As I walked around my apartment cleaning today I couldn’t help but think about the Lioness. Every time she came to visit she would clean my apartment from top to bottom. Was it dirty? No. Its a think in the Animal Kingdom that mummy’s do for their cubs. She enjoyed every minute of it as well. Not only the cleaning. The fridge would be full as would the freezer. Apparently I was in danger of malnutrition and dysentery that immediate action needed to be taken. I would come home from work and find a new rug or some new pillows. Her baby boy must have been incapable of fending for his own.

The thing about these little gestures though was less for me and more about her. Not that she was not thinking of me, she was completely acting selfless. She did gather so much joy from doing these little tasks. She lit up and loved that sense of help she was giving to her baby boy. I would come home and find the whole place rearranged. This used to wind me up.

“Right where have you put blank. I need blank now!”, I would say to her in a temper.

It used to wind me up and she knew this. We would have a brief exchange of words. Then I would open the vino look at her and say;

“I’m sorry”.

This little ritual would happen once per visit. It was part of our routine.

As I look around my apartment it is filled with memories of her. The fun times we shared and the joy she got from doing the odd jobs. Every morning before I go to work I see her pyjamas. She always left a pair here. Pink ones with sheep. I see them every day and probably will continue to see them everyday. I will not throw them out. I’m sure many people will advise me to do the contrary. It must be a lot healthier to cleanse the world of every trace of her. Not to be constantly reminded that she is gone. The thing is I love that I’m constantly reminded of her. As hard as it is at times I would have it not other way.

She lives on in these little pink sheep pyjamas. I look at them every night.

Then I go to sleep.

After a lovely weekend with my friends I am sitting on the sofa and smiling. We had a beautiful day at Chester Zoo followed by drinks. It was the kind of day that could be described as ‘perfect’. We laughed, we chatted, the sun was shining. All in all a gorgeous day out. The only thing that makes it less so is knowing I cant ring her up and tell her about it. She would love hearing about all the animals and the fun we had. She always encouraged me to enjoy life to the full and I for one believe I do. Someone reading this might think “you went to the Zoo, calm down!”. I think its all these little moments stitched together in a rich tapestry that make up life. She felt the same.

Out ritual conversations every evening were a big part of my life. They are gone now. I will never have another one. I should be feeling really sad right now however I’m not. I’m sat on the sofa, thinking of her. I’m smiling.

So I’m currently just on the way back from the zoo. What an amazing day with friends. Need to lie down now however we are currently on the way to a beer garden in Bolton. Update tomorrow xxx

Last seen Jack… I mean Glinda had graced the beautiful black tiles of my work. Glinda impressed everyone from the word go. He was fast, efficient and was willing the put in the extra hard work. Qualities I myself admire as I was never one to shy away from a good days graft. As the weeks came and went I found myself chatting a lot with Glinda. Finding out about who he was as a person, his degree, what he studied and whereabouts in the Big city of Belfast he hailed from. It was rather hard to tell obviously as he had that unmistaken East L.A twang. I guessed Beverly Hills. He was too upmarket for the Valleys. Its strange when you meet someone with you whom you share an instant rapport, however this was defiantly the case with our Glinda. Though as always the guard was ever present.

As we got chatting we both discussed our many nights of debauchery in canal street and decided we should  have a night out. How it came about is anyone’s guess? Next thing I knew I was in a taxi to levenshulme. Levenshulme for those who are unaware is a student area in Manchester. Every house has a recycling bin with only three items. Alcohol bottles, Cigarette buts and frozen pizza boxes. All the essentials for an inspiring professional studying at university. I knew this fact as my own bin at university had the same contents, I’m pretty sure this is explained in first year orientation just after the obligatory registration photo and before you receive you class schedule for the year. Their I was on my way in a taxi (uber was not even conceived at this stage), I was filled with nervous energy as I had made the ballsy decision to go to a house party filled with randoms. Definitely out of my comfort zone. I had asked Dazzles and DVC to come however what you need to know about the gays in their mid/late 20’s is that we get very comfortable. We don’t like making effort and meeting new people. Its kind of redundant at this stage. Or so we thought.

I arrived with my little bottle of something and wearing a two piece;

Two Piece; Definition: Usually an outfit donned by a homosexual man denoting the items he is wearing I.E a t-shirt and jeans, a shirt and shorts…. never a jacket as this does not show of the ‘I haven’t eat all day body’. Normally served with a biscuit.

Biscuit; Definition: Your ASS! Specifically with low-rise jeans and a visible boxer waistband.

