I've just stumbled across a blog called 'Dear You', which accepts post from anyone and everyone who can write a sentence or a paragraph or a whole essay to one person that they want to forgive, forget, remember or regret. The only thing is, you replace their name with 'You'. I've been reading through a lot of these for the last hour, and during that time, have come up with a small piece that I want to write. Sounds a bit silly and trivial, but I suppose, it could be ... therapeutic?
...
Dear You,
I was new to this. It had taken me years to accept me for me and you were the first person I had met when I had accepted it. I know we talked for what seemed like ages beforehand, possibly months, met up a few times for a drink, all the usual stuff. But when I took the plunge and went on a night out with you for the first time, despite horrific nerves and negative scenarios flooding my mind, it felt real. It felt as if we were both as nervous as each other, yet both as excited aswell. Although the alcohol flowed that night, I will always remember it as one of the most enjoyable, scary, nerve-wracking yet unbelievable nights of my life. Dancing the night away, as, despite it being early days, I honestly felt as if I had found you. We had things in common, you were funny and quirky and seemed to get on with everyone as if you had known them for years and were old school friends. I even got on well with your friends, although this hardly mattered at the time.
Then I panicked. As I have a tendency to do, the morning after the night before, all sorts of negativity washed over me, and I spent a week on the edge of reason. I worried about the distance, (although it wasn't exactly miles...) I worried whether it was just the alcohol talking and even though 12 hours earlier it "hardly mattered", I was scared that your friends had disliked me, and you would side with them. I seem to remember thinking that I couldn't put myself through that, and just cut myself off from you. Ever since then, I regret it. It was a while ago now, but a few weeks back, I thought about "re-adding" you, before realising its probably much too late. You've probably found someone by now, as you were always the easiest guy to get along with. I hope you're happy though. You do deserve it.
Anyway, I'm just writing this to say thank you. Although it didn't work out, and it was practically my fault for not giving any potential relationship we could have had to blossom, you helped me in many more ways than you could possibly imagine. On how to open up to people, (a challenge I still find difficult, but much easier now), on how to be confident and approachable. I will always endeavour to help others, just as you helped me. I could say you were an inspiration. And I will.
...
I could write these letters for a few people that I have come across in life. Best friends, old friends, ex-colleagues and even teachers. So many people have had a positive influence on my life, it is almost impossible to acknowledge them all.
It's important to remember that, above the 1% of evil that is reported in the media, there are 99% remaining of the population, all of which are wonderful in their own special way. The human race really is awesome, isn't it?
Tuesday 30 April 2013
Thursday 25 April 2013
The Nuances of the Mind
I'm at breaking point. Sure, the past couple of weeks have been hectic and mad but also uneventful at the same time. I've hardly had a second to think, to do what I want to do, but I spend the majority of my time with the world to myself. I've been with this schedule for two weeks now, and I am drained of all life. The long work hours sat in an office all alone, followed by copious organisation, administration and responsibility of the cricket season and then the pressures of wanting... needing, to help other people. Throw in the added fury of a non-working word processor, and my brain is just fit to burst with the frustration. And then I feel guilty and not very good at all when I remember... It's been just two weeks. A fortnight.
I see all these people juggling work life and social life and family life with consummate ease, day after day. Week after week. Year after year. The similar sort of thing I've done for the past fortnight, and I have come home from work today and collapsed in a heap on my bed with the lack of energy I remember only too well from years gone by. I refuse to accept that this demon is back, and rather blame the frightfully busy time I've had of late. But then I consider if this is the definition of "busy" after all, and then wonder if I should be doing more to compensate that. Work harder, for the benefits will surely come. No pain, no gain and all of that. But that's very difficult to do when you have no end plan. No goal. No final destination.
It's always been my problem. I have no idea where I want to be. No goal in life whatsoever. This coupled with the drive and determination that I accept I don't have, means a very average life that awaits. The idea of that drives me to insanity sometimes... I've tried to make a difference these past few months, but sometimes, it just feels like one step forwards, two steps back. I'm not getting anywhere. I want to be someone, but I don't have the attributes to do it.
