What’s your biggest regret?

I don’t really have many regrets. 

I make most decisions quite carefully, although I’m not especially risk-averse (in the physical, daring sense at least), so between these two factors, there are only rare occasions when I’ve either missed out by avoiding something (regret: inaction) or unwisely chosen to pursue something that turned out badly (regret: action).

I have a sufficiently untroubled life to avoid dwelling on minor historical decisions or indecisions, so my only regrets that come to mind are pretty lame, and possibly likely to have led me – had I pursued them – to somewhere less profitable and enjoyable in my present life. Unsurprisingly, both my regrets fall into the regret: INaction category...

Regret number one: I wish I’d been more of a slut when I was younger.
I am pretty jealous of all the guys I know who went around having sex with loads of guys. I’ve been coupled since seventeen, aside from the odd (sanctioned) recreational assignation, and missed out on slutty teens and slutty twenties.

But I’m aware it generally sounds more fun than it actually is, and half the guys I know who *did* enjoy the penises of others more regularly than I, say they regret it, say it was thoroughly unenjoyable and usually made them miserable afterwards. If not during.

The other half are completely fucked up by the experience and seem incapable of recovering to a point where they can sustain a meaningful relationship again.

So yes, whilst I’m jealous on a superficial level, I think, in retrospect, I’m probably better off as I am.

Regret number two: I wish I’d auditioned for things and given it my all.
I loved theatre as a teen; I loved to act and – to a lesser extent – sing, and I dabbled a little bit. I was reasonably good, within the high school context, but quite fearful about not being the best. (Academically, I was the best, and that made me safe – trying at something and being just okay?  That was an ordeal for me.  Or would have been had I gone through with it.)

I did a couple of auditions, and got parts in a couple of productions, but I look back and realise how much I held back, even once I was in them, even once it got to the performances. I wish I’d auditioned for more things, maybe outside of school, and let myself go a bit. I think I could have been much better and really enjoyed it. My brief forays into theatre were amazing, and I’ve always been a bit cross with myself that I never really went for it.

But... well, they were such time-vampires, and such big commitments. I don’t know -  it couldn’t have hurt, could it...

Something you’ll never forget

Susie joined my class late.  Far too late.  Whilst you could never credibly argue that mainstream never works for children with special needs, there are countless examples when mainstream placements have caused considerable damage.

In Susie’s case, she had languished in a large mainstream secondary school for almost four years, unable to manage with the bustle and chaos of large classes of thirty-plus children, bells ringing, mass movements of the entire population between lessons, and the noise and confusion of the playground.  Add to this the pace, complexity of language and social interaction inherent to mainstream lessons and it is also apparent that she wasn’t able to meaningfully access any classes or learn anything.

Consequently, she had spent most of her four years not speaking, sat in a room on her own in a learning resource unit, doing one-to-one work with a teaching assistant and steadily becoming more withdrawn and anxious.

She joined me at the age of fifteen, near the end of year 10, integrating into my class of eight autistic pupils who had all been together for four years, and who had been with me for four years as their teacher. When she arrived she barely spoke at all, avoided all interaction and was essentially terrified of everything. She didn’t have any friends and had no confidence in any skills, subjects or abilities.

Honestly, with just over a year before she would leave school, I kind of thought it was too late for Susie. But we never just give up-  so my work began.

I’m not going to take all the credit, as there were many adults involved across the school, but she was so anxious she basically clung to me, and I was her teacher, her ‘trusted adult’, and it fell to me to start her programme. So I was the one driving, I suppose. Equally, beyond the work I and others put in, the situational effects of just being in a calmer, quieter, smaller environment with fewer people, less-complex language and fewer confusing social interactions and expectations flying around without anyone to help unpick them cannot be underestimated. The very fact of placing her in a specialist autistic class was likely half the battle.

But it took a while to build up her confidence, to teach her to speak up, to get her to relax and enjoy school, to feel confident in her abilities (she was actually very bright) and to trust other pupils to be her friends.

