Professor Higgins (part one)

Peter O' Toole in pencil by me in 1985

He was Professor Higgins to my Eliza . . . He called me Eliza, among other things. Twiddlestick. Traitor. Sweetness. Gutter snipe. The Executioner . . . But mostly Eliza.

It's been an hour since I wrote that. So many are the memories that spanned our 20 years of knowing each other. I can't say 20 years of us "being together" because it wasn't always the case . . . Far from it . . . Six of those years I stayed in France after having ran away from him in Spain. Even during those 6 years I managed to pay him a couple of very surprise, but always very welcomed, visits whilst I was back in England on holiday. I couldn't stay away for ever.

I was 17 and had recently returned to the Midlands to be near my new boyfriend; a totally cool and hip silversmith who specialised in woodwind instrument repair and made beautiful jewellery. He, lets call him Silverhip, played the guitar well, cooked well and was a well-adjusted, educated young man of 21. He spoke well. I suppose looking back he was middle class . . . Yes he was. He is. And so very PC and organic way before PC was thought necessary.
His Father, who we'll call Brollyman, made his money hand-making "bespoke" umbrellas and was supplying Burberry's at the time, which was lost on me as I'd never heard of Burberry's. I was a savage. Fresh from the cave. One of the first few times I met with Brollyman, he asked me "Which of the seasons do you find most pleasing" . . . a perfectly reasonable question. I gave it some thought and struggled. Tried a bit harder . . . No. I really couldn't relate to the question . . . "Erm . . . I don't think they make any difference to me really" I couldn't see for the life of me why one season would be more pleasing than another. He thought I was plain ignorant, I probably was.
His father despised me . . . "A gutter snipe" he called me on one occasion. Something to do with me holding my knife incorrectly. How awfully British. Ha . . .  funny because I really was a "gutter snipe" to professor Higgins, yet he loved me. And didn't give a damn how I held my knife.

But they (Silverhip and his Father) didn't know about Professor Higgins . . . O they knew him. Who didn't. They lived in the same village as him. "Brolly man" who was the spit of  David Niven and spoke like Kenneth Williams had known Higgins's father; An extremely wealthy General, known for his diaries of  WW1 . . . They were a well known family. But no-one had any idea how well I knew Higgins. Not a clue . . . Not yet.

I'd taken a live-in job at the local hotel/bar/carvery in the same village. There was a Cabaret on a Saturday night. It was popular and buzzing but I was always the on-looker. Totally apart from the rest. I didn't get them and had no idea nor any care what they thought of me. I didn't have reason to talk to anyone much. I don't think I had anything to say really.

It was quiet . . . possibly a Monday lunch time, I was stirring and day-dreaming into, a bowl of waldorf salad to make it look fresher when The voice made me jump  . . ."Well . . . Hell . . .O! . . . I heard Richard Burton with the bass turned up . . . I looked up and saw a taller more swarthy and sinister version of Peter O'Toole . . . Like O'Toole meets Peter Cushing in a full length black fur coat . . . "O . . . I say . . . Now . . . Then! .  . . .
 I didn't hear any more of what he was saying. I was transfixed, magnetised . . . stuck.
And so was he . . . There was an instant massive connection, attraction, deja vu, . . . call it what you will. Le coup de foudre.

Before long, most afternoons as I finished work at 3pm, I was running off down the lane to the dark, dusty, forbidden "house" that was his home. It was his Mother's home too and there was no way she could know about me . . . That suited me fine. I had nothing to say.

So it was in through the "walled garden" gate, through another small door just inside the kitchen that led to a "secret staircase" inside the wall. Yes, in a narrow gap between the outer and an inner wall, there was a staircase with doors leading into cupboards on each floor. Higgins had his studio in part of the roof space . . .  a huge room where he wrote, painted, drank and tortured his own soul. Easels, Canvases, photographs, books, amazing clothes, theatre props . . . stuff everywhere. I never wanted to leave. There was red wine and cigarettes, I didn't smoke or drink in real life but this was different. This was not real life. Dory Previn sang to us. He was 47 . . . Almost as old as I am now. It was obvious to us both that our paths were meant to cross. He was charming, fascinating and intelligent. He was also an eccentric alcoholic with very little patience and some bizarre sexual tendencies. He could talk all day  . . . Which was just as well as I had nothing to say.

