Not going quietly into the Twilight

Jeepster Magazine November 2019

Not going quietly into the Twilight’

By Alice Burton

Gerri Ashton and Hester Grant aka Harmonium have been part of the music industry for almost thirty five years. They had their first hit with the legendary ‘Complex’ in 1985, enjoying three number one singles, issuing eleven acclaimed albums and enjoying numerous sell out tours. Their ethereal electronica has proved influential over three decades and remains fresh and astounding .

In an era dominated by male electro duos such as Soft Cell and Pet Shop Boys, Harmonium were unusual in being female (although they have nothing but praise for their male peers). Ashton became known both for her ironically smooth vocals that were influenced by the likes of Dusty Springfield and French 60’s singers like Francoise Hardy and her playful androgyny. Grant’s synthesiser tracks were every bit as innovative as her male peers. They became known for songs exploring the loneliness of urban life, the transitory nature of modern love and feminism. Their 1989 single ‘Parlour games’ was recently voted one of the top five songs of the last thirty years here at Jeepster magazine

Harmonium have recently released their twelfth studio ‘Twilight stories’ (which garnered five stars here) which discussed issues around aging (Ashton had a hip replacement eighteen points ago just before the album was completed) and social media. Ashton is known for her wry and occasionally sharp pronouncements on twitter whereas Grant is legendary for her deliberately low key public profile. But in honour of the album’s release Ashton and Grant are meeting me today at their North London studio

In person Ashton is more shy than her extrovert stage persona suggests but still charming and welcoming. Wearing a Paul Smith trouser suit she still retains her Audrey Hebpurnesque looks at 60. Grant, wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and baseball cap, is affable and keen to discuss the thinking behind the duo’s music.

Grant was studying music and Ashton French when they met in London in 1981. They would form Harmonium in 1983, signing to the independent Parlet label the following year, who they remain with to this day. Ashton’s love of literature is evident in their song lyrics. Who else would get a hit song about Hildegarde of Bingen and write songs about Christine de Pizan and Colette? Harmonium also have referenced poets Adrienne Rich and Audre Lorde.

Grant is a classically trained pianist who played jazz clubs as a teenager to pay her way through college. There is a strong influence of Jazz to the pair’s music, bringing textures that were absent in their peers. Grant met Ashton when she was asked to accompany her performing some Julie London songs. In honour of how they met they released a cover of ‘Cry me a river’ in 1993.

Ashton and Grant are noted for their androgynous imagery and not conforming to the standard image of femininity. ‘We were hardly alone in that in the early 1980s, if anything it was almost de rigeur’ says Ashton ‘You saw women like Annie Lennox, Siouxsie Sioux and our dear friend Alison Moyet on Top of the Pops and just feel like you could go for it. In some ways it feels like we have gone backward’ she sighs.

The pair are famously private about their personal lives. Ashton has never denied her sexuality and discussed it in the press on a couple of occasions and they have long been icons for the LGBT (particularly lesbian) community. However was only in 2012 that the pair confirmed they have been a couple since 1983. Ashton discussed aspects of their life together in her acclaimed 2014 autobiography ‘Born under a different star’ (a Sunday Times best seller which was acclaimed for its wit and insight into the music industry). The song ‘Golden flame’ on Harmonium’s 2002 ‘Carnival’ album is widely interpreted as being about their relationship. They genuinely seem happy together and they exchange several affectionate looks during our interview

I want to ask them about what it is like to work with your life partner but don’t feel entirely comfortable raising the question. When I do and they both seem more than happy to discuss. ‘Well if anything for me it makes things easier as you understand the other person and know how to read their mood and what they want to achieve ’ says Grant ‘You have an ability to be in synch with them’

‘Mind you it means I can’t get away from her!’ laughs Ashton

While the pair may have a happy relationship, they record the complexities of the love lives of their friends and peers in their music. Songs such as ‘Morning in Paris’ tell wry tales of infidelity and broken relationships. Grants synthesiser parts meld with Ashton’s vocals to bring a considerable amount of emotion and sweetness to these story songs.

But Harmonium have also explored issues such as domestic violence in the song ‘Drifting cloud’ and sexual harassment in ‘Coffee for one’. They have discretely played benefits for and donated to various women’s and LGBT rights charities over the years.

As previously mentioned one of the themes of ‘Twilight stories’ is social media and particularly the trolling that prominent women have to deal with. One song in particular ‘Mute button’ deals with how Ashton had to deal with a number of trolls on twitter after her #metoo revelations. ‘Well it was hardly a pleasant period ‘ she notes ‘But I knew that there were other women who were getting worse abuse. The point of the song is that trolls want attention and to think they get to you. Better to not give them that power. You have to put things in perspective’.

In 2016, with the rise of the #metoo movement, Ashton revealed she had been groped by a prominent figure in the music industry and subjected to sexual harassment by another prominent figure. It had not been the first occasion she has made comments about the treatment of women in the music industry (she covered the topic extensively in her autobiography) but it was the first time she revealed the extent of what she had been subjected to.

’Well, I didn’t want to be seen as jumping on a bandwagon but felt it was important for the sake of young women coming up in the industry ‘ Ashton says. ‘It hopefully will make a difference, but there are no easy answers’.

’We have managed to get to a point where we are able to speak about these issues and not impact on how we get treated’ adds Grant ‘I mean they can’t exactly undo our record sales and earned royalities at this point!’

So do the duo think it is easier for women in the music industry today?

