The Boy from beyond The Ice House

By Xander Gibb

A book that takes you on a roller coaster of emotion which chronicles the journey into life of a Gay, Jewish teen who is emotive and talented and trying to make it in this world. The experience will leave you as changed as the lead character.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483531939

Book preview

9781483531939

1.   Getting to know you

Well this is how it started, apparently I burst outta my Mothers womb after days of trying and causing her excruciating pain. It was a fete for which I should display gratitude forever or so my Mom says. My memory of the incident is kinda none existent so I lets face it, we only have her word for it. I will concede on this one as I always did during my childhood with my mom. The experience can’t have been that wonderful as it put me off vaginas for life. Wonder what they did with the placenta?

Most kids get splendor like London with its Theatres, Museums and Royalty or Rome with its architecture and history, or Staten Island with its dump (well, maybe not the latter). But me, I was lucky enough to be a boogie down boy and I was emerging in the centre of the roots of House, Hip Hop and such a wealth of famous people. The roll of honor included Edgar Allen Poe, Ralph Lauren, Jennifer Lopez, Billy Joel, Mark Twain, Mary J.Blige, Coco Peru and this boy! Whether I will be added to that roll of honor remains to be seen, but keep your fingers crossed baby, as I’m oozing talent.

Well let’s give this God-damn, boogie down, loony party death wish roller coaster ride a go. ‘Cause lets face it honey you don’t really get any kind of choice in the matter do you? So I popped out of a Vagina with a shudder and tears that would melt your heart. I was big boy a standard that would try and prevail upon all of my life should I let it. Mom says I cried so much you’d have thought I was dying instead of being born. The relief was not all my Mom’s I assure you. The Doctor would have slapped my Pop but he wasn’t there as he was working away and no that’s not a euphemism for being in jail.

Jimmy Carter was the boss and Springsteen was only in training and let’s face it baby you can’t start a fire without a spark when you’re born in the USA can you? I however was coming to terms with the world around me and was amass in diapers and pins and who’d ever heard of pampers? Diaper rash and nipple rash were the order of the day and who’d believe the same cream cured all? Just call me gums and feed me now and if it’s not too much trouble a change wouldn’t go a miss. What’s that big, scary thing? Oh no it’s fine it’s just my one of sisters.

Adjusting to the fuzz and mystery around me I began to open my eyes and see the reality of the world unfolding and becoming shapes and colors and hearing noises that where alarming from my siblings mostly I guess. Boy meet world, World meet boy. The surprise was mutual. You ain’t seen nothing yet. Watch this space! Mystery, garbles, gargles, burps, farts, whoops sorry. Banging, bumping, crying, sleeping, eating, puking, crapping, puking on people (lucky, my ass) growing, laughing, looking, peeing, bathing, crawling, clambering, and walking. The year went on much like this.

There was this old wives tale (an urban myth, if you will) that said if a baby left a message of some description on your clothing, that it was good luck and should you gamble afterwards as you’d have more than a good chance of winning. Shit is a word that springs to mind for more than one reason and I hasten to add no money was ever won. The Bronx was full of tales of this ilk and they had been woven into the tapestry and culture of The New York landscape.

Beware Red Alert, I was walking and babbling and I am sure everyone I have ever met wished not but I was learning to talk. Caution may bite. My Mom thought it was great at first a one year old able to converse all be it on a basic level. Maybe I enriched those quiet days, how delightful. Delight however turned to despair when no one could find the off switch. It began with Momma and Poppa and grew and grew with a new word every day. Two on good days! Just as long as the boy didn’t curse there wasn’t an issue I guess.

Talking turned into singing of sorts and I gurgled and burbled and my way through extracts of Longhaired lover from Liverpool which came out as yong eared uvver fwom iverpool. I was an Osmond’s fan apparently and way too far ahead of my time. Who’d even contemplated Justin Bieber? Jimmy Osmond was the biz and Donny was the heartthrob of the day or so I am led to believe. I know my older sisters had the posters on their walls till the next big thing came along. This grew into a repertoire of gurgling’s and miss-pronunciations that got on everyone’s nerves including the dog, the neighbors and the babysitter. I remained oblivious as ever. I never stopped throughout the whole of the day and it became a tourist attraction with my Mom’s friends.

My singing boy bye golly, has he a got a pair of lungs on him. Who needs the TV? He leaves Star Search standing. I bet he’ll be a pop star when he grows up. The novelty however soon wore off and annoyance set in. Can’t you shut that damn kid up? Scowled my pop, or my brothers or even the neighbors from time to time. Nope we ain’t found the off switch yet but when we do we will endeavor to let you know. How dare these tasteless idiots dare to try and stifle the creative genius of he who may be a star of the future?