One winter's afternoon it was snowing heavily, he was at the carvery/bar chatting with the locals. A few of them liked him,  a few more of them tolerated him and his money . . . but most of them thought him a disgrace to the General's memory. A squanderer. Living in "The old house" with his Mother. Travelling the world as and when he pleased . . . Never having to work and constantly swirling a very large Brandy.
I finished my shift and instead of us walking down to his place we decided to use my room in the hotel for a change. It was tiny, just a single bed and a sink.

A couple of hours later we were pulled out of half-asleepness by a knock on my door . . . Strange . . .  It must be one of the other live-in staff. I put on my dressing gown and opened the door very slightly. Woah! No! It was Silverhip, otherwise known as my boyfriend. He worked in the city nearby but had come back to the village early due to the snow . . . and thought he would pop in and surprise me . . . O he surprised me!
"Hi . . . Aren't you going to ask me in?" His head was already in . . . there was no point shutting the rest out now . . .
"Oh . . Er . . yeah . . . OK . . ."
Seeing Higgins sat on my bed in nothing but his cravat, he said . . .
"Maybe my father was right" . . . Maybe he was. I had nothing to say. (to be continued)

I have only ever kept one photo of Higgins. A black and white A4 publicity shot from some theatre. It disappeared in France . . . I suspected my man at the time. Years later when we were back together I kept another copy of it . . . I looked for it tonight to accompany the post . . . Gone! 
So the nearest thing is a portrait I drew of Peter O'Toole whilst I was living in France. I probably did it at the time to "replace" the missing photo.

Three more Sleeps!!!

Ok  . . . I give up trying to put these photos where I want them. I used to do Desk Top Publishing for a printing company (17 yrs ago) on an Apple mac (the first one in town!) and you just pick the damn photo up and drag it where you want it . .  Not here you don't! 

Anyway not gonna be got down by that :-) Here's the first few of Criggy pics . .  I thought Barbara needed a laugh so here's my 6ft 5" brother in his dog's Santa outfit! Geekster wearing my "creation from a cracker"  hat that I made after a glass of wine. I used to need 2 bottles to feel it. . . . One glass now. And of course Bernie in his outfit :-) He's a lovely dog. I wasn't allowed to post the dinner picture with Stropster on  . . "I'm not having my face on your blog!!" Ok well he is 16 so I wont put that up.

 I'm not gonna edit or anything as I've heaps to get on with. I just popped by to catch up on the usual folk.

If you saw my brother 7 years ago . . well you just wouldn't believe it was the same man. There is hope. He was as bad a junkie as any I've known. Homeless most of the time. Mornings spent nicking stuff to make money to score etc etc. The usual. Often spending hours "asleep" in my bathroom with a needle hanging out his arm . . . Several prison sentences . . The last one of which he is eternally grateful  for. He is actually eternally grateful to God . . . I've asked him to put his testimony on You Tube for those who would like to hear it. For others who think its just God replacing Gear  . . . well that's ok too.  . . You don't have to watch it :-) Me (being me) can see it from both sides. I'm good like that. Ok I have to "shift it". I hate to post this in such a mess. No I really do . . It annoys me so bad that I cant arrange it how I want. Any tips on moving photos anyone? Why do they "snap" back to where they came from? I'm just gonna have to "get over it" and post it. I've 27 (?) hamsters to clean out, drug worker to see, more shopping in town to finish, the kitchen to clean and when I say clean I mean Clean! and my Chritsmas stash to resist! I didn't want to be texting "the man" every day over Crig and running out to meet him so I got some in. Now I have to stick to my "one a day". Hmmmmmm. Easily said. I can't afford to run out early so will have to "sort of" stick to it. Good job I'm a sensible user eh? Do those two words even look right together? No I thought not. O well I am. I am also putting off getting up and getting on . . .  Here goes. Huge Christmas love to you all . . . x x x

Good food



Geekster and Hamper G on the trampoline with a bag of soapy water. This went on for two hours then they came in, got dressed and ten minutes later  . . . Look where I found them!