‘Well we are seeing more women making inroads to management and the more senior roles in the industry’ Grant says. She also makes the point women need to be in roles such as producers and engineers and involved with all aspects of the industry ‘I mean, we were lucky to have a lot of very creative female friends we could work with, it was a completely conscious decision.’

The pair are well known for working with other female creatives. They have worked with stylist Cara Rey for fifteen years (she created their looks for their last five albums and helped design their recent live shows) and acclaimed director Anna Greene has been responsible for several of their iconic videos (Grant met Greene through a mutual friend).

I ask the pair ‘So what is it like to be iconic female artists and role models?’

’Hard to say! We keep thinking about our influences. You know we were as influenced by people like Carole King, Joni Mitchell and Judee Sill as we were by acts like Kraftwerk and the Human League. We also want to acknowledge that people like Labelle, Patrice Rushen and Alice Coltrane also informed our music’ says Grant. ‘There should be as many different ways of being a woman artist as a male artist’

Grant has a successful and respected career as a producer, notably helping the band Viola with their last album. Ashton has released two well received albums of her own compositions which pay tribute to the torch songs she loves. However they always feel happiest when working together ‘It is just a very natural and intuitive relationship and we realise that we bring out the best in each other’ says Ashton.

The other theme of ‘Twilight songs’ is ageing. Ashton is 60 and Grant 61. Ashton makes a joke about her recent hip replacement. However both show no signs of slowing down ‘Well I suppose we are at an age where others are thinking of retirement!’ Grant jokes ‘I suppose we will keep going as long as we feel we have something to offer and aren’t getting completely out of touch which is a risk with two old fogies like us!’.

It looks like it is not the twilight of Harmonium’s career quite yet.

Lock down

They were locked down yet again. Third time this week. Not that they got much time out of the cell anyway.

Jim guessed that Alex had been put in the same cell as him because they were around the same age. They did not reckon on how much Alex would wind him up, how much he wanted to yell at him.

Jim had to regrets about punching that man’s lights out, even if it meant landing up here. It was one thing he could do for Gina as a father, goodness knows he had not much good for much else in the last few years. Nobody was going to knock his girl about while he was around. He could at least take pride that whatever was going on with him had never lead him to hurt Miranda, Sandra and Gina. He may have been moody and had to distance himself from them to protect them but he had not hurt them. They had all been there when he was sentenced and had visited him a couple of times. Sandra wanted him to move in with him and Colin and the kids when he got out. He appreciated the offer but no way was he going to burden her with his issues.

After all what sort of a life did he have outside anyway? At least he knew where he would be for the next few month , knew what was expected of him. He also didn’t mind the privations or even the bad food – he was used it (and at least he knew he would get a meal). And much as he hated being locked in a cell it gave him a bit of time to think. He had never had that- he had always been having to react to situations. He was certainly better equipped than Alex for prison life. Jim would like to see him deal with some of the conditions he had to deal with in the army. He could laugh at the look of disgust on Alex’s face most meal times.

He had tried to be a good man. He went into the army at age seventeen because he genuinely wanted to do something positive rather than sit around on his arse on the dole. He enjoyed the discipline and structure. Prison was very like those early days in the Army in some ways. He married Miranda after he got back from Iraq in 1992. Sandra arrived a year later and Gina three years later. Jim knew he got lucky with Miranda. Miranda had settled into life as an army wife easily enough, never minded the moving around or long absences. Jim was always grateful for that. It was life after he had left the army that proved more difficult.

He got wound up every morning by Alex going through his routine. What a vain man with his moisturizers and hair products (when he could get them). Alex would come out with some line about keeping up standards. Jim could laugh at the ridiculousness. He wanted to scoff every time he saw Alex brushing his (greying) blonde locks. This was not the type of place where you wanted to appear soft. But soft was exactly what Alex was.

Not that Jim necessarily disapproved of taking care of your appearance. He had done so for years – neat and ordered appearance had been vital. He had tried to keep up appearances (in more ways than one) since leaving the army but now sported a beard and clumsy ponytail. Funny how he now resembled the type of person he used to scoff at. There was something in that.

Outside the storm rages. Voices raised. Too many people in here. Each one carrying their own issues. All clashing, all in pain.

Jim had served in both the Gulf Wars. Neither had exactly been exactly a picnic. Still he got through both. Managed to rise through the ranks and become someone who could be depended on. Almost twenty five years service. He had left the army with an honourable discharge. He always though was a strange phrase.

Alex had been safe at university while Jim had been in the middle of a conflict zone. Had established himself as a GP in a nice suburban practice. He had been a successful man. Had a nice big house, nice car, nice wife and family. Obviously that was all over, all gone in one fell swoop. Struck off as a Doctor, nice wife had requested separation and sold nice car so no returning to nice house. No wonder he couldn’t stop whimpering. Jim had seen Alex’s wife when she came to visit that one time. Quite a looker but not really his sort. Came to ask Alex for a formal separation. Jim was grateful he had gotten the whole business of divorce sorted years ago. Good to at least be able to be friends with Miranda. Her freedom had been the only thing he had that he could give her by that point. She was happy enough with her new man. Fair enough.

Jim knew the term for what was wrong with him. Four letters. He knew all the statistics. He wasn’t a fool. He had seen where he had been heading the last ten years. The flashbacks, the panic attacks, the sudden anger.