And now I'm left feeling the frustrations of life, and everything that comes with it. Little things that shouldn't drive me mad, are proving to be huge hurdles to jump. Potentially problematic customers at work are being greeted by a more impatient manager than ever before, when they're used to seeing a friendly and patient face on the other side of the glass. At one point today, I was one wrong movement away from snapping and getting into mountainous trouble. Comments that I'd usually brush off as accidental are being given the full worry treatment by my overactive brain and everything that seemed so easy two weeks ago are proving now to be monumental challenges. Simple transactions at work, that I'd complete with my eyes closed just a week or so ago are now done in such a roundabout way by a person who just doesn't know if they're coming or going. More mistakes creep back, and then we're back to where I was a year ago. Petrified of making serious errors, and doing things wrong. And then that dominoes into wondering whether these mistakes will lead to dire consequences. The domino effect. The worst phrase in the English language.
Even the cricket season, once the passage of escape and excitement, is proving to be much more difficult this time round. With more structure and a higher level of official involvement, I've found myself constantly trying to appease the now large senior section. Managing training sessions, struggling to assert myself as a captain with next to no knowledge of coaching or selection, attempting to juggle all the other roles like head administrator and membership and bar work on a Wednesday. Making sure I'm keeping everyone happy and worrying about whether or not I'm giving everyone a fair crack of the whip leading up to the season. Always being the one who turns up an hour early and leaves an hour late, aswell as trying to focus on my own game. I fear it might be too much responsibility. This is after two weeks. Two fucking weeks...
And then there's the comments. The never-ending cycle of comments I see and hear from uneducated fools who think it's ok to use the word "gay" in a negative context. I used it once myself, and I instantly felt shit about it. Why did I say that? Am I just advocating future use? I heard someone at training yesterday shout, "Stop throwing it like gay boys!", and I instantly felt about two-inches tall. It distracted me for the rest of the session and has played on my mind ever since. Even now, looking at Twitter, I see words like "bender" and phrases like, "that song is so gay". I don't even have to search over 10 minutes worth of tweets and I see those two, among others, blaring out like a sore thumb in the middle of everyone else's poorly thought out opinions. I'm starting to become apprehensive to be myself in a society that claims to be more accepting, but isn't really. I'm starting to live in fear of being struck down and feeling like I did a few weeks ago with "that incident" at work. And then I wonder if I'm being too precious about it all, and whether I should just ignore it...
This is all starting to cloud the real me again. And I don't like it. And I don't know what to do.
I see all these people juggling work life and social life and family life with consummate ease, day after day. Week after week. Year after year. The similar sort of thing I've done for the past fortnight, and I have come home from work today and collapsed in a heap on my bed with the lack of energy I remember only too well from years gone by. I refuse to accept that this demon is back, and rather blame the frightfully busy time I've had of late. But then I consider if this is the definition of "busy" after all, and then wonder if I should be doing more to compensate that. Work harder, for the benefits will surely come. No pain, no gain and all of that. But that's very difficult to do when you have no end plan. No goal. No final destination.
It's always been my problem. I have no idea where I want to be. No goal in life whatsoever. This coupled with the drive and determination that I accept I don't have, means a very average life that awaits. The idea of that drives me to insanity sometimes... I've tried to make a difference these past few months, but sometimes, it just feels like one step forwards, two steps back. I'm not getting anywhere. I want to be someone, but I don't have the attributes to do it.
And now I'm left feeling the frustrations of life, and everything that comes with it. Little things that shouldn't drive me mad, are proving to be huge hurdles to jump. Potentially problematic customers at work are being greeted by a more impatient manager than ever before, when they're used to seeing a friendly and patient face on the other side of the glass. At one point today, I was one wrong movement away from snapping and getting into mountainous trouble. Comments that I'd usually brush off as accidental are being given the full worry treatment by my overactive brain and everything that seemed so easy two weeks ago are proving now to be monumental challenges. Simple transactions at work, that I'd complete with my eyes closed just a week or so ago are now done in such a roundabout way by a person who just doesn't know if they're coming or going. More mistakes creep back, and then we're back to where I was a year ago. Petrified of making serious errors, and doing things wrong. And then that dominoes into wondering whether these mistakes will lead to dire consequences. The domino effect. The worst phrase in the English language.