I arrived at the house party greeted by Glinda. I was met by another Diva to enter my Life, ‘Queen LA’. So at this point I met QL in the hallway and was greeted by this sweet little girl with the strongest Californian accent I had ever heard. QL and Niall grew up together in East L.A. ….. I mean West Belfast. She had bright red hair, fair skin and a cheeky little smile that could light up a room. Full of mischief and a subtle hint of wisdom. Glinda was off for a moment topping up his bronze colour, I assume with natural sunlight. I was left with QL. We started to chat and immediately I felt at ease. She had a natural energy that was instantly calming. I could see why her and Glinda stayed close all these years. We headed out eventually and knowing us we danced all night in one of the homosexual dance halls. Usually Michael would find himself at some stage having an Irish exit. We found over the course of the weeks having many similar nights, having a blast each time. This proposed a problem.

How could I be friends with this guy, I’m his manager.

So that made it all the more easier for me to give him to someone else. It was a choice of being his friend or being his manager. It was an easy decision. I didn’t want that conflict of interest. Sometimes people come into our lives (a wicked reference right there!) and for whatever quirk of fate, destiny, random probability we know their is a reason behind it.

So in a nutshell the ‘family was complete’. Our little dysfunctional Manchester family has been together a lot of years now. We have spent Christmas’ together, Birthdays, nights out, all the fun times…. and the not so much.

Two nights before my mothers passing I knew it was coming, deep down I knew. I text one of the boys to tell them I think she was dying, they all appeared that evening in a show of support. We barely spoke about anything until DVC looked at me and said “hows things with your mum?”. I couldn’t speak, I skirted over the topic as I wasn’t really ready to deal with the emotional turmoil I was dealing with inside. My heart was breaking. Though the comfort I got from these people was amazing, I didn’t feel alone in this.

The night she passed I text them all to say the funeral was in 4 days. I let them know they were all welcome to attend however I would understand if they couldn’t. After all it was a long journey and getting time off work for a non-relative is a nightmare, I know this from experience. Within minutes I received a text.

We are all coming.

That is the importance of friendship and family. People that will go above and beyond for your wellbeing. That selfless act, the kindness. I cannot describe how my heart filled up with emotion after reading that message.

Mummy knew how important friendship was to me. She loved to hear about my escapades with the family and what crazy adventures we would be getting up to. I think she was so happy that I had found people in Manchester that I loved, and more importantly loved me. For me.

I count myself lucky to have the family, the ladies (more on them soon), the Uni girls (so much more to come from them too) and all my other friends in this world. Sometimes we feel alone in this process but I am reminded constantly that I am not and don’t have to be.

Now in the words of Rupaul Charles;

“Let the Music Play!”

So tonight I feel kind of sad and a little alone. I was lying on the sofa just thinking about how much I miss her. I had a little cry to myself and that made me feel a lot better. I’m not in the right headspace to continue writing about Glinda this evening. I want to do the diva justice of course.

Tonight I will have an early night and hopefully have some lovely dreams to cheer me up. Every now and then I have evenings like this and you suddenly stop and think to yourself;

She’s gone.

Everyday I miss her and just wish I could ring her up and tell her about my day, and hear about hers.

Having lived in Manchester for 3 years I was incredibly happy. Gone was the after taste from the experience of ‘the girl’. Myself, Dazzles, DVC and Rossotron were a tight nit group. The family was becoming like a Mafioso or a Columbian cartel. We did everything together and I started to enjoy the city I knew I loved. I started to enjoy everything. As mummy would always say “everything happens for a reason”, those words echoed through me and little did I know that fate had another instalment lined up for me. Another addition to the family.

At the time I was in a new job, it was exciting yet still daunting. Every new job comes with the excitement of a fresh challenge but also with the uncertainty of whether you can handle it. I had also fully furnished my new apartment after about 18months. To be truthful on the matter, Mummy had fully furnished my apartment. When I moved in all I had was a washing machine and fridge I bought straight away (you need clean clothes and food, unavoidable). That left me little bum room for anything else. My television was on sat on the box it came in. The living room had a beanbag. My bedroom had a blow-up mattress. It remained that way for at least 3 months. No one tells you all the furniture you have to buy when you own your own house. It didn’t help that I had always rented a fully furnished house so had nothing of my own. Fast forward 18 months and I was finally in a very comfortable place in my life, good friends, nicely furnished apartment and a great new job. It was all going along far too nicely right?

