What is the greatest and worst thing about mothers? They will offer unsolicited help/advice even when you don’t think you need it. Mummy was no different in this regard. One of the biggest annoyances is when she came to visit she would ‘tidy up’. So just to clarify I do not live in squalor. I did however not meet mothers exacting high standards. To quote her, “everything should have a place.”. In principle I would totally agree with her. In actuality what she really meant was, “I want everything in my place”. She would rearrange everything to her own personal choice. I would often come home from work and my spare keys would have moved, the toaster in the wrong place or even one time the sofa had totally changed positions. I always let her crack on as I knew it gave her great delight to give me a rundown and what changes she made and why they were better than my own personal choices. This would never been an issue until I would go to look for something I desperately needed and she had flown home to Ireland. “Where the hell did she put BLANK?”, I would often murmur to myself. This little quirk would later cause me a great sense of joy.

Often as a group of friends the Manchester family often to certain degrees of success tries to organise every so often a group activity. This time I was having a BBQ. Not particularly an unusual activity in the height of summer apart from one glaring fact…. I have no garden. Not letting that get in the way I invited everyone round to my house of an indoor BBQ. The two vegetarians were coming round, Queen L.A and ‘Yenta’. I was incredibly pleased with myself as I bought some vegetarian sausages and burgers. The scene was set, the alcohol was there. All we needed to do was cook and eat. We eat, drank and did everything in a merry kind of fashion. Glinda in her wisdom declared we needed to go to the shop for a top-up of alcohol. In our haste we had polished off everything rather quickly. We headed up the road to the local shop 5 minutes away. We at this point were already rather giddy. As we purchased the alcohol Glinda noticed the Adult magazine section. He was giggling away to himself as he looked at the various ladies in various states of undress. He then pointed to one magazine which feature a more mature lady. The title of the magazine was granny porn. In our giddy state we thought it a terribly terrific idea to purchase said magazine and present it to Queen L.A. If you are thinking this is a very juvenile thing to do….. you are correct. We also thought it was hilarious.

When presented with the reading material Queen L.A looked up at us with a raised eyebrow and a stoic expression before the pretence collapsed and she fell into laughter. We all looked though the magazine and took turns reading the articles. It was all harmless fun and caused quite a bit of discussion amongst the family. The BBQ went on well into the evening and eventually everyone said their goodbyes. I tidied up the apartment and put the magazine under some letters and thought no more of it. I made sure the place was spick and span as the next morning mummy was flying over for one of her visits.

Mummy was very self sufficient. In a way she loved her independence. She would get the bus from the airport to the Trafford centre and then a connecting bus to Monton. I never once met her at the airport. Does that make me a bad son? To be honest usually I was working. I never took time off work when she came to visit. We always decided that I would use my holidays to fly home and we would get to see each other twice as much. It made sense logically however this year gone by, this summer to be precise was meant to be the year I took a week off and we would go travelling around England. We were supposed to visit all the places she wanted to see. We never got that chance I’m afraid to say. I guess the moral of that tale is don’t put off things until tomorrow. Even though her baby boy was working during her visits we always got loads of time together. I was working that day she landed and she was heading straight to the apartment. She had her own key and would always let herself in. Sometimes I would come home to a new laundry basket/towels/ironing board…. and one time randomly some cheese knives. She surprised me with, “here son I seen these cheese knives and thought I would get them for you”. Now I love cheese but I really had no need for specialised knives, maybe one day they will surprised me and come in handy. This time I was finishing early so she hadn’t had time to nip into Eccles to spend her money all round her. I was greeted with her ‘tidying the apartment’. She gave me a tight bear hug like always then once that had finished she would launch into a ‘what I should and shouldn’t do’, around the apartment. She would point to various things and tell me their proper place. I would sit their and pretend I was deeply interested, mean the while thinking I was tired after work and just wanted to stick on the telly and become a vegetated state. I would always keep up the pretence though as I loved it when her little eyes sparked with excitement.