Even the cricket season, once the passage of escape and excitement, is proving to be much more difficult this time round. With more structure and a higher level of official involvement, I've found myself constantly trying to appease the now large senior section. Managing training sessions, struggling to assert myself as a captain with next to no knowledge of coaching or selection, attempting to juggle all the other roles like head administrator and membership and bar work on a Wednesday. Making sure I'm keeping everyone happy and worrying about whether or not I'm giving everyone a fair crack of the whip leading up to the season. Always being the one who turns up an hour early and leaves an hour late, aswell as trying to focus on my own game. I fear it might be too much responsibility. This is after two weeks. Two fucking weeks...
And then there's the comments. The never-ending cycle of comments I see and hear from uneducated fools who think it's ok to use the word "gay" in a negative context. I used it once myself, and I instantly felt shit about it. Why did I say that? Am I just advocating future use? I heard someone at training yesterday shout, "Stop throwing it like gay boys!", and I instantly felt about two-inches tall. It distracted me for the rest of the session and has played on my mind ever since. Even now, looking at Twitter, I see words like "bender" and phrases like, "that song is so gay". I don't even have to search over 10 minutes worth of tweets and I see those two, among others, blaring out like a sore thumb in the middle of everyone else's poorly thought out opinions. I'm starting to become apprehensive to be myself in a society that claims to be more accepting, but isn't really. I'm starting to live in fear of being struck down and feeling like I did a few weeks ago with "that incident" at work. And then I wonder if I'm being too precious about it all, and whether I should just ignore it...
This is all starting to cloud the real me again. And I don't like it. And I don't know what to do.
Monday 22 April 2013
Season 2013
Oh yes. I'm sorry for those of you reading who are not of a sporting disposition, but that time has come again. Summer is officially here, and that means the first game of the cricket season! You could feel the buzz in the air, as players and umpires turned up for what was to be an enjoyable day of the Gentleman's game.
I remember this day from years gone past. The literal excitement of the night before, struggling to sleep as you imagine planting a drive between cover and mid-off for four glorious runs, or diving full-length for a thick edge and feeling the leather of the ball slap against the middle of your palm. I hadn't felt that feeling all week, and for a split second, was concerned that this feeling wasn't going to come, but at 5am on Sunday morning, I felt it. The pang of brutal impulse. The lightning strike. The literal electricity of the cricket season was upon us...
Why 5am? Yeah, I'd been out on the town. How professional of me!
I hardly slept. It might have been because of the Jack Daniels, but I'd like to think it was from another form of intoxication. I might have got to sleep at about 7am, but was awake at 10.30 to get the kit bag ready and head down to The Bury. It was a beautifully sunny day, if a bit chilly, but I was really looking forward to stepping out over the boundary rope and out to the middle. Even the pre-match organisation with the scorebooks, the coin toss and the general hullabaloo did little to put me off. I lost the toss, (Naturally... My luck on the coin toss is becoming biblically terrible!), and we ended up fielding first. This annoyed me slightly, as I was eager to get out and bat, but field we did and we did it well! We got wickets at regular intervals and the bowling performance was backed up by a few good catches. Despite a slip towards the back end of their innings, we restricted them to 150. A good start, but now the real business - and the reason I'm in the team at all - batting.
I have had a good winter. I've changed a lot about my technique, now batting on leg stump and moving across, a la Simon Katich but not that extreme, and more crouched in position. My trigger is much more smoother and in the winter nets and the few outdoor sessions we've had, that seemed to work well. Yesterday, it didn't. I don't know why, maybe I had let the buzz get to me too much, because I was so impatient. First ball up, I received a full-toss that I middled straight to the extra cover fielder, and from then on, I went after everything. First game of the season, on a pitch doing a little bit against the new ball, it was only a matter of time before I got myself out. Especially after losing an early wicket, I really should have knuckled down. But I didn't. Facing their opening bowler, I played down the completely wrong line, ("down Bakerloo, when it was on the Northern Line"), and got cleaned up for a measly 4 next to my name. A poor and undisciplined start then. Team wise, a lot of people had the same problems and made the same mistakes, apart from debutant Bharat who scored a very good 70 to get us close. Ultimately, we fell 7 runs short. It was a poor batting effort, but there were positives to take in our general performance. And it wasn't our strongest team by any means.
It was still fantastic to be back out there though. Amongst the banter of the slip cordon, and just sitting chatting whilst watching your team-mates (try) and build an innings is just fantastic. It makes me such a happier person, so much so, that I woke up for work this Monday morning at 7:45am with a literal smile on my face. Oh, the joys of Summer.