Jim also knew what Alex was the minute he saw him. He recognised the signs. He had seen enough people with drug problems while he was in hostels to know to recognise a drug addict. For all his neat and tidy appearance Alex bore the marks of addiction- addiction that had lead him here. He had been helping himself to prescription drugs for years. It was a surprise he could function at all with what his intake eventually became. He was receiving treatment while in prison. Fair play to him. Didn’t make his withdrawal symptoms any less easy to be around

But what was Alex’s excuse? What had happened to him? Jim had once asked him directly (on an occasion when Alex had been more than usually annoying). Well Alex told him and Jim wished he had never asked. Don’t ask someone to tell you their deepest secret if you are not prepared to hear.

Alex was trying to read up and researching his options for when he was released. Typical swot. Jim couldn’t even begin to think what he would do. He had quite liked gardening. Possibly that was something he would pursue. Yes, that would be nice.

Jim had tried a bit of security work after leaving the army. But his mind was too fractured by this point. He couldn’t provide a home or keep a job. Strange how everything fell apart. It had almost been a relief. Suppose it was time to turn things around

The disturbance outside is getting worse. The angry winds of too little space, too little freedom whirl round.

Alex began moaning and crying in his sleep. Oh God, not again. Jim longed to yell out too but somehow he didn’t. He wanted to punch that door down, throw something against the wall. Suddenly the inner scream within him filled the room.

Alex climbed out of his bunk and lay on Jim’s. He placed his arms around Jim. He did not have to say anything. He held him firm and tight letting him know that he was secure and safe. Jim placed his arms around Alex and stroked his head. Jim had never realised that reaching out to another person in pain answered and helped heal his own. That compassion and gentleness could well inside of him instead of anger. The storm may rage outside but in here there was a strange peace. Jim knew Alex would hold him close until those winds abated.

Dawn was breaking outside. A kind of order was being restored by the prison authorities. Soon both his and Alex’s sentences would be served. What would happen afterwards? All Jim knew is that Alex and him had a pact they would rent a flat together (Alex had a bit of money to do this). They would support each other as they each tried to make a new life. No Jim did not regret landing up in prison at this point. He had found the truest friend he ever would.

The Bells

Of course she would meet him in a Library. There was something about the scent of age and knowledge of that particular library she found appealing. She would always think of him when she got that scent, when she felt the crispness of an autumn evening.

It had been a strangely happy time in her life- she was successfully in a post she enjoyed, she like the home she had been in for a year. She filled her life with music. It seemed the hard years were behind her.

The first sight of him beguiled her. Of course he was a Piscean, of course. She somehow had this very specific type- handsome moody Piscean with dark eyes and dark hair. He even had a connection to Abbey Road!

She would make her weekly pilgrimage to share his Sunday morning with him. Sometimes she made the same journey mid-week (she recalled the train broke down once- that had been a long journey home). It made it seem like something even more sacred and worthwhile to be with him to have to make that journey, to travel to a place she never knew before so often. She heard the bells calling her

He had visited her once at her home, just before Valentines Day. She would never forget seeing him at the bottom of the stairs at her work on Valentines day itself. He never looked more like a puppy. How she hugged him. Did her hear the bells too? Did they call him to her?

She never thought she would find so many things about herself answered in him. How much he echoed her experiences. She had found it so hard to relate to men. She was often scared of them but he had been such an exception. He seemed so gentle and thoughtful.

She remembered the blossoms were all out that Good Friday. He was like Spring. He was a gentle warmth in her heart, a blooming of sleeping flowers. Those particular spring blossoms would die forever never to bloom again after him.

An Easter kiss turned so cold by Pentecost. 49 days . Not long. Of course things began to go wrong in May. It had always been a strangely painful month the last few years. It always took something when it left. This time it would take him.

That Pentecost something died in her, never to be reborn. She would never forget how she felt when he uttered those words. It is was like she had physically been switched off.

How she regretted how angry her pain and loneliness had made her toward him, the angry words she told him. But what she felt was like an energy that needed to turn itself somewhere. She did not like how bitter she had been. She learnt the danger of making another human the focus of her happiness.

If she learnt one thing, it was that she understood what it meant to actually be in love. It had not been the childish crush she mistook for real feelings before. It had not been some immature bedazzling. She had learnt that she did have the ability to love and give another person that way. She may never feel that way again but she had at least felt that way once.

In the year after him, she made some effort to try and see if she could date other men. She even went on a couple of dates that came to nothing. But he was the true image. It only reminded her that no other man could ever occupy that part in her heart. He had been a rare exception, her one in a million. She realised that men held no real attraction for her. It had taken one that she had felt exceptional to even call her out of her solitude. She was not prepared to settle. The severance from him had almost killed her. But she did not regret anything about what she had learnt by the experience.

Perhaps she directed what she had felt for him into her love for the city she had spent part of her childhood in. The spring blossoms never stopped blooming there.

In the years after him, she learnt a lot about standing up as her own women. She would never be able to believe the things she believed when she was with him. If anything, his behaviour proved the points of the feminists she would follow. There would be no more Easter blossoms. No more worship of dead times and dead men. Her reborn life would have to affirm life, to affirm the beautiful now. She would learn to be a proud spinster. A wise hag helped her see the beauty of that term .

She thought about that song she used to listen to when travelling home from visiting him on Sunday – ‘I’ll never hear the bells again’ . Well she never would. But she would hear the call of solidarity with other women

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCLZxiu9SyE

Where have I been?