The week passed and I was heading to work before her flight. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and bid her farewell. She would tear up and bear hug me as I left. Saying goodbye was never easy. I knew I would see her soon but sometimes that doesn’t really make it any easier. The apartment always has a nice mummy feel when she was around. Its hard to explain and nothing really was drastically different. It just felt like a mummy was there. Her presence would emanate through everything. Even the smells were different. She would spray some perfume and make the place feel all that much more like home. I used to be comforted by seeing her pyjamas drying on the radiator as the place would feel that much more safe because of those silly sheep pyjamas. As I walked to work I thought about all the fun chats we had and how I was going to miss her. I then started to think about the BBQ and……………. Wait! Where the hell was the Granny Porn??? I had completely forgot it was still in the apartment. My shift felt like forever that day and I rushed home to discover where the hell that magazine was. Not because I was eager to read up on knitting tips and how to start a naked allotment…. no I wanted to see where it was as I was mortified at the chance mummy would have see it, what would she think? Would she think his son was into some bizarre fetish???

I found the magazine in the bottom drawer, along with other things mummy had tidied away. It was the first thing you could see when you opened the drawer. She had to have seen it when she put it in there. She never once mentioned it. I never mentioned it. To this day I have no idea what she must of thought. I wish I had brought it up with her as she would actually of had a good giggle at Glinda’s humorous prank. I do not know for certain but the great thing about my mummy is she probably took one look at it and thought, “those boys are not wise”. She would of seen the funny side straight away. Who knows she may have read some of the articles on starting a naked allotment. As you can gather my mum had a cracking sense of humour and she never took things too seriously. I am still curious about what she must of thought? I think if I could ask her one question today. It would be that.

The great thing is though, as I write this. I have the biggest smile on my face.

till next time xx

One of my darling friends Fagbutt is celebrating her darling sons second birthday this week. I still cannot believe it when I think about it. When did those two kids at University grow up? I have been to her hen party, her wedding and met her beautiful son however somehow it still seems like we are the pair at university who always got ourselves into all sorts of shenanigans. Life can go by in a blink and it seems altogether strange we have managed to make it as fully functioning adults. How did this happen?

When myself and Fagbutt met we were both fresh 18 year olds trying to navigate our way through university. It was about a month in whenever we first became acquainted. I was drew to Tink first as she was flamboyantly fabulous. She was something from a Broadway musical brought to life. The three of us would always joke that Tink, if she were born a man, would have been an outrageously camp gay man. She drew me in with her sense of optimism, camp sensibility and love for all things theatrical (she introduced me to Chicago which I am eternally grateful). Fagbutt was slightly different. She was a little more reserved. She always had a ‘cool’ girl factor, a demeanour of not giving two shits most of the time. Never one to follow the crowd, she would always command what she intended to do. Not that she ordered us around, the option was always there not to do what she wanted to do, however she would of carried on regardless. She was a lot more savvy to the ways of the world and quite frankly that is exactly what myself and Tink needed.

We would all sit together in our Media Studies class from the first night we met. Of everyone we were friends with it was only the three of us in that particular class. The girls also did English as part of their degree and I decided to be random in my first year and take philosophy. Of the 3 classes a week we shared we would usually have the routine of waking up…. usually a little worse for ware. We would meet at the students union, have lunch and then start our class around 1pm. We had the luxury that most of our classes were in the afternoon except the one myself and Fagbutt had on a Friday morning which we never attended. We had part time jobs at home so we used our own priority schedule. The class involved statistics and research methods that we both felt would not aid our own education whatsoever. To be honest it really didn’t. It was to help with our dissertations however I did not do any sampling, data research and it turned out ok. So one class in particular we were all talking over the lecturer. They were usually far enough away that our voices were very faint. I was saying to the girls that I had never seen a vagina before and didn’t really understand them. Yes possibly the most random topic but sometimes these little thoughts pop into my head and my verbal vomit takes over. I do not know how the study of Walt Disney and Animation led me to this thought process. Perhaps I was wondering if the dwarves were taking a peak at Snow White while she was sleeping? Regardless of the source my two pals instead of showing judgement would comply to my unusual question. Fagbutt started to draw a very anatomically correct diagram of a ladies undercarriage. She then annotated it with all the different functions. They could instantly tell I looked more confused than when we started down this rabbit hole. “They’re so complicated”, I dimly muttered. We then closed the notebook with the lady drawing and proceeded to pay attention to our education.