In other news, a few of you may have noticed I have deleted a blog from the past couple of weeks. I've had a slight change of heart, (or to use the right jargon, a U-Turn), on the subject of politics. I won't blog why, but simply ask if you want to know!
Otherwise, it's all fine and dandy! It's brilliant what a bit of activity can to do to a mind-set and a mood...
I remember this day from years gone past. The literal excitement of the night before, struggling to sleep as you imagine planting a drive between cover and mid-off for four glorious runs, or diving full-length for a thick edge and feeling the leather of the ball slap against the middle of your palm. I hadn't felt that feeling all week, and for a split second, was concerned that this feeling wasn't going to come, but at 5am on Sunday morning, I felt it. The pang of brutal impulse. The lightning strike. The literal electricity of the cricket season was upon us...
Why 5am? Yeah, I'd been out on the town. How professional of me!
I hardly slept. It might have been because of the Jack Daniels, but I'd like to think it was from another form of intoxication. I might have got to sleep at about 7am, but was awake at 10.30 to get the kit bag ready and head down to The Bury. It was a beautifully sunny day, if a bit chilly, but I was really looking forward to stepping out over the boundary rope and out to the middle. Even the pre-match organisation with the scorebooks, the coin toss and the general hullabaloo did little to put me off. I lost the toss, (Naturally... My luck on the coin toss is becoming biblically terrible!), and we ended up fielding first. This annoyed me slightly, as I was eager to get out and bat, but field we did and we did it well! We got wickets at regular intervals and the bowling performance was backed up by a few good catches. Despite a slip towards the back end of their innings, we restricted them to 150. A good start, but now the real business - and the reason I'm in the team at all - batting.
I have had a good winter. I've changed a lot about my technique, now batting on leg stump and moving across, a la Simon Katich but not that extreme, and more crouched in position. My trigger is much more smoother and in the winter nets and the few outdoor sessions we've had, that seemed to work well. Yesterday, it didn't. I don't know why, maybe I had let the buzz get to me too much, because I was so impatient. First ball up, I received a full-toss that I middled straight to the extra cover fielder, and from then on, I went after everything. First game of the season, on a pitch doing a little bit against the new ball, it was only a matter of time before I got myself out. Especially after losing an early wicket, I really should have knuckled down. But I didn't. Facing their opening bowler, I played down the completely wrong line, ("down Bakerloo, when it was on the Northern Line"), and got cleaned up for a measly 4 next to my name. A poor and undisciplined start then. Team wise, a lot of people had the same problems and made the same mistakes, apart from debutant Bharat who scored a very good 70 to get us close. Ultimately, we fell 7 runs short. It was a poor batting effort, but there were positives to take in our general performance. And it wasn't our strongest team by any means.
It was still fantastic to be back out there though. Amongst the banter of the slip cordon, and just sitting chatting whilst watching your team-mates (try) and build an innings is just fantastic. It makes me such a happier person, so much so, that I woke up for work this Monday morning at 7:45am with a literal smile on my face. Oh, the joys of Summer.
In other news, a few of you may have noticed I have deleted a blog from the past couple of weeks. I've had a slight change of heart, (or to use the right jargon, a U-Turn), on the subject of politics. I won't blog why, but simply ask if you want to know!
Otherwise, it's all fine and dandy! It's brilliant what a bit of activity can to do to a mind-set and a mood...
Saturday 13 April 2013
A Little Less Conversation
Elvis once had a hit with, "A Little Less Conversation". It was a huge hit, even reincarnated into a modern dance track and used in Nike adverts (I think), but the point of the song is lost on some people.
"A little less conversation, a little more action please". It might be in the context of love, where two people who like each other are talking and not doing anything about it, but that sentence can also be used in context with anything. I've said it so many times before, and I'm going to say it again. There are too many people in this world who complain copiously and then do nothing about it. Yes, I mentioned this in yesterday's blog post, but I've just seen yet another example. Someone has been complaining on Twitter for the last 20 minutes about some issue or another, but then openly says, "But I can't do anything about it".
Nonsense. A human being can do anything they want to, if they try. And what is the point in complaining about it if you're going to sit back and do nothing about it? Sure, you might not be able to do a lot, but it's better than doing nothing. It's better than sitting back and waiting for someone else to do it for you. Surely? Surely that makes sense? Surely you've got to try?