I had not used this blog for over five years up until a couple of weeks ago. I tended to use Tumblr until around 2017 then twitter. However I wanted to use this blog for the Hannah Gadsby post then realised I had other things I wanted to write about

I left the job I had been for over thirteen years at the end of 2017. I have been in a variety of jobs since. This is a decision I have no regrets about. I left on good terms but have no regrets about moving on. However because of some of the traumatic events in that job and other issues I decided I would prefer not to stay in contact with my ex colleagues. I have also not really heard from them either. But things are what they are. I feel a lot better for moving on. I never thought I would. I was not in a good place for the last few years in the role

I have had some very positive experiences since such as one of my jobs. This is a very uncertain time. But I have hope.

Try and do some feministing on twitter and upholding women with Turner Syndrome too.

We may be locked down but every day has the happiness of each other’s presence.

I walk by your door in the morning and you stand in the doorway and smile. I wish you good morning, wishing the best to you and all the loved ones who share your home and life. You always hold a cup of coffee in your hand. I know it means you wish things were as they were, that we were actually sitting in a café as we are wont to do! I smile to let you know you are not alone in this wish. I smile to let you know your loved ones are precious to me for the happiness they have brought you.

You walk by my door in the afternoon. I smile to let you know that your presence has brought joyful hours to this house, that these people I love that this home contains miss you too and wish for your presence too. Know they send you and yours their good wishes. I see you smile to let me know that you find this strange distance in closeness painful too.

We know we share worries about our loved ones far away. We knew the journey we are on wold take us physically far from them if not emotionally

Of course we will talk and laugh and share over the phone later. We will share silences and quiet moments as usual. We will laugh and delight in this friendship we share.

But oh how I miss the reassurance of you standing alongside me. How I miss you hand on my shoulder letting me know all will be well. I miss walking together. I miss us observing the world together, little looks exchanged and ideas noted.

Our friendship will stand.

The vampire

It is a Friday evening. As usual the girl had been at the hospital. In the past eighteen months every part of her had been scrutinised and found wanting. She was too clumsy. She did not speak properly. She was not outgoing enough. She was not clever enough. And of course there was something broken inside her.

She is twelve years old in her school uniform. Even by the standards of her age and time she is not very worldly. And of course even for her age she does not take up much space in the world.

She recalled a butterfly had landed on her arm one afternoon. It found out her secret and whispered its revelations in others ears. But she had not been trusted with these secrets. She had to figure it out. Soon a whole rabble of butterflies would be descending to study her and deconstruct her.

She will be put under their microscopes. They will tell her how they will improve her. She will sit in many different rooms while they talk at her.

There was a flutter in the air. She looked behind. There was the boy. He showed his sharp teeth. Discoloured fangs. His face contorted with malice. It was almost as if he

She knows immediately what type of a creature he is. Knows she must watch her step. She knows that much. That knowledge she was born with, like all girls

He follows her, tries to make some excuse to talk to her. She

She tries to walk faster. Holds her bag knowing she may need to use it as a weapon.She sees the cruelly with which he looks at her.

' You know I am a vampire right'almost like a boast or a demand for attention.

He tries to grab her. Tries to pull her toward those fangs. Seems to think she should bend herself to him and be grateful That somehow he is showing her the way things are.

She will not be his victim. She has had enough taken from her the last few months. He will not take more.

She yells and struggles and runs. She will not tell of this for years. Like all girls she has been taught not to speak of such things- who wants to believe they happen?

She could have told him older and more skilled vampires than him have their claim on her. Ones who she cannot run away from.

Wednesday Afternoon 3pm

Every Wednesday at 3pm, Stella puts out she has baked (Victoria sponge –Isabel’s favourite) and brews the tea (Stella has Darjeeling just for Isabel to drink) . Wednesday afternoon was one time of the week they had a couple of free hours.

They were born within week of each other almost 54 years before, a couple of years before the really hard times. They began school on the same day. They became teenagers soon after the war began. Stella left school at fourteen to work in the factory, Isabel stayed on another year, then also started at the factory before moving on to clerical work.

Stella always thought Isabel brighter than her, but she never made her feel less. Isabel was constantly praising Stella’s intelligence (more than Stella thought she deserved), sharing books she found interesting, and encouraging her to learn more about different topics. They would spend hours discussing books and newpaper articles when they had free time (which was rare).

Stella always thought Isabel a beauty - what it was to have seen her grow into the woman she was. Her sparkling eyes, auburn hair, her glowing smile. More than this, she always knew how to carry herself with grace. Stella admired her ability to dress as elegantly as any duchess even on the little money she ever had. Even in her mid 50s she was still a striking woman. Stella always felt dowdy and ordinary (actually she knew she was) but Isabel always told her she was anything but. And that made her feel beautiful.

Ian started courting Stella when she was seventeen and they married when she was 19. He has always been a gentleman. He had been all Stella could have asked for in a husband. If Stella had to chose a man, then she made the right choice. He has never once failed her in any way and always been an affectionate and loyal husband, always been a gentle man in every way. When Stella thought of some of the men in the town, she counted herself truly lucky. There was a sort of love between them and he was the father of her beloved children, the man she made a home with. They had grandchildren who visited them every Sunday. Would she have lived my life without her children and grandchildren, even for Isabel? Stella did not know. Ian will always have a part of her. He sometimes placed his hand in hers to let her know all is well and all is enough. But Stella sensed he knew what place Isabel held in her life.

Isabel married Stuart. She waited a bit longer to marry– until she was twenty two. Their two children live in other towns, being encouraged by Isabel to think beyond the streets of this town. Stuart sometimes looked at Stella like he knew. She felt there could be something cutting about how he spoke to her at times. Still he was a good man in his own way.