Nights out at Uni were a ritual for our threesome. They did not simply involve turning up. The preparation for a night out was relentless. Firstly an appropriate outfit had to be purchased. The wardrobe full of clothes was never adequate. One could never been seen in the same outfit. Then the alcohol run would take place. Fagbutt would usually drive us to the local off licence where we would purchase one bottle of absinthe and one bottle of WKD to wash it down with. This was strategic on our part as it was cheap and we would feel the full affects of the alcohol on a budget. We would scrape together some basic food then the getting ready part would commence. This was nothing I had experienced in my life before. I would shower, shave and do my hair… I then had to wait the extra 1 hour and 45 minutes for the girls to finish their routine. I would generally walk between Tink and Fagbutt’s room checking on their progress. I would often walk into a topless Tink who would request, “would you tan my back?”. I had never seen as many boobs in my life until university. I became so desensitised to them that even now I look at them like they are elbows. I would then go to Fagbutt’s room and we would smoke 20 cigarettes gossiping about the days events and who was seeing who. Usually we would have some random TV show on in the background like the simple life or Dawson’s Creek. We used to watch Mean Girls religiously before we went out however we realised that we emulated the characters too much and even Tink became a wild Regina George type, we had to cut her off. This lovely girl next door type would become Rosemary’s Baby after watching Mean Girls and downing a bottle of Absinthe. They Green fairy turned her into the red fairy.

Although I was always first ready and hanging about for a few hours (I would learn to not rush getting ready), I would always enjoy this time with my two favourite gals. It was a chance for us to bond and solve all of life’s problems in an evening. Within those bedrooms we solved all problems. If a problem couldn’t be solved Fagbutt would usually declare, “I will sort it!”. Most times she was true to her word. None more so than the one evening we headed out. The evening in question started like any other normal night. Same routine, different outfits, same drunken laughter. I was at the time tentatively seeing this guy. When I say seeing I think we hooked up a couple of times but to me that meant we were in a relationship. I sometimes cringe looking back at how naïve I was. University made me grow up however it was a long journey to get there. It was a Monday night so we headed to the students union. We had established a big group however us three would always be together. The night in the union started like any other, we danced, ordered drinks and chatted to random. I then caught out of my eye the guy I had been ‘dating’. I went to say hi and be as flirtatious as I possibly could be at 18 from a small town. Without warning he looked at me laughed and threw a drink all over me. I was taken aback and in shock. What had just happened? Why had he done this?

Before another beat I caught Fagbutt taking off her shoe. Her face went dead poker straight. She marched over to the guy, raised her eyebrow and without hesitation smacked him square in the face with her stiletto heel.

“Not so funny now, is it?”, she shouted at him. Before we knew what was happening Fagbutt was escorted out of the building and barred for a few weeks. Myself and Tink followed her out.

The most amazing thing about Fagbutt is that she didn’t even know what was happening. For all she knew is that I had started a fight (apparently he threw the drink at me cause he was really drunk…….). She did not need a reason why, all she knew is that some dick had tried to humiliate her friend. That was the day I started to see her as a close friend, family. She was always like that and I have a few more tales about our misadventures (their were lots). I love this story. She didn’t need a reason to jump in to defend my honour, it was almost instinctual. That is the reason I hold her in such high regard in my life. I love sharing all her memories with her. Her Hen party (that one will be a great tale), he wedding and everything since. She came to visit me recently in Manchester and mummy had only passed a short while. It was great seeing that cheeky grin. We both had grown up a lot however when we both look at each other their is a devilish grin between us. We both know what we are capable of.

She will always be the friend I never knew I needed. I love her.

Sometimes a rest is needed in the most unexpected ways. Before I had my little trip to the sunny shores of Spain I was starting to feel very run down. I was irritable, quick to temper and also rather emotional most of the time. Things that would normally have little impact on me were becoming rather unmanageable. Dealing with grief has all the expected side effects like sorrow and sadness. It also has many not so typical like fatigue and stress. I have always been someone who likes to control everything around me. Think Monica from friends. I am very much a Type A personality most of the time. I like to plan, manage and organise my entire life to fit into a nice little neat package that is perfect In every way. The unexpected loss of mummy had a rather unique effect of my world. Aside from the obvious all the control was taken out of my world. When I knew her diagnosis I went into crisis mode and started to plan treatments/ alternative treatments and was really spiralling out of control, something I found very difficult to cope with. The thing about an unexpected loss is that I felt completely helpless. I couldn’t control or manage this situation. To call it a situation is probably inappropriate however that is how I was trying to compartmentalise it within my brain. I am used to putting everything in a little box that has labels and subheadings. Death does not fall so easily into these little boxes.