Within a couple of months, however,  she was talking, laughing and having friends round after school. She added them on Facebook and MSN and talked about it in the day with them. She soared academically, developed a sense of humour, she had arguments and reconciliations, she went out (in so much as they said they were going out – I don’t think they ever actually *went* anywhere) with a boy.

She had a normal teenage school girl experience, if a little immature relative to her chronological age, but it was a real experience.

I only had a year, but I did it.  And then?  When my class finished year 11, and were all leaving school, when we had their leavers’ ceremony with readings and speeches and music and a hall full of two hundred-odd people in the audience...?

She stood up and sang a solo.

And it was pretty good.

I literally sobbed.

It was so moving and amazing and I was so proud. Of her, but also of myself.

I did that.

Yes, she did it too – of course I was proud of that.  But that makes me remember why I do this job.

That’s what I’ll never forget.

Day 13: The story of your life in 250 words. Exactly.

The story of my life in 250 words precisely... can be read here.

But whilst I have your attention, and I have 250 entirely fresh words to kill, I thought I might go into a little more detail about some of the early days...

I liked school. I went to Leverton Junior, a fairly crappy primary school in Essex. It was quite rough in many ways; low-aspiration, low-income, low-expectation - but I did fine. My family were always a bit out of place there. In Waltham Abbey, and within school... We always did homework, attended parents’ evenings, read at home and didn’t have a satellite dish. No wonder we were outcasts; I didn’t think about it ‘til now but mummy always said she felt we didn’t fit in, and it’s only now I realise why.

But it was fine. I liked being the clever one. 

Then I went to Roding Valley, a large Essex comprehensive. Not a good school according to league tables, but I loved it. I finally found people who were a bit like me, who I could relate to, and who are still my closest friends, 22 years later. Actually, we all ended up in Brighton together. Roding was great – a real mixture of people, and some proper Essex characters.  Half of my form were pregnant by the time we did GCSEs.

The female half, presumably.

But I thrived. Academically, yes -  but more importantly I became confident and sociable; I wasn’t at primary school, though hadn’t realised at the time. Having a real group of friends made a massive difference, and despite the league tables – if you worked hard you were totally able to achieve there. 

Not many people I know remember it with any fondness, but I loved it.

There you go, 250 words precisely.

To be fair, would you socialise with this?

I have never...

...had a cup of tea.

People don’t believe me, but it’s true.  I think they assume I just don’t like it and haven’t had one for years, but that isn’t it. I was MADE to try it once, in 1987, at my nan’s house. I took a sip and sort of pretended to drink it, but the smell really put me off, so I didn’t actually drink it.

It was under the flimsy pretext of “If you’ve never tried it, how do you know”, but I wasn’t an easy sell. 

You know if you don’t like things, don’t you? As children, we sometimes assume we don’t like things based on... well – not much. But as adults, we become more adventurous (usually) and if we don’t like things, it’s generally because we’ve tried it or have some other, very good reason for dismissing something.

But the tea thing?

PEOPLE JUST WILL NOT ACCEPT YOU DON’T LIKE TEA.

They are unprepared to believe that you’ve not tried it.

And they forget.  They forget that you don’t drink hot drinks, even despite the massive song and dance they make EVERY TIME THEY OFFER THEM. Or they acknowledge your non-tea drinking, but offer you one anyway, “in case you’ve changed your mind.”

Nothing wrong with that, obviously, but it is REALLY WEIRD when it’s happening to you.

Yes, hot drinks in general. I know, right?

How do you know you don’t like it if you’ve never tried it.

I don’t really drink hot drinks at all, though I have had a cup of hot chocolate in the last few years. I think I had one with Baileys in it or something, as long as it is made with half milk and half hot water so it’s... well, not hot.

I just don’t like hot drinks.

I like cold drinks. I like to feel refreshed. Hot drinks are just... it’s weird, okay?