Someone asked me, "What have you done then?". It was a question that quite frankly, pissed me off. I shall now list some of the things I have done:
1) I was angry when the national FA fined me for my comments against the (racist) ex-Chief Executive at the County FA. I sent a letter to the national and county FA's, made a statement by resigning my position and went to both local and national media to highlight the issues. I received a good response and helped, albeit on a small scale, against the sensitive issue of racism in football. I was hounded by people close to the FA and people attempted to bully me into submission, but I didn't. I stood up for myself. I then backed that up with a letter to David Bernstein, the chairman, outlining all that is wrong with the modern game, and I received a reply. I did something about it.
2) No one was happy with the management structure at our local cricket club. When an EGM was announced, I was the person who stood up in front of a crowded room and outlined the thoughts of the majority of our members by openly criticising the management and proposing a complete overhaul. I am now on the Board of Directors, and with the help of others, starting to rebuild the club (that was on the floor) to a respectable community club with aspirations of higher standing. I instigated that change. I did something about it.
3) I am increasingly despondent at the inequality this country provides whilst masking that fact with false pretence. Homophobia is prevalent in society, as I have found out for myself in the past few weeks both online and in person. I was called a "second rate citizen" by a nasty piece of work on Twitter, amongst other things, and was personally attacked at work by a customer who refused to be served by "someone like me" as "I don't know if you're going to destroy my bank account, as you have made the wrong choices in life yourself". This is wrong. Plain wrong and disgusting. Sure, 98% of society is fine, but the remaining 2% are not. I will stand up for myself every time, and I will not bow down to such abhorrent behaviour. There is no way I can sit back and hear stories of people suffering because they are scared of coming out, due to these horror stories. So I wrote my own story, and donated it to a website called 'RUComingOut' (www.rucomingout.com), to help others in a similar situation. Right now, I am in conversation with a lot of people who need that help, and I will always be there. I am doing my bit to help the community I am a part of. I did, and still am doing something about it.
...
This has turned into a slightly angry post, and yes, I am a little angry. I am fed up to the back teeth of people complaining and moaning about this, that or the other and then just doing nothing about it. What are you expecting? Someone else to do the job for you? For it just to stop and go away? It doesn't. YOU have to get up off your arse and DO something. "Do" is a verb. No one got anywhere by sitting on their backside and doing naff all. Some people would do well to remember that.
I had to let that out. Now I'll let you carry on with watching Match of the Day, or downing vodka shots, or whatever you were doing.
"A little less conversation, a little more action please". It might be in the context of love, where two people who like each other are talking and not doing anything about it, but that sentence can also be used in context with anything. I've said it so many times before, and I'm going to say it again. There are too many people in this world who complain copiously and then do nothing about it. Yes, I mentioned this in yesterday's blog post, but I've just seen yet another example. Someone has been complaining on Twitter for the last 20 minutes about some issue or another, but then openly says, "But I can't do anything about it".
Nonsense. A human being can do anything they want to, if they try. And what is the point in complaining about it if you're going to sit back and do nothing about it? Sure, you might not be able to do a lot, but it's better than doing nothing. It's better than sitting back and waiting for someone else to do it for you. Surely? Surely that makes sense? Surely you've got to try?
Someone asked me, "What have you done then?". It was a question that quite frankly, pissed me off. I shall now list some of the things I have done:
1) I was angry when the national FA fined me for my comments against the (racist) ex-Chief Executive at the County FA. I sent a letter to the national and county FA's, made a statement by resigning my position and went to both local and national media to highlight the issues. I received a good response and helped, albeit on a small scale, against the sensitive issue of racism in football. I was hounded by people close to the FA and people attempted to bully me into submission, but I didn't. I stood up for myself. I then backed that up with a letter to David Bernstein, the chairman, outlining all that is wrong with the modern game, and I received a reply. I did something about it.
2) No one was happy with the management structure at our local cricket club. When an EGM was announced, I was the person who stood up in front of a crowded room and outlined the thoughts of the majority of our members by openly criticising the management and proposing a complete overhaul. I am now on the Board of Directors, and with the help of others, starting to rebuild the club (that was on the floor) to a respectable community club with aspirations of higher standing. I instigated that change. I did something about it.