As I excited the plane in Alicante airport I was feeling stressed. I am not the best flyer in the world by any means and having the worlds worst stag party on board did not aid my agitation. Someone yelling, “lets do coke in the toilets lads when the captain turns the seatbelt sign off”, was not my idea of the ideal flight. As I queued for the bus to Benidorm I could feel my frustration levels building. I am not the best traveller. I like to get to my apartment., unpack, then I know the holiday can begin. As we arrived in Benidorm bus station we had arranged to meet Billy who had arrived two days prior. Myself and Dazzles were keen to get to the apartment and drop off our luggage. I briefly greeted Billy who I am sure could sense my stress levels as I was never one to be able to disguise my emotions. We had a beer while waiting for the keys however I couldn’t concentrate on the conversation. Billy was telling us about his first two days and to be honest I was thinking more about getting to the apartment which at this point I still wasn’t precisely sure where it was located. With keys in hand and Google maps on we marched down to the beachfront with our little cases in tow.

As we worked out the 12 keys we had been given and navigated the multiple entrances, our eyes lit up as we stepped into the spacious palace that we would call home for the next three days. I quickly showered, sent Billy for some beers and started to unwind. The stress that had built up over the journey… and everything up to that point really from my mummy’s death was beginning to wash away. As I stared at the beautiful blue ocean I felt a sudden wave of calm flow over me. I could relax and let the trip take me over. I spent the next 7 days going with the flow of our trip. It was fantastic. I could just relax and feel no pressure of having to make decisions or be a responsible adult. I could have fun and let the sunny weather take care of the rest.

Their are many amazing stories from this trip that will be covered in due course however this blog is more about my state of mind from that trip. I cant explain it but something just clicked within me from being away. Gone is the worry and anxiety. The pressure of having to be ‘ok’. I know now that I don’t always have to be ‘ok’, I don’t have to keep up appearances. The irony here is I feel more ‘ok’ than I have felt in a long time. I actually feel excited about the future. I know I still have a long road to go and that their will be moments that will be incredibly tough (Christmas will be one such), however I feel stronger than I have done. I feel a new lease of life and I hope that it is not a temporary euphoria of holiday joy. Anyone reading this who is experiencing grief I would urge you to book yourself a trip. Preferably with people you trust. I went away with 4 of the best people in my life. They asked nothing from me and to put it simply, let me be me! I felt no pressure around them and could just feel how I wanted to feel.

One day myself and Dazzles ventured to the beach to ‘bake’ as we put it. The sea was gorgeous and the weather was beautiful. As we sat on our towels with one Bacardi breezer each (retro), I started to talk about how this felt really strange as I normally on holiday would be ringing mummy everyday. I sat their and the tears began to trickle down my cheeks. I felt very foolish as I didn’t want this trip to be about my stuff at all. Dazzles gave me a little hug and comforted me. That was the last and only time that I cried or felt like crying on that trip. It was something I was feeling worried about as I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Once I did it I felt immensely better for it. A weight had been lifted. That is when I really properly started to enjoy my time away. It was like a right of passage I had to do to continue on. It sounds strange but I felt her in that moment. I could feel her there, with us. Smiling.

Unfortunately the summer has officially ended now and the autumn season is with us. The leaves are falling and turning brown. I feel I have entered a new season now and am rather excited to see what it will bring.

Night night xx

So having come back from my Jollies all refreshed and relaxed I am in the best form the write into my little blog. My adventures of Sunny Benidorm will no doubt make for some interesting writing however I have some unfinished business to attend to regarding the illustrious Mr Toad. Before that however I would like to take the opportunity to thank my friends for writing their entries. It was a joy to read them and really inspired me to keep going on my little writing adventure. It also gave me some much needed rest as it is quite the task to log all these entries while juggling a 40+ hour job and social commitments. The people who say you can do it all have obviously never committed to documenting their lives in a blog for 365 days now have they? Granted some have children and what not however I am not one of them people so I couldn’t possible comment…. nor would I dare…. my friends who have tiddlywinks would kill me.

As I sat in the principals office getting reprimanded for something I was oblivious too my mind couldn’t help but wander the illustrious Mr Toad. Over the short weeks we had chatted online, I really thought I had a confidente, someone I could share details of my life I was at the time too scared to even speak out loud. Quite a big deal when you think about it. Like my favourite book the Count of Monte Christo, I could relate to Edmond Dantes. I felt the sting of betrayal and I didn’t like it one bit. As I was being berated for being such a horrible deputy head and person in general the principal brought up the one topic that is always off limits. The very inspiration of this blog… My mother.

