An easy life?

I was talking to Dad around this time last year and he remarked upon what an easy life he had had; in terms of finding a good job for life, marrying and settling down and raising a family (albeit a rather large one) in a house provided for by the AERE. And the fact that, after mum died in 2009, how he continued to have a good life, what with the frequent family visits, some wonderful neighbours who couldn't have been more attentive to him and even getting some quality holidays in with the help of Marcia and myself (and his debit card!). In retrospect it feels like he knew the end was near and was taking stock, a bit like mum did before she died (see my previous blog entry). And even in death he had it easy - losing consciousness through a catastrophic stroke, he never felt a thing.

The reason I was dwelling on this was that I was thinking about my own life, what had been and where it was going (all good mid-life crisis stuff! Sigh). Although Dad had the struggle of bringing up six wilfully disparate children on a budget, he at least did have the good old heterosexual model template laid out for him. For me, while I came to terms with my sexuality early in life - and to be honest it was never an issue for me - there were still the external problems that I would have to tackle. I knew that at some point I would have to leave the safe confines of my bedroom (reluctantly!) and venture out into the real world if I was to live any kind of proper life. That meant coming out to my parents (scary), going out to gay places (scarier) - all obstacles that I knew I had to face but was incredibly daunting to my introverted self.

(I should note here that I was listening to Bronski Beat's Smalltown Boy when I was 16 and it was the lines "the answers you seek will never be found at home/the love that you need will never be found at home" that struck a depressingly terrifying chord with me. It took me another five years before I actually did anything about it.)

Even though it took me a while, confronting these challenges were ultimately worth it. Coming out to mother was difficult as her views on homosexuality at the time were influenced by the twin evils of The Sun and The Daily Mail. But through me being out she came to realise these views were wrong and became the most supportive and pro-gay mother going, even helping me through my first break-up trauma. (Eternally grateful to you for that, Mum). Venturing out into the gay scene (with the collective help of the Oxford Young Friend organisation) was a revelation and I felt like I had stepped through the looking glass into a new world.

From there my life exploded into new territory; out of control, exhilarating, heartbreaking... it was sheer madness for about a year and I felt like I was losing control of my identity, changing into some wild, wilful creature. My parents despaired - their little boy for so long was suddenly out on drunken binges, staying out all night without calling and indulging in god-knows-what. It was like cramming all the typical teenage stuff into one bonkers year.

But I tired of the scene very quickly and that was when Barry came along and I settled into my first long term relationship. Mum and Dad breathed a sigh of relief.

To return to the point of this entry however, I guess that Dad's phrase 'an easy life' is relative; while I had to face challenges that he never even had to entertain, I feel lucky that being gay has never been an issue for me. (Heck, I have more problems with the other things in life, like my general lack of direction and chronic disorganisation of my time!). Sure, I've had my share of homophobic abuse hurled at me by maladjusted trogs and probably will again, but it has never stopped me from declaring my true colours and through that I find that I am almost universally accepted for who I am.

Through being honest to myself, I have not adhered to the life model that Dad could easily slip into; but that itself has opened up wide scope for experiences and opportunities for living a different kind of life - challenging, exciting, scary stuff but there to be embraced.

All part of life's rich tupperware, as Julian Clary once said.

The Girl Who Liked

Just completed this poem. Enjoy.

THE GIRL WHO LIKED

Polly’s Pater perspired profusely,

And Mother her hands did wring,

Oh! Her parents despaired as their daughter declared

Her love for all natural things.

“Not for me, rampant industry!”

Polly trilled as she gazed distant hills.

“Not chimneys high, spilling forth to the sky

Foul outcome from the pounding of mills”.

“Those grunting heads, shining metallic spit

Shafts and cams in lifeless repetition,

Grinding motions relentless, boring into the bit”,

She expressed, striding into her mission.

“Putrid spills and stains! Ah, they do repel

When aggressively spewed from containers

By superior arrogant dominating vessels!”

Sang the wild, impassioned young campaigner.

“But”, she sighed “to run wild in meadows,

And lavish in lush valleys moist

With dew and trickling streams anew

With furtile life!” She voiced.

“So many cracks, crevices to explore

Slippy slopes, buried caverns and caves.

Such excitement aroused by prescient promise!

It is these expeditions I crave”.

“Wild-topped hillocks, where grasses flow pink and wild,

Naked nature, hot-flushed with sensation!

Sacrificing myself to her florid desire!”

Words sparked cold parental consternation.

So, with chains and bars, tight clamps and current

They sought to curtail her abandon

And drive her nature into recesses dark

To conform their young child to convention.

But...

It was far too late

Path led to the gate

Where her form atomised 

Into bright butterflies

And guardians fears

Melted into tears

As offspring will be

Never as one can see.

© 2012  Lance Eggleton

Nine Go Mad at the V&A

Last Monday, eight colleagues from the IPO Designs registry and myself were unshackled from our desks and let out to roam - free and unchaperoned! - in the splendour of the V&A. This was on the proviso that we spend our time at the exhibition entitled 'British Design 1948 - 2012; Innovation in the Modern Age'. (Relevant to our job, see?). So at 8 o'clock we all bundled into the minibus, giggling and fighting over who gets to go on the back seat. Unfortunately, there were no rear windows so we couldn't wave our arses or make obscene gestures to the cars behind. No fun!

I'd been to the exhibition a few weeks back when I was staying over at Marcia and Paul's; they needed the car to go to Download in Donington and I used the opportunity to do all manner of cultural stuff in the capital. I was impressed with the exhibition and, because I wouldn't stop raving about it on return to the office, it was agreed on a works visit to check it out.

Given the limited space for such a huge topic, the exhibition could only really show the most iconic examples of design innovation since the Austerity Olympics in 1948. They ranged from the outlandish (fashion designs by Alexander McQueen) to the practical (the Worboys Committee on traffic road signs) and all that was in-between; architecture, furniture design, interior decorating, vehicles (they had an original mini there!!), album covers, film, fashion, photography, computers and computer games, pop videos, aviation... the breadth of exhibits was impressive. I can't really say there was one area that I was more impressed with over another - it was all good.

And yet the exhibition could only really provide an broadly superficial view of the topic, which left some of our group dissatisfied with it. But then it's eclecticism had to appeal to the public at large, which I guess is the whole point; to engage interest and, for those so inclined, to seek further information. For me, it struck a chord of how important design is to society for a whole slew of reasons - to boost the economy, to establish a national identity, etc - and how it is criminally neglected by the IPO in favour of such other forms of IP as patents and trade marks. All important too, of course (well, I'm not so sure about trade marks...) but design is equally if not more essential - after all, pretty much everything around us, from buildings to furniture to road layouts to the patterns on wallpaper, have been designed.

Still, that's for me to gripe on. Designs have always been a poor relative at the IPO and I don't think that is going to change anytime soon. If I had my way though...

Overall the day out of the office was very rewarding. After the exhibition we took lunch at the somewhat overcrowded (and overpriced!) cafe at the V&A and then spent the rest of the afternoon at the adjacent Natural History Museum where my enthusiastic colleague Rhys whisked me from department to department, not wanting to miss this opportunity to see everything the museum had! Ah, youth.

And then back to Newport. Bev and I took the opportunity to discuss all matters literary on the journey home, which has given me the impetus to start writing again. Bless you, fine lady.

Trying to see if I can swing a week going round art galleries next...