3) I am increasingly despondent at the inequality this country provides whilst masking that fact with false pretence. Homophobia is prevalent in society, as I have found out for myself in the past few weeks both online and in person. I was called a "second rate citizen" by a nasty piece of work on Twitter, amongst other things, and was personally attacked at work by a customer who refused to be served by "someone like me" as "I don't know if you're going to destroy my bank account, as you have made the wrong choices in life yourself". This is wrong. Plain wrong and disgusting. Sure, 98% of society is fine, but the remaining 2% are not. I will stand up for myself every time, and I will not bow down to such abhorrent behaviour. There is no way I can sit back and hear stories of people suffering because they are scared of coming out, due to these horror stories. So I wrote my own story, and donated it to a website called 'RUComingOut' (www.rucomingout.com), to help others in a similar situation. Right now, I am in conversation with a lot of people who need that help, and I will always be there. I am doing my bit to help the community I am a part of. I did, and still am doing something about it.
...
This has turned into a slightly angry post, and yes, I am a little angry. I am fed up to the back teeth of people complaining and moaning about this, that or the other and then just doing nothing about it. What are you expecting? Someone else to do the job for you? For it just to stop and go away? It doesn't. YOU have to get up off your arse and DO something. "Do" is a verb. No one got anywhere by sitting on their backside and doing naff all. Some people would do well to remember that.
I had to let that out. Now I'll let you carry on with watching Match of the Day, or downing vodka shots, or whatever you were doing.
Friday 5 April 2013
The Soho Experience
I was really quite nervous about last night. In the last few years, the confidence that once was when meeting new people has been replaced by an irrational discomposure and the idea of attending a night doing just that, left half of me feeling a little uncomfortable. Throughout a torturing slow day at work, I could do nothing but sit and wonder what the night ahead might hold. On the other hand, I felt a high-strung excitement. An urge to attack it and really do my best to integrate with what has become one of the greatest communities to be involved in.
For that is what I think it is. The RUComingOut site, (that I have mentioned a fair bit - almost as if I can't shut up about it), is an extraordinary project. It might be difficult for those of you unlucky enough to be straight to understand, but the coming out process is one of the toughest that life will throw at us. The fear, the apprehension and the inner distress. Being in the same room as hundreds of people who have felt the same - who understand its feelings - and enjoy a great night with them, was a privilege I can barely put into words.
*Buckets for vomiting are available from all good retailers*
And now I pause, for an absurd length of time, as I don't know how to continue. Where do I start?
Maybe the couple I met at the start of the night, who are part of an LGBT group called 'Outdoor Lads', who have been through all sorts of hardship and formed this outdoor pursuits group that has brought a lot of people, a lot of comfort. The level-headed nature of their conversation was astounding, so much so, that it must have looked like I wasn't bothered as I simply nodded and agreed with what they said. This was at the beginning of the night, with nerves off the scale, but that conversation calmed me down somewhat. It was confirmation to me, that I wasn't going to be inundated with camp madness, but instead could hold simple conversations with people similar to me. A room full to the brim with people who knew how "that" had felt...
Maybe it was the fact that CJ de Mooi, from 'Eggheads' fame, was casually walking around talking to people. Or singer Beverley Knight, sitting in the corner, chatting away to normal folk like us, was in the same room as silly old me. Just a nervous chap from Bedford, who had come down to Soho, simply out of intrigue. I was in the same room as celebrities who had been through the same experience I had, or in Beverley's case, are extremely supportive individuals. All of these people knew what it felt like, and the comfort that feeling brought was exceptional.
Or maybe it was 86-year old Billy Thornycroft, still attending gay pride parades and turning up at these crazy events, just like he was as a young man in the 1940s. Hearing his stories was an absolute inspiration. I was transfixed as he talked about how he thought it was actually easier in the 1940s, without the pressure of expectation and the modern lifestyle of celebrity magazines and obsession with beauty. Just before he put his earplugs back in to go back out into the furore!