Isabel was always able to see the limits of this world and see the ways in which they were bound. She got involved with trade unionism. She managed to gain a seat on the local council. It had been hard work but Isabel won the respect of her fellow councillors.

When their children were teenagers, Isabel understood how things were changing for them. She always loved the music her children were listening to, particularly The Beatles. Stella never really got their music until she saw Isabel dancing round the room to them.

When the feminists started getting in the news a few years back, it was no surprise Isabel was a big supporter. She always said that women had it harder and needed to stick together (well she and Stella certainly did). She even set up a women’s consciousness raising group and she worked to help get funding for childcare.

Soon there would be more difficult times, Stella knew. She was glad that someone with Isabel’s sense was around this town.

Isabel arrived promptly at 3pm. Tea and cake are served and updates given on both families. Then Isabel would touch Stella’s face. Then she would pull her close into her arms. Every Wednesday 3pm it was just the two of them.

It was strange that it was not until Stella was in her late forties that she discovered the word for what she and Isabel felt for each other. Stella began to wonder at the miracle that she and Isabel had found each other. She started to comprehend the wonder that all she felt for Isabel was mirrored. They had a life together. They had this time.

Every Saturday at 2pm Stella and Isabel go for a walk in the local park. People are used to seeing them there at that time. They sit on the bench and talk a while if the weather is good. It was an early autumn afternoon and the trees were already beginning to turn. The last burst of summer’s rays warmed the park. How glorious Stella thought to be here in this moment.

last Christmas

It was the last Christmas I went back to my parents by myself. I had been back for Christmas with Lionel about three years previously (I don’t know who was more wary, me or him). We had been together almost three years so I told him we were not putting off any longer. Particularly as we had spent the last two Christmases with his family. It was a bit of a contrast. Not up the standard he was used to. After that we agreed we would spend Christmas separately with our respective families then spend New year together. I had spent the previous Christmas with Lionel with some of our friends – that had turned out well (he says sarcastically). I knew that there would be no more Christmases with Lionel and no matter how awkward they had been I could not help feel a sense of regret.

After all, wasn’t it I who ended it? About three months later we agreed to have one of those free and frank discussions about the state of our relationship. No screaming or accusations but I told him that we were not in the place I thought we should be and it was better to quietly accept it and move on (especially after the events of Christmas had confirmed he was involved with Ray ). He did not take it well but I packed my things and moved out a few days later. I was not entirely surprised to hear that he was officially dating Ray a few weeks later (not that in truth I had minded all that much for what it was worth). Lionel never really understood I was not mad at all about any of it- perhaps that annoyed him. Ray’s husband Pete was absolutely fuming about it all when I met him for coffee. I felt for the guy even though he wasn’t someone I had a huge amount in common with (apart from the fact our respective partners going off together).

Now I realise from what I said earlier Lionel must have come off as a snob. He really wasn’t. He had a far wider selection of friends than me and had an ability to get on with anyone and enjoy himself in any situation. That was one of the things I found attractive in him. Perhaps it was actually me thinking that by pulling a man from his background I was bettering myself. I don’t like thinking of myself as some type of social climber but hey- if the glove fits. Lionel possibly understood this and it was almost touching that he wanted to help me along the way. He certainly never mentioned it to me let alone reproach me. He knew I was always moving forward . But he wanted to stand still, perhaps because the place he was in was more than comfortable enough. Perhaps that is why it worked out with Matthew and myself. Matthew is on his own journey.

Besides Lionel always loved that he could indulge in the campier side of Christmas with me without judgement. We would sing ‘Last Christmas’ together and watch ‘Love actually ‘ to have a good laugh at it. He never really got to enjoy the campier side of Christmas as a young person like I did . He said he always had this feeling about George Michael and how he had a crush on him as a teenager. Lionel always did have good gaydar. I could not help but him deeply attractive when he would sing Wham songs at the top of his voice (even if he had a terrible singing voice).

Mum and Dad still had the same tree they had for the previous twenty years and the same ornaments they had for decades. They even give me the same gift each year (an aftershave I used to like). I of course smile and accept gratefully (me and Lionel did have a good laugh privately about it). I was missing joking with him more than anything that day. I had missed joking with him for long time. The first time I took him to meet Mum and Dad I wondered what he made of them. But know I wonder what they had made of him. At least I can say he was his usual charming self and never gave the impression he was uncomfortable. Again I had to admire him for that.

If this was a Hollywood film I suppose I would be a character who had some big realisation about the importance of family and home and I would end up getting together with my long lost childhood story. Well that is not my story. I am not about to apologise for the person I am or the fact I moved away from all of this. I am not ashamed I earn a great wage or focus on my career. If I ever came back to live in Dublin I would not move back here! No if I do I am getting a place in Blackrock. Not apologising for that ever. Not prepared to be ‘the only gay in the village’. As I said I always needed to move forward.

Lionel was always intrigued by Dublin (Matthew is as well but in a more innocent and open way) and he insisted we go to midnight mass that Christmas we were together along with going for a bracing morning walk along the beach on Christmas morning. We wrote silly messages in the sand. I had my revenge when I dragged him to the service at his family’s local church and we went on the Christmas morning walk along the Kent country lanes the next year which was his family tradition. Actually had quite a good chat with his father on that walk. He was impressed by my knowledge of French literature and wine. Nice chap. Actually quite miss him and Lionel’s mum.