Don’t get me started on my year in Canada. Meeting a Brit who
       a) didn’t like tea, and
       b) had never had it before was conceptually baffling in North America.

People actually doubted my UK credentials.

I’m surprised they let me through border control at all. I’m not sure I’d make it through US immigration in the current climate once they got wind of my inexplicable hot-drink perversions.

Day 31: A vivid memory (#BEDM).

My Hag Do was one of my best days ever.

Stag + Hen = Hag.

I went to amazing trouble to provide something that was local, cheap, original and fun. Too many stag dos now are really ridiculous: Self-indulgent, expensive, unreasonable and unjustifiably over the top. Bridal couples seem to expect as a matter of course that now, rather than a night out or whatever, you have to go on a short holiday to an expensive foreign country, incurring hotel bills, flight costs without even considering the exorbitant fees for the go-karting, paintballing, food and booze. It’s painful and a little bit selfish.

I wanted none of it.

Hag Day 2008 was a day of fun in Brighton. We met on the beach, in teams of 5-8. I provided each team with a bottle of booze, a disposable camera and a list of 100 challenges. The premise?

Choose 30 challenges and record them on your camera. Easy challenges earn low points, hard challenges earn high points. Combining challenges in a single photograph can win you mega super points.

For example:
Re-enact Riverdance would be low scoring. Too easy...
Remove furniture from a house dressed as a burglar- high points. Much more challenging.
Kicking a cripple, then kidnapping their pet whilst dressed in newspaper clothes... mega points. You could practically win with one photograph if you achieved that.

Dressed as a monarch, stealing a dog.

Of course, no-one had to actually attack a cripple. You just had to get creative and courageous with your photographs, and simulate each challenge in a pleasing way.

But it was genius. I thought of everything... I even put our local, cheap and student-friendly photography development place on high alert for several rounds of bizarre photograph submissions, primed and ready, for the 4pm cut off.

Blagging their way into the doughnut shop.

Then teams got a text with submission instructions- to arrive on the beach at 5pm with their completed photo-assignment, dressed as... BACOFOIL ROBOTS!

Bacofoil robots convene on the beach.

It was the best day ever. Some people lamed out a bit, and some went completely fucking all out!

Then, to top it off, I hired a venue for a party, where we did an awards ceremony and drank and danced the night away. It was frickin’ awesome.

Collecting stamps and performing a 

sacrifice in a newspaper outfit.

I didn’t even get that wasted, because I was concentrating on seamless organisation and orchestration throughout the day. A bit sketchier in the evening, when i was made to drink beer (bleurgh!) and wear a bra (woop!), and do some challenges of my own.

But so the most awesome day ever.  I loved it and I really should organise another someday soon...

breaking into school in the holidays to make rude art.

***************************************

The challenges? I won’t recount them all, but highlights include:

Re-enact the feeding of the 5000
Simulate sex in a public place
Celebrate Christmas (it was May)
Disgust me
Torture a cuddly toy
Be a gimp
Prick up your ears
Kiss a copper
Impersonate a monarch
Steal candy from a baby
Get a job
Sell something
Make doughnuts
Backstreet gambling den
Play a game with a pensioner
Carry more than 1 passenger
Organise a large-scale piggyback derby
Find your sinister evil twin
Food fight with strangers
Steal a pet
Take something back that costs less than 50p
Dress age-inappropriate
Dance off with a stranger
Food fight with a member of the public
Go dogging
Take something back that you’ve blatantly eaten
Dance with a very short man
Create some art
Pay child fare
Start a band
Dine out in fancy dress
Pour water over a stranger
Hold something dangerous
Eat something horrid
Old lady holding inappropriate sign

Day 29: Five songs or pieces of music that speak to you or bring back memories (#BEDM).

5 songs, not necessarily good songs, that take me back to times past. Some of them in fact, are actually quite bad songs...