But no. Despite these amazing moments, the whole idea of the night was encapsulated in one nervous looking guy standing in the corner of the room. At the beginning of the evening, as the place was slowly filling up, I noticed a young man standing by the door, looking at his phone, all on his own. I won't name him, (he might well be reading this as he later said he'd read a few of these silly little blogs!) Maybe I shouldn't speak about this, but he reminded me very much of me. Nervous and apprehensive. I know that I'd have been exactly the same had I not had the company of Billie, who must have been wondering what she'd let herself into, probably being the only straight person in the place! I went over to him and introduced myself, and we got chatting and seemed to get on very well. We compared our own stories and experiences and found they were similar. He had travelled from West Wales for a couple of days, (a hell of a commitment if I may say so myself!), so naturally, the general chitter-chatter of The Barley Mow on a Saturday night in Bedford town got a bit lost I think. But generally, we got on like a house on fire. He was an absolutely genuine gentleman, and I'm really very glad I met him last night.
After a few trips to the bar, a general battering of the wallets, a strangled performance from the campest entertainment act I'd ever seen, plus the strongest (and only) Mojito I've ever had, we joined a couple of guys who had taken the brave step of being the first on to the dance floor. Frankly, I'm surprised this didn't happen earlier, as the now huge crowd of people jostled in and out of one another as they walked around the place, chatting and meeting like-minded others. The multi-coloured squares of the dance floor in the middle looked especially bright, with a planetary gaggle of people circling around like vultures, looking wistfully towards it, hoping a large group of people would make the first move and get the party started. Amazingly enough, Billie (who was the confident one of the small party of three we had created), dragged us there as we were thanked a lot by the two alienated guys pulling off camp moves on the rainbow squares. These two guys happened to work for the BBC, one of which for The One Show and the other in the talent department. I was tempted to bring out the break dancing, but thought better of it...
From then on, it was pretty much like an overstated yet unbelievable night out. Everyone had loosened up a bit, the dance floor got busier and busier and people just enjoyed themselves. It really is amazing what a relaxed atmosphere can do to a party, especially in the presence of people you had never met before the night. You can just be yourself, and after a few normal drinks, (of course I had reverted to the tried and trusted JD's instead of fancy cocktails!), we danced the night away. I was not wary of the time, as I probably should have been given our location, and at the time I just didn't care. This was amazing. Simple as that. It almost begs the question of why I was so nervous. But then again, alcohol in moderation has the ability to create a character beyond your normal self. My jumpy, hesitant being replaced by someone else in a room full of other similar people, in bloody Soho. It can't get better than that.
I probably shouldn't have drunk as much as I should, especially in a place I had never been before, but in many ways, last night was the greatest night of my life. It might not have held many crazy, unbelievable or manic stories like others have, and it might well be difficult for others to "get", but to be yourself in an environment like that, all in the name of a fantastic initiative, is one of the greatest honours of my life. I'm so proud to be involved in such a project, and I cannot explain how pleased I am to be helping others who are currently going through this incredible yet difficult journey themselves because of the site. You know who you are, and I will always be here if you want to chat. And that goes for absolutely anyone.
I'd like to leave the link to Billy's story. An unbelievable 86-year old gentleman who wrote his story for the site. It's an incredible read for anyone : http://www.rucomingout.com/billyt.html
P.S. I have just found out that ACTUAL Gandalf turned up. Like... THE Sir Ian McKellen. But we had already gone! Noooo!
For that is what I think it is. The RUComingOut site, (that I have mentioned a fair bit - almost as if I can't shut up about it), is an extraordinary project. It might be difficult for those of you unlucky enough to be straight to understand, but the coming out process is one of the toughest that life will throw at us. The fear, the apprehension and the inner distress. Being in the same room as hundreds of people who have felt the same - who understand its feelings - and enjoy a great night with them, was a privilege I can barely put into words.
*Buckets for vomiting are available from all good retailers*
And now I pause, for an absurd length of time, as I don't know how to continue. Where do I start?
Maybe the couple I met at the start of the night, who are part of an LGBT group called 'Outdoor Lads', who have been through all sorts of hardship and formed this outdoor pursuits group that has brought a lot of people, a lot of comfort. The level-headed nature of their conversation was astounding, so much so, that it must have looked like I wasn't bothered as I simply nodded and agreed with what they said. This was at the beginning of the night, with nerves off the scale, but that conversation calmed me down somewhat. It was confirmation to me, that I wasn't going to be inundated with camp madness, but instead could hold simple conversations with people similar to me. A room full to the brim with people who knew how "that" had felt...
