the next day.  I feared her.  But her nastiness wasn’t unique to me she was also a (I’ll use one of her words) cunt to my step sisters too.

The One Argument I Had

I dared to stand up for myself once with her and it resulted in me leaving home.

Several months previous to this argument I had met my real mother slightly by accident and I had been seeing more and more of her.  This didn’t sit well with my step mother.  On the final day of school I came home and reported in as required.  I opened the hatch and said, “I’m home”.  She was sat in my dads chair which was out of sight from the hatch and Paulette was visiting.  I could tell that her lips were tight when she angrily replied, “Get in here you”.  “O, Christ”, I thought, what had I done now?  I quickly delved into my memory to try and decipher what it could be before I entered the room but I couldn’t think of anything.

“Right.  We’re going to stop you from seeing Teresa (my Mother) because it’s not doing you any good and it’s not doing us any good.”

One of the things I liked about acting which I had come about quite by accident is total mental improvisation and I found I was good at it.  No pre-planning, in the zone, blurting it out without sounding like a complete twat.  It meant having total faith in yourself and everything you were saying.  I had first experienced it in infant school during a carol service.  Everyone was singing “Little Drummer Boy” and I was sat near a drum.  I picked up the drum and began hitting it in during the pauses and this caused everyone to laugh and I knew it would.  This continued through school.

By this time I had got to know my real mother well, and my real sister, and my half sister and brother and extended family and I wasn’t prepared to let anyone take this away again.

“No you’re not”, I replied simply.

As she started to stand up from the chair she said, “Don’t you bloody answer me back”.

I placed the palm of my hand on her forehead and pushed her back into the chair.  “Sit the fuck down”, I said.  “You’re not stopping me from seeing Teresa you fat bitch, not you, not anybody”.

“Don’t talk to my mum like that”, said Paulette.

“You can shut the fuck up too”, I quickly snapped and she burst into tears.  I wasn’t really angry with her she was just caught in the cross fire.

By this time adrenaline was rushing through me.  I felt liberated, I felt powerful.  14 years of fear was being evaporated in a matter of minutes.

“I’m fucking sick of you and from now on you’re never going to tell me what to do ever”.  I was doing a lot of aggressive pointing.  “You’re a nasty fat bastard and it ends here”.

She burst into hysterical tears and it felt good.  I continued the barrage of abuse for a few minutes more and then calmly left the room leaving my boyhood behind and walking out a man.

I went into my bedroom and sat on my bed.  I began to shake and thought to myself, “what the fuck have you done?”.  I thought any moment now she would come charging up the stairs and kick the shit out of me but it didn’t happen.  My dad came home from work shortly after the argument.  He spoke to my step mother and came upstairs.  “I believe you’ve had a bit of an argument”, he said, “you could say that”, I replied.  “Well I think you had better leave and it’s probably best that you don’t come back for some time”.

I packed my bag and cycled to my real mothers and lived happily ever after, and the next time I came back was 5 years later when I returned from the Gulf War.

Summary

Like I said in the beginning, I don’t think I had a terrible childhood.  I’m one of the happiest people I know and if I died tomorrow I would have no regrets about anything I’ve done or haven’t done.  I’m aware now that my step mother is the way she is due to circumstances that have happened in her past and I feel sorry for her.  I think my dad was irreparably damaged when he and my real mother split and I believe he just wanted an easy life.  Sarah (my sister) and I were separated shortly after she was born and if I didn’t love her as much as I do today I think I would have an excuse to be bitter, but I don’t.  I was hit as a child but I don’t think it did me any harm, I definitely don’t think of it as abuse, but don’t think I’ll be hitting Darwin when he does anything wrong.

My childhood did lack encouragement and love but I was cared for and ultimately everything worked out well in the end.