Murder Accusation Update at End of Blog
I love the sunshine, I slept well with no nightmares and that makes me HAPPY, though I have now got THREE spots on my face…maybe I am going back in time?
Ok the year is 1979, I am finally 18 years old and am off to buy vodka and dance at the local disco. My curly hair is IN thanks to Olivia Newton John’s appearance in Grease, and yet I can still be post punk thanks to my inherent state of poverty beautifully handed down to me by my parents and their forbearers…safety pins are tres chic!
I am desperately trying to get a job after having lived for nearly a year in the seaside (shit town, smelly beach) of Redcar and I am dreaming of being a disc jockey, yet there seems to be a distinct lack of enthusiasm from my local Glasgow JobCentre…”Did I want to be a secretary?” No I fucking did not and my constant sweary-ness would hamper any chance of that! I have a great collection of music, which is my immense passion in life…can women be DJ’s? No apparently!
So at the age of eighteen, I decide I am going to travel…this time outside UK and hope that my poverty and Glasgow smell does not follow me. Problem is I need money, so I take a job waitressing in said LOCAL DISCO and love meeting people and making enough cash to buy a new dress and my first real haircut in a salon, not my crazy drunk mother attacking my curls with defiant Protestantism and blunt scissors, it resembled my hair being cut with wooden spoons!
Surely things can only get better? Well they did, I met the local disco’s owners son and start my first big love affair (sex and everything, he doesn’t even get tangled in my hair!) and well… the rest is history. We married the next year and next month we will celebrate our Silver wedding anniversary.
I did eventually get to travel the world, but not as a DJ but as a comic and I don’t regret much (some stuff I do, but I can’t tell you all that)
Murder Accusation Update…
Him-“Do you want to go on holiday to celebrate our anniversary?”
Me-“Did you kill that man?”
Him-“I am trying to be romantic, why do you bring murder into that?”
Me-“Come on tell me”
Him-“Your hair and tongue needs cut”_