“Your mother must be very reckless to let a teenage boy attend a nightclub during the week, her parenting has a lot to be desired”. The steam rose from my ears like a kettle. I was not amused. How dare he presume to even know my mother, how she raised me as a single parent. Showered me with love and affection. Sacrificed everything. For him to take all that away with such a flippant remark was unforgivable and to be honest in incredibly bad taste. As I left the office dumbstruck and a little broken I rang the lioness straight away. I needed to vent to the one person who would understand my feelings. As usual she would fact check everything and get the full details, “Are you sure you were not informed of the prize giving evening?”. If anything my mother was always good at performing her own due diligence as she would never leap in without at least first checking her facts. I admired this about her. I was definitely a lot more reactionary. Mummy would process all the information available before deciding on the correct course of action.

Immediately she asked to make an appointment with the headmaster. Within 5 minutes of hanging up from mummy I was asked back into the principals office. He quizzed me on the reason for my mothers appointment. I told him I was not sure however I suspected that it had something to do with his casual comments on my mothers parenting abilities. “You told her!?!?!”. Yes of course Mr Principal. My mother and I have no secrets (apart from the biggest one however more on that in due course). For the first time I seen this pretentious little man with a love of power seemingly fall into his seat and a drop of sweat dripping off his brow. He was nervous. He had every right to be.

That afternoon my mother walked out of his office with a look that only a mother can have when she has a moral superiority. Like Winston Churchill announcing the victory of the allied forces against Germany, she strode to the car with a smug look of victory. I quizzed her on the conversation and she gave very little away. What she did say though was that the Principal had agreed with her (I doubt their was any choice on his part), that any future meetings with her son would always include herself as a parent. She also said he would be apologising for his comments he made about his mother……

And he did.

With one battle one I was on to the next. I was still fuming from the betrayal of Mr Toad. Every time he seen me he would squirm away and I could never get close enough to directly confront him. I don’t think he wanted that as I held the one secret in the world he never wanted anyone to know. Granted he knew mine too however after my little kiss in the nightclub a few weeks proper I was not naïve enough to believe my secret would remain as such for very much longer. Every time I would approach him, he would dart from across the room and make excuses to leave. The whole thing was making my blood boil. I have always been rather direct and much prefer a direct confrontation as opposed to side swipes and intrigue (that’s not to say that when push comes to shove I would be adverse to it either!). I had to put the little toad to the back of my mind though as it was nearing the time of the most anticipated day of our school careers. The formal.

All the planning had taken a few months. Venues were booked. Venues were cancelled. It got the morning of the big day and me and the ladies went to the hotel and decorated everything. It actually turned out pretty spectacular for never having done this before. We hired one of those helium canisters and filled the room with balloons and sprinkled the tables with stars and confetti. We had also planned the entertainment. Every school tradition in our town had one thing in common. Awards. People would receive awards for varying things like “prettiest girl”, “Best couple”, “Most athletic”… bla bla bla. We however decided to flip the awards on its head and do what we considered funny awards. One couple would receive the award for “Smirnoff Ice, as clear as your conscience award”. The couple had recently split from their respective partners and coupled up. The idea was to have funny awards with a little bit of social commentary. Billy himself received the “Lord of the Rings” award, which in hindsight is rather disgusting however he loved it actually. I seen this as an excellent way to express my feelings and exact my revenge on Mr Toad. He would get the award for “The lion, the witch and the wardrobe, in the Narnia Closet” Award. Ok so looking back that was pretty mean but I was 17/18 and was really pissed off. I’m not making excuses however it all should be taken into perspective.

That night we all decided to meet at mine. My mummy had bought me an orchard corsage for Lexxie (we decided to go as friends). She arrived in a beautiful red dress and a half up-do hair style. My mummy took one look at her and me and nearly burst into tears right on the spot. We posed for all the obligatory formal pictures, first as a couple then as a group. As we said our goodbyes I will never forget mummies face as we left the house. She looked so proud and so happy. I would see that face a lot from her as she was always so happy for me. She lived for these monumental moments as she would see them. As we climbed into our limo and headed 15 minutes up the road (yeah it was a small town), we opened the complimentary champagne and pretended we liked it. In this limo was myself, lexxie, big girl, ringer and lady Jayne, Terrapin and the respective dates. The others in our group would go in a different limo. The hotel provided on for free and we pulled names out of a hat to see who would get it. They were so smug when they won, Billy in particular. Until it turned up of course. It was a dusty old banger from days gone by. It was awful. When our group seen it we couldn’t help but return the smugness.