Being the youngest of ten children by the time I came along we did have a TV (or so Mom said) but my Mom was quite tired by then I’m sure. Both Mom and Pop had been married before so there where often grown ups around who I was told where my big brothers and sisters but didn’t see them all that often. My sister Rosie was a frequent flyer on the airship called madness. Her husband Johnny was a nice man with a red nose that got redder over the years. Weddings were always full of strangers and are fixed in my memory, along with a collection of aunts and uncle who where unknown prior to the day in question. It was polite in those days to call adults aunt or uncle regardless of blood line.

I was the only one at home during the day and my Mom would take me out visiting or shopping or other various other potentials for mischief. I have to admit that shopping was a favorite that lead to trouble on more than one occasion. One day we went to the local market and I stole a dog treat. Being only two years old I didn’t understand the concept of paying for things so my Mom decided to teach me a lesson to save me problems in later life. (Yeah, whatever!) What happened next was supposed to scar me for life and ensure I’d never enter into a life of crime or end up in the local penitentiary.

The lady from the pet stall shouted at me and made me cry and said if I ever did it again she would call the Po-Po and that my Mommy would get into trouble. She made me so frightened I was trembling. No comfort came from my Mom (Bitch). Did it teach me not to steal? Hell no! It just taught me not to get caught. The woman never forgot about the incident and when I worked in the market later in life she always gave me the eye, such a forgiving type. I never forgave my mom for that but clearly subtlety was never gonna be her strong point and the lesson was lost in translation.

Having older siblings who where astute at the five finger discount they gave me lots of tips on how to get freebies and not get caught. Looking back my bedroom was kinda like Fagin’s Gaff from the story of Oliver. There was always lots of re appropriated items that my older brothers had either acquired or where storing for some other local young felon. It was as if we had a local branch of Wal-Mart under all of the bottom drawers in the wardrobes and in the cupboard were the water heater was located.

On non-market days we would drink tea, sing and play with the neighbors and their kids who were not of school age. This must be where I honed my conversation skills with topics as interesting as General Hospital, bosoms, whose daughters not a virgin, who’s pregnant before marriage and who’s the dirtiest person on the street. This would change daily based upon how well my mom was getting on with a particular family on any given day.

That of course was all before lunch and dessert was always a gossip, catching up on neighbors, neighbor’s friends and family, and anyone remotely connected even by being on planet earth. Although my Mom would claim even to this day she never talked trash she was the biggest yenta on two legs, worse than my bubby. She was another non trash talking perfect citizen. Imagine my mom, my bubby and my aunt Mary in the same room gossiping at one time, you could almost smell the kasha. Aunt Mary was actually mom’s aunt, my bubby’s sister in law but she I remember her being at ours most of the time and I loved her so it was cool.

It was almost like a take on the Six degrees of separation with a warped slanderous slant. I was aghast at some of the things I heard and being the enquiring young mind that I was I wanted to know what a slut really was as I was sure it wasn’t a term of endearment. I thought for long enough that fucking was the dog’s name. That’s how he was referred to, poor old Benji-boo-toos. That’s what I liked to call him. He was a lovely dog, but Mom thought nothing of giving him a swift kick in the ass. When Benji developed cancer in his mouth my older brother Harry had to take him to the vet to be euthanized. I was devastated and never forgot my little dog that had been around longer than me. I didn’t envy Harry making that tough decision, but he clearly loved him and didn’t want him to suffer further.

Mrs. X the neighbor insisted on being called aunt because it was polite to do so although she forgot she was my aunt Christmas and Birthdays. Her son had a severe speech impediment which required him to use the services of an interpreter who more often than not was his mom. When it was her day off his dad took over the auspicious role, which was a worry as he was totally non understandable too. He was from another planet and I don’t mean Venus or Mars, I mean some far distant planet on the edge of the universe. The frightening thing was that the Dad of the family was from the same town as my Dad. I didn’t know this at the time but it really made sense when I visited the place later on in life. It shall remain nameless for legal purposes. When the boy came over to our house to borrow an egg or other food item he would ask for a yack instead of an egg, or for a poyicle which was a Popsicle or some other equally unidentifiable object. I became good friends with Wayne and the more time I spent with him the more I understood what he was trying to say. Was I the only little boy in town wondering what it was all about? Wayne and I thought not although we expressed it a little differently. Wayne had two sisters, Susan the youngest and Lorraine the eldest. Their front yard was full of rose bushes. Wayne and I thought it was clever to pull off all of the thorns, and stick them to the tips of our fingers and the ends of our noses in order to pretend to be Witches.