One day in work I received a Facebook message from an unknown recipient named ‘Glinda’, named so due to her good nature an mutual love of all things Wicked. Glinda messaged me asking me if she could transfer her job to Manchester. She had worked for the company before and actually worked with one of my line manager in Ireland. His mummy was also my sisters boss and would love to continue to work there as he had recently finished University. Ballsy right? I remember thinking ‘this bitch has some guts’. It so happened I did have a vacancy and thought, why not give him a change. If he isn’t up to scratch I can always turn him down. I told him to come into the shop and I would interview him. Behind the scenes I rang for references as I always like to be prepared. Anyone who knows me knows I never walk into a situation I’m not usually fully armed for. Probably the guard again however in a professional capacity it actually comes in handy.

The recruitment lady rang me up and I will never forget what she said to me;

“Their is a young gentleman here to be interviewed by yourself Michael…. and he’s really hot. If I was younger I totally would be in love with him.”

Ill be the judge of that I thought.

I walked up to meet him in our coffee shop. He was sat down however immediately got up to shake my hand. Great first move on Glinda’s part as I am a stickler for good manners, Mummy taught me well. Smartly dressed too, not too formal but he had a shirt and tie. The worst mistake in any interviews I’ve done is walking into a room and someone in a tracksuit is slouched on their seat…. Great first impression…. unfortunately all the positions have been filled! Glinda was tall, tanned (I would later find out it was ‘enhanced’) and had long pirates of the Caribbean Jack sparrow hair. He actually looked like a clean and sober Jack sparrow without the eyeliner. We casually chatted about what he did at university and how long he had worked for the company in Ireland. After a 15 minute chat I had made up my mind, it was time to give him a chance. Welcome aboard Jack…. I mean Glinda!

I remember thinking at the time that he had the funniest little laugh I had ever heard. It was kind of like if Super Mario and a parrot combined their DNA. It was rather endearing. He also had the most amazing Californian/Belfast twang of an accent I had ever heard. My fathers side of the family are all from Belfast so I grew up listening to the accent. Also My two Best Gal Pals at University were from Belfast. Mummy used to say when I came home from the weekend I sounded like I was from the Shankel road, I would always adopt accents rather accidently. This particular dialect of Belfastionian was neither south, east, west or north… well maybe East… East LA.

Mummy would grow to love that laugh, the accent and that boy like her own son.

But more on that tomorrow xo

Last seen Michael and Billy had said their goodbyes to their mummy’s and were away on the annual Ski trip. With us was our friend from school Lukas, a recent friend who we became frequented with due to sharing the same trip. So their was intended to be Myself, Billy and Lukas all sharing a room. We also had another addition. The P.E teacher Mr ‘Friendly’ also had invited his nephew.

Mr Friendly and myself had a strange relationship. It was strange due to the simple fact is I could never understand why he liked me. I was not the most athletic, I rarely participated in extra curricular sports. I was at one time the captain of the hockey team and played the odd game of badminton. The thing about Grammar schools is that these sports do not hold glory, the simple fact being they do not generate revenue for the school. All the glory was In Rugby. My father always said of Rugby; “Gentleman play football and thugs watch the sport, whereas Thugs play Rugby and Gentleman watch it”. Perhaps this was a self commentary on his own viewing choices as he considered himself a gentleman. I myself have zero opinion on this matter. They both seem rather silly to me. So needless to say I was not the star winger for the boys school. That being said I always had straight A’s for P.E and Games… how?  Quite often as a treat the boys would be allowed to play football (a non sanctioned sport) and myself and Billy would stand at goals lamenting on the fact we were forced into this ‘treat’.

It was to no ones surprise then that I was asked to share a room with my two friends and Mr friendlies nephew. Sometimes the star athlete has to take one for the team. So as we were boarding the bus we were introduced to ‘the nephew’. Looking back I feel really sorry for him. He didn’t know anyone, he wasn’t from our school and was forced into what probably would be one of the most awkward moments an adolescent would have to face. Adults don’t like these awkward social encounters however they are magnified far worse for an adolescent. As an adult we condition ourselves with experience on how to navigate them. We can seamlessly follow the routine flow of  ‘small talk’ conversations for hours if such an occasion requires. I could drivel on needlessly as an adult about anything when the necessity arises. The poor nephew had neither the experience nor the skill to do this. We just thought he was weird…. he was different… he was… not from our school! Poor guy didn’t have a chance.

By the time the Belfast to Lyon flight had started to make its decent, myself, Billy and Lukas had already decided that this poor nephew was in our way. We felt like we had been burdened with the thankless job of babysitting this poor dilatant. The poor boy must have been scared out of his mind. We unpacked into our 4 bedroom room. two bunkbeds, myself and the nephew on the bottom and Billy and Lukas on the top. We unpacked all our clothes and headed for dinner. The first night was always a bit of an orienteering exercise. An agenda for the week was set. Behaviour lectures dished out ‘you are an ambassador for the school’, and to set the tone Mr Friendly had his obligatory glass of vino. The next day we were up and ready for 7am. On the Piste by 8am.  As I was a more advanced skier I was separated from all the boys and into an unfamiliar group mostly full of people from a school in Southampton. Lunches in toe we headed to the first slope.