Dario G – Sunchyme.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yal9En46tt4

My 16^th birthday: My friends and I went to Leicester Square in London, to the Capital Café. I’d always been a bit worried that I didn’t really have ‘enough’ friends. I know better now, of course. But around 15/16, not only did I suddenly find myself with a nice circle of close friends growing around me, but I actually started to socialise with them, and go out doing exciting things for the first time. And I remember sitting in the restaurant with my friends, this song was playing, and I thought ‘You know what? I’m going to be alright. Life is good, and I am happy.’

And those best friends I had then?  They’re still my best friends now...

Britney Spears – Oops, I did it again.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ImIa_5awDFg

University. My favourite club- the illustrious Dynamite Boogaloo. It was an amazing phenomenon that I am happy and glad to have been a part of. It was more than a night out- it was a bit special to the people who went there. And at the peak of my times there, before it moved, evolved, grew, then moved on, we used to do silly dance routines dressed in ridiculous outfits. Everyone did. It was that sort of place.
My favourite memory- a BAD homemade dance routine we drunkenly improvised whilst standing on the stairs queuing for coats, ready to leave as it was crazy-late and we were flagging. But Britney started. That instantly-recognisable first double strike- and we just made up this stupid, crazy, drunken dance there on the stairs.
And then? Everyone started doing it; copying our routine like some glittery workout video. It was the strangest thing, but SO much fun... It reminds me of uni, it reminds me of my best nights out, and it reminds me of everything I loved about Dynamite Boogaloo.

David Essex – A Winter’s tale

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NL6jptOQ84A

So yeah- when my dad left AGAIN, and my mum started perpetually crying AGAIN, mummy and I had to go and watch my brother in his school’s Christmas carol concert. And they sang this, and it made my mum cry. I think she’d been told that day that it was over, or she’d told us that day it was over, or something. And it was just horrible.
And then for years later, she always skipped it on our Christmas CD, or turned the radio off for that song. She said she couldn’t hear it again as it made her so sad. Which was a shame because I sort of like it in a melancholy way. Maybe because of all that?  I don’t know. And then when I had to sing it in my Christmas concert I think I lied and told her parents weren’t invited, or that all the tickets were gone so she wouldn’t come and have to hear it and feel sad. I told you I started taking care of her around this point, didn’t I...?
She can hear it now. She quite likes it now, which is a bit perverse, but she’s very much moved on and is a different person now.  Still gets me every time though.

Liberty X – Just a Little

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bItgfoBl4wE

For reasons unknown, we spent an ENTIRE YEAR singing this song in our final year of uni. All four of us had it stuck in our heads for the entire year, all through all 3 terms, all the holidays and right through finals. You’d walk down to the kitchen quietly murmuring to yourself:
“Sexyyyyyyyyyyyyy... Everything about you’s so sexyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy...”
then as you walked in, you’d find one of the others making dinner, singing:
“Just a little bit moooooooooooooooore.... gimme just a little bit moooooorrrrre!”
At a completely different point in the song.
It was amazing, but so amusing. And that became my uni song, just because it was so impossible to shift. It reminds me of the girls- we were such a happy little group.

KISS – Crazy Nights

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSb4tF1X368

I was going to choose Do Your Thang- the best song ever and our first dance at our wedding, but I can bet Simon will choose it too, and I want to avoid being twee.  Crazy Nights was a song I learned of relatively late in life. It was at the last ever Dynamite Boogaloo in fact- the end of an era, and all the amazing hosts, hostesses and DJs were dressed as KISS, doing crazy stunts and games and the usual stuff. And they closed, after years and years of amazing nights, and years and years of attendance from us with this song, and I thought- Fuck- they WERE crazy nights, weren’t they. It was the end of an era, and so sad, but so much fun and such an amazing way to go out. It was like you were part of a special little select gang, and you’d all shared in something wacky that most people didn’t know about and it felt so special. A sad night, but a happy memory...