At 8am on Christmas morning I got a text from Lionel – ‘Wishing you and yours a good Christmas. All the best-L’. I texted back wishing him something similar. I wondered if he remembered last Christmas morning and the strained atmosphere. I knew he and Ray had only been together a few months before they realised there was no real basis to the relationship than finding out there was life beyond the respective long term relationships they had both unconsciously been trying to escape. I just hoped Lionel did not follow up this Christmas greeting with another request to give things another try. He did not which was as good a Christmas gift I ever got from him.

After helping Mum prepare some of the vegetables and Turkey I took myself of for a walk along the beach. Had to have a bit of time by myself. Of course I was the only person there by myself. I looked at the families and couples and did not feel envious or even sad. I remembered sending Lionel a photo of the sea one Christmas I was here while we were together. It was strange the things I recalled and would miss. The colour of the winter sand reminded me of his hair (did I actually text that to him? – sometimes I am very capable of being maudlin)

Aidan, my brother, would be joining us later. Sinead, my sister, was spending the day with her family. I feel bad that it has been left to Sinead to carry on the family line. She does get pretty annoyed with me at times which is more than fair enough. Aidan for his own reasons was unlikely to ever find someone to settle down with. Poor guy- at least I had never any issues finding companionship.

I joked with Dad had he got Aidan’s wine gums for him. Bit of a Christmas tradition. I could actually see them wrapped up under the tree along with my aftershave. Truly sometimes family traditions can be as relied on as anything else to mark and anchor you. Truly my Mum and dad are two of the most reliable and decent people I know. They don’t always understand me but they at least try. What a strange son I must have seemed to them at times.

I always knew when it was better to move on. I suppose I am not one for unhelpful sentimental attachments holding you in the past. It was like that with Lionel. After all It was me who got us to face up to things and cut the chord. Did I really want to do it? I don’t know… I was 37 with no sign that my boyfriend of almost six years who I had been living with for almost four years was remotely interested in committing to me seriously. I am not that unsentimental.

I met Matthew at that New Years Party. He could not have been more different from Lionel- in every way. He is just as handsome in a very different way. Rather than winter sand his hair is the colour of a Christmas pine. While he is a few years younger than Lionel it is strange to reflect how mature and at peace with himself he is. Did not think that I would not just have met someone but be engaged within twelve months. We can never see No more Christmases visiting by myself after that. We even managed to arrange a Christmas where his mum and my folks together this last Christmas.

Did I ever forsee that in the space of three Christmases the tides that would carry one love away and bring another

A tribute to Peter Young- personal memories

As I am blogging here a bit more I want to pay tribute to the great Soul and Jazz DJ Peter Young who passed away in late 2018. He played such an important role in my life. Please note this is just a personal tribute and relates a lot of my own experiences

Peter Young was a DJ on Capital Radio in the 1980's and it was during this period I began to become aware of him. I can recall his 'Soul Cellar' show being on the car radio on a couple of occasions. In particular I recall hearing him play Gene McDaniel's original version of 'Point of no return' (amazingly it looks like someone actually has posted the specific show online)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOzVZ4_pBrU

Another track I recall Peter Young playing from this period is Gilberto Gil's 'Toda menina Bahiana' - (Gary Crowley would choose this track to go with his memories of Peter in the Jazzfm tribute show to Peter). Peter would regularly feature music from Brazil and Latin America as well as Ska and Reggae. He recognised music from around the world

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgQLOSpG4EM

But it was in the late 1980s that I started to listen to Peter Young's Sunday evening show on Capital Gold religiously. Not only did he play some more obscure oldies his great sense of humour was very much in evidence. I remember his 'Fab four freakout' and themed hours (one one occasion. He once did a show where he had an A-Z of artists (I remember he used Miss X 'My name's Christine' for X!). He would play comedy sketches from the likes of Tony Hancock and Pete and Dud. I loved a jingle using the backing track of 'wouldn't it be nice' with new lyrics by Kenny Everett he would use. I even got to speak to Peter once when he had a Beatles request phone in- I requested 'Old Brown Shoe'

PY helped develop my love of soul. I clearly remember hearing 'The Snake' by Al Wilson for the first time on his show and being absolutely riveted - I did not forsee the end of that song! Another great song I remember him playing was 'God, if you're a woman ' by Darlene Love (major tune). But in particular I recall him playing 'That's the way God planned it' by Billy Preston. Peter Young would tell the story that he got to play this on Radio One in 1969 (actually making this the first record he played on air). Peter always saw that George Harrison who produced this track had a love of soul music (more of which anon)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K30cRTcrIFA

In 1990 Peter Young moved to Jazzfm where he would stay (on and off) for the rest of his career. I did not listen as mush I must confess. However I was fiddling around with my radio in early 1996 and found him again there (I had a very vivid dream where this happened). I would continue listening to him for the next twenty years. In particular I loved the last 15 minutes of his show where he had the soul cellar (I recall sitting in the Library I then worked in listening to it). That awesome jingle (based on Lou Rawl's 'Dead end street') always filled me with joy - still does (They say its a big bad town but I know where the soul is at!). During this period my love of soul music was increasing and more than anyone Peter Young played a major role in educating me and helping to introduce me to both performers and tracks.

Curtis Mayfield (possibly my all time favourite artist) died in December 1999 and Peter played tribute to him. We would occasionally chat about Curtis via social media (particularly Peter's official facebook page). On the tenth anniversary of Curtis Mayfield's passing Peter dedicated most of his show to Curtis after we discussed is anniversary. Peter would always feature obscure or lesser known Curtis Mayfield tracks and tracks he wrote and/or produced like the following Dana Valery track .