Over the years people have told me they prefer the morning snow. Its crisp, fresh and better all round for skiing. Afternoon snow is usually a lot more slush like in consistency and doesn’t make for a good ski. The first morning on the piste is like waking up to an old friend. The smell of the French Alps is quite amazing. Its like nothing else on this earth, and the views. Having 360 degrees of mountain top in incredible. A far cry from the Ballymena landscape this Irish boy was used to. The flow of the day followed a regular routine. We would meet for breakfast, usually a supply of French pastries. Ski in the morning, usually watching all the beginners have a crazy French women scream ‘SNOWPLOW!!!’ at the top of her lungs. We would engulf the baguette and juice lunch at the top of the mountain. More skiing. Evening meals and usually some free time in the late evening. The evening is where me and the boys would reconvene to chat to the girls from Southampton. Lukas would try to initiate some sort of kiss, and was usually successful. Whereas myself and Billy would experiment with blue hair gel that we thought was all the rage. This was at the height of Steps to be fair so we were rather impressionable to naughties culture. We haven’t reached the Gareth Gates phenomenon of hair gel yet however It will be discussed.

After spending the week exploring the French village, flirting with Southampton girls and a bit of light hazing of ‘the nephew’ we were all having the time of our young lives. We had discussed everything about our lives as much as young gentleman who attend a grammar school are comfortable discussing. After all, we were young gentleman and they possibly could never have daft things like emotions. That was reserved for the fairer sex. On the eve of our last night we were all lying in our bunks. It was late and anyone who has skied will tell you the energy required leaves you ready for bed. Add in hormones and growth spurts and these 4 boys were physically exhausted. Especially me as I needed a growth spurt. Like some sort of sick annual ritual I always lined up for the school photograph heard the usual bellow from the headmaster “Height order Gentleman, tallest to smallest please”. That was always my queue to walk straight to the back and sigh. At least I was always at the front I suppose.

As we lay in bed ready to depart for the sandman, Billy was unusually excitable that night. He always was a chatty sort however tonight it seemed to be teemed with a nervous energy. I remember him reaching over to Lukas and Myself saying, “I wanted to tell you guys something..”, I knew what was coming. I had often suspected it however he chose tonight as the night.. Under a hushed tone I heard the words I dare not speak

“I’m a Gay Man”.

Myself and Lukas paused, looked in awkwardness at each other.

“Ok cool.”

Of course we wanted details. We were bewildered by this news. Of course this news was neither shocking or really causing a major revelation however the timing seemed strange. We were 14 at the time. It seemed like a much more adult conversation than had preceded the week before. A lot more mature. A lot for 3 14 year olds (the nephew was excluded from the conversation)to really process. Incredibly brave.

His bravery was met with questions and some details emerged about having experiences with someone from our school. Someone popular.

That’s the thing, If it had been about someone far down the social ladder no one would really have blinked an eye. This news however upset the status quo. If their is one thing about high schools is, never upset the status quo. That simple little phrase and act of bravery from Billy would upset our world for two years. But more on that later.

My first night home, reunited with Mummy I started to tell her about the revelation of Billy. Her reaction as ever was so progressive;

“well son its lovely he has an understanding friend like you. I grew up with many gay friends”.

That was Mummy’s way of letting me know it was acceptable, and to her it really was.

In that moment I wanted to be brave too, but I wasn’t. Not yet.

OK as I am currently sipping a lemsip and have the energy of a newborn I am going to take a break from writing this evening. I will continue tomorrow but I need some rest tonight, I would write on but this story needs justice to be done to it and I wouldn’t be doing it any as I currently see 4 laptop screens.

Nighty night xx

Today I’ve been thinking a lot about timing. Timing can either be perfect, based on precision timing and executed just at the right time. Sometimes it can be bad, just missing that second or going too early. It can be the difference between wining and loosing. So we all think timing always has to be perfect. Sometimes with the clarity of time can we truly see that something timed so imperfectly can have a ripple effect and actually be indeed perfect (I’m pretty sure that’s a paradox or at the very least a heavy implication of irony).