The evening progressed rather nicely. We had a meet and greet. Photographs with everyone then we were ushered to our seats for the meal. The meal went in a flash and we were all at the one table which was the most important thing. Billy decided to be flash and order a bottle of sparkling wine. Lexxie looked at me deadpan and said, “where’s my wine???”. Being me I complied and ordered a bottle for her and myself. We polished that off just in time for the awards. It was myself and Billy’s Date ‘Nelson’ who were the hosts of this occasion. As I got on stage I could tell I was already a little tiddly. I asked the first table nearest the stage for a lighter to light my cigarette (yes you could still smoke indoors) and they looked up blank at me…. it was the Christian table so I kind of felt a little bad. Someone threw me one and we got on our way. We had a hallway point after doing the awards in which we could refill our drinks. I think it was going down well as everyone was laughing and me and Nelsons back and forth.

At this mid-point Toad approached me. He had got wind (and the willows he he) of his award he would be receiving. He looked at me dead pan and pleaded me not to give him his award. In that moment I could have went down two roads. I could of went with my head or my heart.

My heart won.

I got on stage and continued the awards, not before throwing Toads in the bin. As angry as I was I still liked to think of myself as a decent human being. Also I didn’t want to do what he so easily did, betray a friend. I think deep down I knew I would never go through with it. I mean I wouldn’t want someone to do that to me and be so callous.

It didn’t hurt to make him sweat though.

I think the real justice was him knowing that I  could of but I didn’t. He has to live with how mean he was. Thankfully my moral compass was fine-tuned that evening.

The night carried on and we all danced the night away. It really was a magical night. Billy and the local homophobe ‘Calcium’ were crowned prom king and Queen (billy being the queen). He approached me after and asked why the hell would I set him up like that (the homophobe not billy). He thought I had orchestrated the whole thing. Actually it was rather funny but alas I couldn’t take credit as myself and Lady Jayne were canvassing for our own nominations. Sadly we came second however I think the right result sent out a perfect message  from the school. Calcium was not best pleased. A fitting end to a horrible story ….. wait I haven’t even told his story yet….. Their I go again with my disjointed narrative. Well we will definitely be revisiting him in the near future.

My fondest memories of that night are not the near revenge against Mr Toad, nor Calcium getting his just-desserts. It was spending it with my friends who I adored. It was a magical night. I would tell the story over and over with mummy on the phone and she always said she felt like she was there, the way I could vividly describe it…. Even after a few glasses of cheap sparkling wine.

So that’s that tale done and dusted. Now I am feeling refreshed and relaxed I can feel I have the energy for lots more now.

Night night everyone xxx

I got out of the taxi and took a big deep breath and had that feeling in my gut which was a combination of nerves and excitement with a splash of fear and a sprinkle of “be on your best behaviour Niall.”

‘ Just a lost boy from Neverland’

One of my first memories of Michael was during our first semester of Uni; stumbling across one another in the greatly anticipated Monday night Students union night. This was the place to be and to be seen. There he was; a Ballymena boy (obviously a thing I have drawn to seeing as I am currently married to one), a diva, an out and out bitch. Dancing like Sasha Fierce on stage, white sweat bands around his wrists, boot cut Diesel jeans and a pastel coloured t-shirt. There I was; white stilettos, ra-ra skirt and a boob tube, tango tan, seeking out a bitch of equal worth.

We were like moths to the same flame. To be honest, I think our first encounter was probably not a friendly welcome, but I think subconsciously we quickly recognised we were two peas in the same pod and together we could take over the university clubbing scene. Upon reflection I would say everyone knew us at University, we would have a friendly reception on entering our usual hangouts. The Sync (Kelly’s night clubs R&B section), the Students Union café, the one shop in Coleraine that sold half decent clothes and of course the odd media studies class that we attended. Upon reflection I would also say that most people secretly hates us. I say secretly as if we were unaware of this, said person would have had a drink in their face or their hair yanked to the floor (Michaels signature move) Together we were dangerous and we knew this, but we loved It and we loved the power! Thankfully we had Tinkerbell who was able to tame us (occasionally).