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8raQ36HWdc

When George Harrison died in 2001 Peter Young played tribute to him over several weeks and we corresponded about George and his love of soul. I was deeply affected by George's passing and Peter Young's tributes helped with my grief. He featured the tracks George helped to produce for Doris Troy and Billy Preston and would always champion these tracks. On the tenth anniversary of George's passing Peter would pay a tribute to him

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsEs8UFGS7k

While Peter Young primarily focussed on soul and jazz from 1990 onwards he had an appreciation for music across the pop spectrum. He said some lovely words about Brian Wilson after his appearance at the Queens Golden Jubliee concert in 2002

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Y-0nWVdBH4

In 2002 Peter Young temporarily left Jazzfm and in 2002 did a show during Saturday night on BBC London. Even though it meant waking up at about 3am I listened in.

I met Peter Young in 2002 at the London Film Festival Screening of 'Standing in the shadows of Motown'. I gave him a copy of 'From us to you' by the Stairsteps (which was issued on George Harrison's Dark Horse label!). It was great to finally meet him.

In early 2003 Peter returned to Jazzfm (at a reasonable hour!) and I greatly enjoyed his two weekend shows (which later became just one). I recall sitting with my grandmother when he played Mary Love Comer's 'Come out of the sandbox'. It is lovely to have that memory.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=od5OD5MpvZY

Peter Young had absolutely impeccable taste in soul and jazz and was deeply knowledgeable about both (he knew what he did and did not like!). He shared this knowledge and enthusiasm in such an unpretentious and friendly manner. He was always clearly delighted to discuss tracks with his audience and take suggestions from them. He genuinely connected with and respected his audience and treated his listeners like friends. I chatted with him a few times via email and social media and he was always warm and respectful and genuinely interested in what I had to say

In early 2010 a variety of difficult happened to people close to me. It was a painful period but Peter Young's show was a massive comfort through it. I especially recall his show of May 1st 2010 where he played Cajun Hart's 'Got to find a way'. His Soul Cellar compilation that Jazzfm issued the previous year was almost on constant rotation. He helped get me through the next few years.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRZO4LJfn9w

As an aside one fun memory of him from this period is listening to his show on a long car journey with my sister and her family in late August 2011 and him playing a Curtis Mayfield track.

One of the many things that was great about Peter was he always championed female artists particularly African American artists like Bettye Lavette (I got into her recent albums through him), Etta James, Syreeta Wright, Valerie Simpson, Sharon Jones and the dapp kings, and Betty Swann- amongst many others.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yB1OaZ0eD2Q

Peter also had a keen understanding that soul and jazz are routed in the African American experience and speak about the continuing issues the African American community face. He marked the election of Barack Obama over a couple of shows. In last couple of years of his life he championed the work of Rasheed Ali and the 1968 project which showed how classic soul of the 1960s was absolutely linked to and commented on the political and social struggles of the African American community of the period

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zd8B-bAAMH8&list=PLL34Za2m8AkF9P_mgtyUMc3yj6KsRpExy

And of course Peter had a wicked sense of humour. He could crack some self deprecating jokes and also some pointed political/social commentary. I also liked that he made frequent mention of the cheese and tomato sandwich he was going to have for lunch. I once sent him a joke about this track being on the Richard Nixon memorial compilation after he played it which he seemed to enjoy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZmaTah38Ng

Peter would always make a point of paying tribute to soul and jazz artists when they passed. I recall his tributes to Isaac Hayes, General Johnson (of Chairman of the board), Bobby Hebb, Allen Toussaint and Terry Callier amongst many (sadly). Not only that but Peter would pay tribute to artists such as James Brown and Bobby Womack over a year when they passed.

Sadly in early 2016 Peter had long periods of illness which meant he had to take two long periods of absence from his Saturday show. He managed to present the show for a final few months in late 2016 and early 2017. One of my final memories of his show is his playing Roberta Flacks's version of 'Hey that's no way to say goodbye' in honour of Leonard Cohen. Sadly he had to retire due to ill health in early 2017 .

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kz38Vxkyow4

For the next 18 months I would think of Peter Young regularly especially at 5pm on Saturday when the Soul Cellar was broadcast. I hoped he knew people were thinking of him and how much they respected him. But on a friday evening in November 2018 I was sitting at home when I saw Peter's photo on my social media feed. It was the announcement of his passing. There have been few deaths , even of people I have been close to , that hit me as hard.I know that so many of us who listened to Peter's show were similarly affected.It was deeply moving to listen to the tribute to Peter Young on Jazzfm at Christmas 2018 where many of his colleagues shared their memories. More than one shed tears and it was clear how respected and loved he was by them.

I am just so grateful for my memories of listening to Peter Young's shows over thirty years and for the musical education he gave me and others. I just want to share some of these memories. As he said himself 'Don't keep the faith, share it!

Just a further thought

I try to speak my own personal truth about my experiences as a woman with Turner Syndrome

My friendships with other women with Turner Syndrome are one of the most important things in my life. I try to listen and learn from them.

Being a woman with Turner Syndrome is something at the centre of my being and informs a lot of who I am- and often positively. It has given me such insights

I cannot help but connect my experiences with Turner Syndrome to the experiences of other women. It has taken me years to name and articulate what I went through, to disclose the attempted rape and the inappropriate behaviour of the doctor who treated me as a teenager

Social media has helped me and connected me with many other women. >I have learnt a lot from them.

