Iāve had a weird life . . Riddled with chaos and confusion, hard lessons and consequences.
I only have a few memories of my childhood, drawing with chalk on the driveway, playing on the stairs and squabbling with my brother. Sitting on a patterned sofa in pants with slatherings of chocolate mouse across my small happy mouth.
Mum and dad worked really hard but I never remember feeling like they where never around, I was a normal happy kid and loved Disney, fairies and art.. I believed in spirits and and fairy kingdoms and would get lost in my imagination, my dad was an artist and drew a 6ft fairie in my room with beautiful delapidated wings and a real to life cloud scene on the ceiling. I had visits from spirits and could always sense energy. Sounds crazy but eh, still true.
Iām not sure what the catalyst is for it all changing, mum had at this point (around 1999) undiagnosed C-PTSD from her own childhood abuse and I guess my dad always had a bit of a screw loose. He was a beat boxer and break dancer and loved to rave in the 90s ..mum used to go to and she has told me countless stories of the fun they would have going up and down the country to listen to big sound systems,house and hardcore.
I remember fondly being in large parties in huge houses where kids where welcome and a projector set up for us to watch films, bongo drums would be going through the house and it was a welcome place for all, drag queens and hedonism, it was beautiful and we were welcome as a family, in reflection they were all of their bonce but I was none the wiser as a child.
Whenever things started to get bad at home mum would pack the car and whisk us away, but it would always be to somewhere magical, she would often take us to big and small festivals, big hippy spots and Druid ceremonies, we always went to stone henge for summer solstice but dad wouldnāt be with us, it would be a distraction from the mania at home.
The details are hazy for me because I was so young, maybe one day mum will want to go into more detail with me but it was bad, we would hear mum screaming almost every night and we would walk on eggshells. You didnāt know who you were gonna get, lovely fun creative dad who gave great cuddles and jokes or the scary monster that would switch in a second. Mum took the brunt of it and my older brother used to hide me under the bed and send me to sleep and tell me not to worry. Mum left but we always ended up back there and it always got worse.
Dad has gotten involved with gangsters in the city we lived in and threats had started to come, dad hasnāt paid drug debts and they had to be paid, I can remember being in a safe house of sorts, a council estate in Liverpool, we had no furniture and just a few bits.. there was stinking creaking floorboards and it was so cold. We got a takeaway because we had nothing in the house, Indian food. Mum laid down all of our coats as a bed including her favourite floor length furry 90s rave coat. Dan and I slept on it whilst mum and dad argued downstairs. I woke puking Indian food all over it, projectile. On the only thing we had to sleep on and this saint of a woman didnāt scream. She just dealt with it.