Honestly it was like a match made in heaven, we hated the same people, had the same objectives in life (drink absinthe, dance like a slut, don’t attend classes before 1pm). Our friendship blossomed from our first encounter on that students union dance floor to a deep understanding a d appreciation for each other over the course of three years that we lived together. I was always the girl who had a gay best friend, through many work placements etc. I loved gay men because of the superficial things that attracted me to Michael in the first place. However my friendship with Michael became so much more than the gay best friend/ fag hag surface level friendship that I had anticipated. Michael was all of those things that I mentioned in the beginning but he was also so much more. I first realised this when I learn of Michaels relationship with his mum. To Michael, University was a different world from Ballymena, even though it was a short distance away. Uni was a place Michael could be who he wanted to be without having to look over his shoulder or be judged by people from his hometown.

However as much as he enjoyed his time to totally be himself, he also deeply missed the one and only other place he could truly be himself. His family home. Tinkerbell and I quickly realised that Michael could take himself off to his family home where he could retire from the partying scene for a maximum of 48 hours. During this time he would not answer the phone or be the university Michael that we knew. We never did ask him what he did in those 48 hours because we secretly knew. We knew the real Michael by this stage, we knew about the deep friendship between mother and son and we knew that he needed to recharge his batteries in order to continue.

The only way he could do that was being with his Mum. I believe by not really doing anything other than being together, chatting about what had happened that week and by spending quality time together. It was this action that really showed me who Michael was, he was caring, deep, appreciative, loyal and family orientated. This was the person that I am thankful to call my friend.

STAIRCASE TO HEAVEN

Hi, Lady Jayne here! As I write this it has just hit me that Miguel and I have now been friends for nearly two decades, well in that time I can definitely say we were known for different things which made us quite the duo –

1. Random phrases and the weirdest sense of humour (‘hi ho silver!’ for example became a word we would shout whilst throwing our beloved friends’ possessions across the sixth form centre (proper little delights weren’t we!)

2. Pool times. These times were among some of my very favourite. Miguel, myself, Lady Velvet and Big Girl made this our weekly ritual for well over a year. Lady Velvet and Big Girl would make like most normal 17/18 year olds and go into the big pool to swim lengths in a calm and sophisticated manner before slinking into the jacuzzi to end their visit. Miguel and I however, well we had our own let’s say ‘unique’ routine. We would start off by more or less monopolising the jacuzzi (I mean we left room for others, but as anyone who knows Miguel and I can imagine, people would walk towards the jacuzzi hear our voices – usually midway through an impromptu rendition of a Disney classic  and practically dive à la Tom Daly into the nearest pool to escape from us!). We would then head to the toadstool or ‘waterfall’ as we preferred to call it and pretend to be in a JLo music video with said ‘waterfall’ crashing over our heads singing ‘Ain’t it Funny’ and ‘Jenny from the Block’ (whilst probably looking more like extras from the programme Benidorm than the naughties queen of pop herself). After a while we would decide to grace Lady Velvet and Big Girl with our glorious presence in the big pool and demand that we all sang the Baywatch theme tune whilst racing each other across the pool, which usually ended up in one of us, as you do, swallowing water and half choking.

3.  Perhaps this is the thing that Miguel and I were best known for, much to the annoyance of our poor long suffering friends – ahh yes the Miguel and Lady Jayne all nighter! Our friends each had their own unique bedtime routines after a night out all mostly involving food from questionable vendors with even more questionable hygiene standards a small chat and off to sleep. Miguel and I however, would roll into the room and by the hour become more and more hyper and giddy. It was our thing and we loved it. Big Girl’s duvet could usually be seen moving as she giggled along to our jokes yet didn’t want to encourage us to stay awake for even longer, Dinger would stay up the longest joining in before eventually falling asleep, Terrapin would be oblivious as she seemed to have an uncanny ability to fall comatose within around 5 seconds and Lady Velvet would try to say we wouldn’t get a lift home if we didn’t calm down (but alas she loved us so we knew we would be in her car the next day headed home listening to Scooter and merrily eating from one of the many haribo packets which lined her car like delicious edible air fresheners).