Maybe it was the fact that CJ de Mooi, from 'Eggheads' fame, was casually walking around talking to people. Or singer Beverley Knight, sitting in the corner, chatting away to normal folk like us, was in the same room as silly old me. Just a nervous chap from Bedford, who had come down to Soho, simply out of intrigue. I was in the same room as celebrities who had been through the same experience I had, or in Beverley's case, are extremely supportive individuals. All of these people knew what it felt like, and the comfort that feeling brought was exceptional.
Or maybe it was 86-year old Billy Thornycroft, still attending gay pride parades and turning up at these crazy events, just like he was as a young man in the 1940s. Hearing his stories was an absolute inspiration. I was transfixed as he talked about how he thought it was actually easier in the 1940s, without the pressure of expectation and the modern lifestyle of celebrity magazines and obsession with beauty. Just before he put his earplugs back in to go back out into the furore!
But no. Despite these amazing moments, the whole idea of the night was encapsulated in one nervous looking guy standing in the corner of the room. At the beginning of the evening, as the place was slowly filling up, I noticed a young man standing by the door, looking at his phone, all on his own. I won't name him, (he might well be reading this as he later said he'd read a few of these silly little blogs!) Maybe I shouldn't speak about this, but he reminded me very much of me. Nervous and apprehensive. I know that I'd have been exactly the same had I not had the company of Billie, who must have been wondering what she'd let herself into, probably being the only straight person in the place! I went over to him and introduced myself, and we got chatting and seemed to get on very well. We compared our own stories and experiences and found they were similar. He had travelled from West Wales for a couple of days, (a hell of a commitment if I may say so myself!), so naturally, the general chitter-chatter of The Barley Mow on a Saturday night in Bedford town got a bit lost I think. But generally, we got on like a house on fire. He was an absolutely genuine gentleman, and I'm really very glad I met him last night.
After a few trips to the bar, a general battering of the wallets, a strangled performance from the campest entertainment act I'd ever seen, plus the strongest (and only) Mojito I've ever had, we joined a couple of guys who had taken the brave step of being the first on to the dance floor. Frankly, I'm surprised this didn't happen earlier, as the now huge crowd of people jostled in and out of one another as they walked around the place, chatting and meeting like-minded others. The multi-coloured squares of the dance floor in the middle looked especially bright, with a planetary gaggle of people circling around like vultures, looking wistfully towards it, hoping a large group of people would make the first move and get the party started. Amazingly enough, Billie (who was the confident one of the small party of three we had created), dragged us there as we were thanked a lot by the two alienated guys pulling off camp moves on the rainbow squares. These two guys happened to work for the BBC, one of which for The One Show and the other in the talent department. I was tempted to bring out the break dancing, but thought better of it...
From then on, it was pretty much like an overstated yet unbelievable night out. Everyone had loosened up a bit, the dance floor got busier and busier and people just enjoyed themselves. It really is amazing what a relaxed atmosphere can do to a party, especially in the presence of people you had never met before the night. You can just be yourself, and after a few normal drinks, (of course I had reverted to the tried and trusted JD's instead of fancy cocktails!), we danced the night away. I was not wary of the time, as I probably should have been given our location, and at the time I just didn't care. This was amazing. Simple as that. It almost begs the question of why I was so nervous. But then again, alcohol in moderation has the ability to create a character beyond your normal self. My jumpy, hesitant being replaced by someone else in a room full of other similar people, in bloody Soho. It can't get better than that.
I probably shouldn't have drunk as much as I should, especially in a place I had never been before, but in many ways, last night was the greatest night of my life. It might not have held many crazy, unbelievable or manic stories like others have, and it might well be difficult for others to "get", but to be yourself in an environment like that, all in the name of a fantastic initiative, is one of the greatest honours of my life. I'm so proud to be involved in such a project, and I cannot explain how pleased I am to be helping others who are currently going through this incredible yet difficult journey themselves because of the site. You know who you are, and I will always be here if you want to chat. And that goes for absolutely anyone.
I'd like to leave the link to Billy's story. An unbelievable 86-year old gentleman who wrote his story for the site. It's an incredible read for anyone : http://www.rucomingout.com/billyt.html
P.S. I have just found out that ACTUAL Gandalf turned up. Like... THE Sir Ian McKellen. But we had already gone! Noooo!
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