 I can't believe this is only four months ago . . . Our camping holiday in Wales with my Brother (blue top) and his wife (red jumper). No that's not their names. Not exactly seasonal I know but as soon as I get my hands on Geekster and his camera I will have some Criggy photos to post. I keep saying I will put some up so here we are. If you were to stand facing the chair where the guitar is and look left . . . this is the view. I can't wait to get back there. One way of getting to the nearest town with beach is by mini steam train as below and ferry (!) above. . . Simple living. Gourmet barbeques, delicious. We put in an order with the local butcher in the morning then pick up various flavours of local lamb kebabs for the barbeque on the way back to base in the evening.

Ha Bloody Har :-). . . Do I look like I'm laughing? . . . Thought not. And if you think you're getting me in that wet suit you can think again!

This is our favourite coffee shop on holiday. Not sure why Hamper G needs two chairs or why Geekster turns into a weirdo when the camera is on him? . . . Strange kids :-/  Those Paninis and Cappuchinos are the best ever. We are slowly working our way through the menu. Their home-made cake selection has to be seen. Has to be tasted of course too. They have heaps of games there for kids to play and several laptops. When it's raining (quite often in Wales) you could just sit there all day eating . . . No wonder I put on weight there. Even with all the walking and running about on the beach. O happy hols.

This is a bit all over the place. The photos will not just stay where I put them. I must be doing something wrong . . . but I've no idea what?

I've got a day off tomorrow. Well when I say a day off I mean Hamper G is going with Geekster and his Dad ice skating. They are taking her to see Santa so I'm on my own but I still have loads to do . . . It could wait till Monday I suppose. O yeah we've got Christmas dinner at my Brother's house tomorrow evening as we don't eat with them on Christmas day. He's a good cook, taught by me, so that's something to look forward to . . . Not cooking yet guaranteed a perfect dinner . . .mmmm. I am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to cooking. Eating out in Britain is often a disappointment. Or should I say it used to be. (I'm not saying it's improved . . . I've just not been out for yonks)





Praying for a peaceful day for everyone tomorrow. I've just noticed it's past 2am. Ok I'll leave the photos where they are otherwise it will be 3am and I'll be no better off. I can see me having a lazy day tomorrow . . . well I do deserve one really. It's a rarity. Good night and sweet dreams to you good folk . . .  and you bad'uns ;-)

Ding-a-ling-a-ling . . . Santa's here!

Another busy day. Finished putting decorations up in the "Christmas room". I need Geekster to charge his phone (to use the camera) then I'll take a photo and post it here.
Hamper G was almost asleep tonight when Santa came in his sleigh. The reindeers were a white van. I usually know when he is coming and we wait up for him but I'd forgotten this year . . . I just heard the bells ringing and asked Hamper G to check out of the window. She was beside herself with excitement . . . Hoody straight on over PJ's, boots on and out the door . . .  eyes out-shining the Christmas lights. Sitting in the sleigh next to Santa looking up at him so seriously. Luckily Geekster's best friend (our neighbour) had his phone charged and took some photos.  One day I'll get a camera or phone with camera so I don't need to rely on others.

Prison visiting tomorrow . . . That will be exhausting but it's a must. LQ's brother is taking us which makes it all a lot easier and more enjoyable. I'll still be glad to get home though as I'm never relaxed in those places until it's time to leave.

I've given myself permission to accept me as I am until the new year . . .   Any effort to change is being put on hold until then. Should any changes occur without effort that's a bonus! Apart from weight gain of course which is almost guaranteed during two weeks of sheer piggery. Peer shiggery.

Oooops was asleep there with finger on the s. Good night. Sweet dreams