It is just that, our night time antics which reminds me of one particular night at Miguel’s house. As usual Miguel and I followed our end of night routine, which consisted of going to the chinese takeaway, getting our honey chilli chicken with noodles and heading back to Miguel’s house. What usually started as two friends sharing a chinese in Miguel’s living room more than often transcended into something akin to a scene from a David Attenborough documentary as we poked each other with forks for daring to cross the invisible half way line towards the other person’s chicken. This particular night we headed up to bed at around 2am and continued to laugh and talk into the night. Miguel’s mum, who was always so welcoming and patient despite two teenagers making a small racket in her house, began to walk towards Miguel’s bedroom. Sensing this may have been to tell us to keep quiet, as we heard her open the door, Miguel and I, without any prior discussion both appeared to have the same plan – we flopped down on to the bed, lulled our heads over to the side and pretended to be asleep (with snoring sound effects for realism included). Jennifer, upon seeing this, burst out in a fit of giggles and in a soft voice said to us “I know you two are awake I just heard you”. Miguel and I continued our façade as his mum chuckled and said “Goodnight you two, now go to sleep” and went back to bed. That was the thing about Miguel’s mum, she was always laughing and friendly. Even with us awake until all hours we would drag ourselves out of bed and go downstairs the next morning and be greeted by a big smile and the question “Well, how was your evening?”, Jennifer was truly interested in how her beloved son’s night had gone, every detail and all the silly stories he had to share, her face would just light up as he spoke.

I remember when I found out the news that Miguel’s mum had passed away, nearly everyone commented on how close they were and that they were like best friends. The thing about this is it’s something which was always so beautifully obvious, even in our teenage years. Whilst most teenagers reserved their weekends for friends, chasing boys and nights out Miguel would often say “Sorry not tonight guys, I’m sitting in with mummy” – they just adored spending time together. I remember we would often bound into Miguel’s house, greeted by a big smile, a warm “Hello Dory” and the common sight of Miguel and his mum, glass of wine in hand, commentating on reality shows in true Terry Wogan style laughing away. Miguel often writes about his mum as a proud lioness and that she definitely was, yet what we could also see was a little lion all grown up who was, as his mum was to him, her number one fan and biggest protector. How truly special their bond was.

Thinking of night time and Jennifer laughing as she watched Miguel ‘sleep’ that night I can’t help but think of all the moments she watched him sleeping as a Mum wondering what he would become and hoping all of his dreams would come true. And yet I get the feeling from the very first time she did she already knew she was holding her best friend, her confident and her greatest joy.

We all agreed to meet early the next morning and travel together.
Within a short few days we had booked flights, arranged for transport upon arrival & most importantly, we had been comforting our dear friend Michael. We were unfortunately travelling too Ballymena to attend the funeral of Michael’s beloved mummy Jennifer, who had been taken away from us in such a short space of time.

Myself, Darren & Niall landed at Belfast airport on that wet & windy Tuesday morning, feeling both anxious of the day ahead and sad for our friend and his family. We barely spoke much for the entire trip and when we did we spoke of our concern for Michael, and how we just wanted to give him a hug.

The one comment that was made however was that we looked like some sort of gay version of the Matrix, dressed in all black, wearing almost matching “leather” jackets. We knew Michael would notice this and that it would put a little smile on his face – which it certainly did!!

The ceremony went by in the blink of an eye. I stared at a photograph of Jennifer for the entire service. I felt sad, and angry but most of all I felt proud. Proud that my friend had the strenght to stand up in front of everyone and say such lovely things about his mummy.

Throughout the day, we ( being typically Irish ) ate, drank and met various friends and family of Jennifers. It was through these stories that I felt I really got to know Jennifer. Of course Michael had always spoken so highly of his mummy but I only had the pleasure of meeting the lady herself once.

The stories I heard showed me just how much Jennifer was loved by so many people. It showed me how she was a very well respected member of the community. Her friends shared stories with us of nights out together over the years, how they would have a few drinks, a laugh and of course a good gossip!

Jennifer was a loving, kind & generous woman, traits which she has passed on to her own children and this is why she will always be around us.

A sad day in so many ways, yet I felt a slight warmth inside getting to know the real Jennifer.

You will never be forgotten Jennifer.

Ps. Thank you for raising such a fabulous son, who has become apart of my own Manchester family.

Rest In Peace.