Second year big boy school was filled with many highlights. At this  point I was academically comfortable. I had been sorted due to academic results and was in the top set for all my classes. Myself and Billy were in every class together with the exception of games. He had to play rugby with all the blue shirts and I was with the red shirts. The past year we had went from acquaintances so fast friends. Billy had a dark sense of humour that appealed to me. Their was also a raw sensitivity there that in later life would only surface occasionally, however always remained. Life would create a guard for Billy to wear too. Circumstances would force him to wear it like an armour. Everyday putting on a fresh guard like deodorant, it becomes part of your daily routine.

The notices went up around school for the annual ski trip. As I loved skiing I would sign myself up. Never really asking mummy how she would afford it. I never really thought about these things at the time but now I really appreciate she always let me experience everything in life. Billy too would want to attend. Last year I was the only 1st year to go. Yes it was scary being the only student from my year to go, however it was also liberating and showed an uncharacteristic bravery that would resurface occasionally. No one likes awkward social situations however being  prepubescent teenager really adds some spice in the pot. We would spend the next 4 months training in the gym. We did extra leg exercised to prepare of the physical strain. When I see we went to the gym for four months, like most adults we went for a week then never looked near it until 1 week before we were due to fly to the French Alps. It has always amazed me the people that get genuine joy from the gym, maybe I just don’t understand it? It is a lot of hard work and I never seem to get the release of endorphins that exercise enthusiasts promise will occur, Maybe my brain is broken.

We also had to rent our ski clothes. Last year I went with the whole gear from salopettes to ski jacket. This year I would forgo the jacket as I usually get far too warm. People always assume that due to the snow on the ground its freezing conditions. I usually get an amazing tan from skiing and wear little more than a long sleeve t-shirt in the afternoon. It would be a short sleeve one however anyone who has fell bare armed in the snow at 30 mph will tell you the reason not too. It hurts like hell!!! As much as everyone like to avoid falling it is unavoidable and a great part of the fun is falling on your ass every now and then. I then bought a nice little hat, ski googles (as I broke my other ones) and all the suncream/blocks from Boots. As previously stated when I say ‘I’ bought them… Mummy was the financer behind my little pre ski shopping spree. She was always happy to do it. Don’t get me wrong I was a little spoiled but she never let it get out of hand. I was renting my ski clothes after all. She knew boundaries. The week felt like an eternity to end and each day like a year. Time is funny in this regard. When we are waiting for something it feels like everything slows  down however when we are in the moment enjoying it, it speeds up and feels its over in a blink.

The morning of the trip was here. Mummy had packed my bag, ensured 20 times I had my passport and she drove me to meet the rest of the group at school. We would be heading to the airport on a bus. SHe hugged me and wished me farewell. I’m pretty sure she had a little tear in her eye as she never got used to saying goodbye to her son. We always used to say “we will be together soon”. I always felt content knowing that.

On the way to the airport myself and Billy would laugh and joke and generally ooze our excitement. Little did I know that the trip would change for our lives forever, and In the short term not in a good way.

To be continued.

I was on the tram today in my own world as usual. Playing Demi Lovato on Apple music preparing me for her concert later tonight, hence the uncharacteristic earliness of todays blog. I am deciding to write it now as I want to squeeze a cheeky snooze in before I head to the gig. I’m kind of grateful I’m not particularly high maintenance. Shower, shave and I’m done. Don’t get me wrong I do care about my appearance however I just cant see the point or find the time in spending hours in front of a mirror. This is me world, love it or leave it! OK I side-tracked as usual.

I was on the tram day dreaming away this morning as I’ve never been a morning person. I find mornings such a struggle and I resent those people who bounce out of bed and are ready to rugby tackle life. I need at least an ounce of caffeine and the same amount of nicotine just to be able to function. I was thinking how I have been writing this blog for two weeks now. Its been a funny little experience. I never thought I would have had this much to say however It has been the easiest thing to write in my life. I remember those painless nights at University struggling to reach that 1,500 word count. Those nights also involved copious amounts of caffeine and nicotine.

This experience has been different. I think it has probably been a two fold attack here; Mummy is the subject matter and I could probably fill two novels worth of material about what an incredible woman she was. The other is that the words are so therapeutic. Getting them down on the page seems to transport me into another world and my fingers become possessed. It makes me feel like I’m telling a story about and to her. I do wonder what she would think of this blog? She was a very private person and would probably scold me for making it so public, however I do believe she would get the reasons behind it. Would she find it a good read? Would she think its her crazy baby boy was being random as always? I have a feeling though she might enjoy it. She was my great cheerleader so I do believe she is reading along every night with a smile.

That or she is sitting next to my Aunty growing bright red with embarrassment.

Sitting on the tram takes you to places in the morning. The literal of course but also the metaphysical. The mind wanders into lands known and not. Today I think I went to her. It made me smile today. I liked it.