I have tried to raise my voice in a constructive and helpful way

But I feel I get too annoyed with others and that I contribute to the negative/unhelpful energy. I also spend to much time engaging in unhelpful discussions.

I have no regrets but want to rethink how I live things out

Dear Hannah Gadsby

To Hannah Gadsby

I watched your previous Netflix special ‘Nanette’ and like many women found it profoundly powerful and moving. It spoke a lot of truths about women’s lives and experiences especially lesbians and non gender conforming women. I attended you show ‘Douglas’ last year along with several friends who are radical feminists we all greatly enjoyed it as an exploration of autism, amusing and informative art history lecture and discussion of how women are treated by the medical profession. I especially liked your explanation of the Douglas pouch (!) and your righteous take down of anti-vaxxers.

I was looking forward to seeing the show on Netflix so I began watching it the day it was released. I was enjoying but then at about nineteen minutes in during a bit about Hogwarts House you came out with this

‘Hermione – she’s probably txrf – fxxk her – punching up!’

Where to begin with this?

The only charitable reading of this where do not seem to be endorsing a misogynistic term is that you are trying to satirise the response to women who speak up online. However even if it is, (and this reading is a massive stretch) it is a very poor way of doing so. And it is far too ambiguous.

But no one reads this joke this way. I do not believe that this is what you intended. You seem to actually be endorsing the use of this term and enjoy the cheer you get from some in the audience.

Hannah, this term has been used to vandalise a rape crisis centre in Canada with death threats. It has been used with violent language at demonstrations and appeared in graffiti using death threats recently in France and Spain. It has been recognised as hate speech by the UK Courts.

This is a term used frequently with threats of both violence and rape. It is not just used against radical feminists but towards lesbians standing for their sexuality, trans people who have different opinions on the trans issue, women who discuss female biology, rape and domestic violence supporters who argue for the importance of female only spaces for their recovery and women who run rape crisis and domestic violence services. Heck it has even been used against you for discussing how other people react to you as a gender non-conforming woman. And often it is men (young men at that) or anonymous trolls using it against women, especially feminists and lesbians.

You repeat the sexually aggressive language that the term ‘txxf’ is frequently is used with by men by saying ‘fxxk her’. Are threats of sexual violence and the use of sexually aggressive language used against women when they are classed as ‘txxf’s? Do they not deserve to be proceeded from sexual threats because people call them ‘txrfs?’ Do you see this this acceptable? Because that is the message of that joke.

You also seem to think it is funny to emulate male sexual aggression against women by saying ‘fxxk her’ about a female character who is widely read as a feminist and a role model to girls. We as women have to deal with many aggressive (particularly sexually aggressive) jokes from male comics against female characters who are perceived as strong and or feminist. Misogynistic Male comics already see it as their role to tear down these female characters and ‘put them in their place’. Is this really something you want to perpetuate and buy into?

Basically this joke boils down to ‘burn the witch!’ quite literally (and on a number of levels), with zero irony or wit.. This is just the same old misogyny we get from male comics.

Also the ‘punching up’ line at the end. I know it is not meant to endorse violence. But using this line after this joke does not look good after using a term that frequently gets used with threats of violence against women. Especially when feminists like Julie Bindel who have been branded txxfs have actually faced and had to deal with physical attacks.

But an especially disturbing aspect of this joke is that it seems to be a none too coded attack on JK Rowling. JK Rowling has received hundreds of rape and death threats on twitter (there are receipts) with this term. By telling this joke you not just ignore the harassment another woman has faced but you seem to think it is funny and almost seems to say she deserves it.

Whether you meant it, this joke sends the message that it is permissible to abuse and harass any woman branded a t**f . You are sending the message any violence (physical, sexual or emotional) these women have faced or the work they do helping other women does not matter- they are only txxfs so they get whatever they deserve is what this joke says.. It is a dehumanising anti woman joke. You speak about being kind and moving away from humour that depends on cruelly and misogyny as its punchline. However with this joke you have brought into the worst aspects of comedy and cruelly to others.

You did not tell this joke in the London show which is telling. It would not have gone down well, I can affirm. I for one would have walked out and demanded a refund.

Hannah you have many female fans who are radical feminists. They have to deal with how society treats gender non-conforming women, lesbians and feminists (and indeed Radical Feminists). We found so much comfort and inspiration from you. I know lesbians who have autism who got so much comfort from the Douglas show when they saw it last year. These women have had to navigate patriarchy, homophobia, regressive gender roles and male violence like you have . This joke seems to betray those fans and just seems to affirm we deserve the violence we have faced. Is that really what you intend?

Hannah you can disagree with others and make your point without using language like this. You could have very easily begun a dialogue in a respectful manner with other women. You are capable of this. Instead you took the lowest road and actually not just ‘punched low’ but ‘punched low’ in a manner that harms other women.

And finally- it is not just a joke that hates women it’s just a very weak joke.

You have so many important things to say and are capable of telling truths with humour and wit. But with this ‘joke’ the power of your message is lost. It completely undermines not just the remaining one hour and twelve minutes of ‘Douglas’ for me it has undone a lot of the impact of ‘Nanette’. This is not cancelling you. This is just expressing pain that yet another woman appears to buy into idea that they can use violent language against women she is told are not worthy of respect.

I am saying all this as a woman who has dealt with sexual assault and has been called that word just for trying to explain a medical condition I have. I just hope you come to realise just how poorly judged this joke was and learn to not insult many good women who listened to you.