Wayne’s Mom kept the door locked all of the time so in order to get back into the house we had to bang very loudly to make ourselves heard. His Mom who got so fed up with our antics would come to the door screaming like a madwoman, no witches allowed, go away, go away. I thought our household was mad. Yes Aunt Maureen, no Aunt Maureen, stick it up your butt aunt Maureen. Already my filter was broken and getting me into trouble. I thought I was funny not rude. Talking of butt’s Wayne’s neighbor was so far up hers she could see her liver. Her name was Violet and she was far from shrinking. She had an opinion about everything and took pleasure in getting the local kids into trouble with their folks for cursing and peeing in the street and other shenanigans.

Whenever I hear that word I think of her and shudder. Her daughter was very loose morally and according to local legend had a lot in common with a bicycle. As a young kid I never knew why she was referred to as the town bicycle but when I was older I realized the terminology was perfect for her. She finally announced her engagement to the lucky ticket holder and was sitting in her yard holding court. I allegedly ask her do you kiss? and do you screw? In a brief conversation we had. She just like her mom adored trouble and couldn’t wait to tell my mom. A young boy asking such forward questions must have seemed a little odd.

She stood at the door relaying my questions to my Mom in a kinda What you gonna do about it? manner. Mom hit me so hard I couldn’t sit down for a week and I honestly think Violet jr. was pleased she had got me whacked. She left smiling to herself. It was as if mom wanted to prove something and teach me a lesson. Believe me it really did teach me a lesson. It taught me not to speak to that bitch again. Every time I saw her I remembered what she had done. She moved into another neighborhood we lived in when I was older and had a couple of kids in tow. She remembered me and although I remembered her too we where not about to become bosom buddies.

I remember hearing DCF had taken her kids away from her for going out drinking and leaving them unattended. They where probably better off away from Violet Jr. and her Shenanigans. I was sorry for the kids but anything could have occurred while she was out knocking back a few and bringing back different men and such. I remember thinking that all children deserved so much better and too have good parents in order to give them the best start in life and access to the best possible opportunities.

Another neighbor was a family called the Crosby’s. The Dad was a builder type tattooed from head-to-toe with a severe liking for beer and always had a refrigerator full to accommodate this liking regardless of food space. He had a coif and looked like he would be more suited to a Teddy boy outfit shoes and all. He quite frightened me as he was strict but was mostly nice. Want sum juice dude? he’d holler. His rough exterior reminded me of a thuggy Elvis pre bloating. Funny thing was Elvis was his idol and he took a week off work in 1977 when Elvis died and allegedly took to his bed for to mourn the loss of the King. Whenever Elvis came on the radio we all had to hush and his lip would start a quivering. I did my best not to laugh or say Thank you very much Elvis has indeed left the building.

The Mom was a bleached blonde bombsite who was originally a redhead and the usual accoutrements where attached to this. Milky white skin and freckles and I don’t even want to consider what else may have been lurking. I loved Janie though as she was a tough cookie and didn’t take any shit and never minded having me hanging around with her son who was about my age. I really loved David and my love for him grew over the years although he never knew. It was a very pure love more a sibling love than anything else. He was kinda my soul mate if it was possible to have one so young.

She had four kids, three girls and a boy. Denise was the eldest, and a bit of a goody two shoes. Her favorite phrase was I’ll tell yah mom and she’ll ‘slap yah. She would split on you for a donut so we’d let her know only what she needed to making sure the donuts were outta reach. David was next in line and was a real pal but not to his younger sisters Jody and Debbie. We both terrorized them a bit I suppose. Here, have a booger David was my best friend and he really was my favorite pal. We did everything together and with forever to contend with’ what we wondered was, what would we do everyday with so much mischief afoot as my Bubby would call it. We didn’t find mischief it actually found us and there was so much of it to find.

Our other neighbors where Aunt May and Uncle Walt and I really loved them and they treated me like their own. When her grandson Darryl was around we would run into the Bathroom when she was taking a bath. She would scold us but ended up laughing herself at our sheer cheek. I always knew when Darryl was around as he would knock on my door before even seeing Aunt May. We where always well catered for during his visits with fresh cream cakes, candy and jelly donuts! What a treat. Always had a sweet tooth so when asked would you like another? I could never ever say no.

Directly to our left was Bernard a hippie type who lived with his folks, his sister and her daughter who was around the same age as me. Lorna was a lovely little brown haired girl who was the Apple of mother Val’s eye. They were frequent visitors to our home and the more they visited the more we found out about their lives. Bernard was a carpenter made a lot of weird and interesting things out of wood. It wasn’t long before mom had wangled a free coffee table out of the relationship. She was really pleased with that. I never knew why mom lived for free stuff maybe it was a Jewish thing but on my life I couldn’t swear to it.

Funny thing was my bubby wasn’t at all that way and insisted on paying for everything. My pop who was gentile used to bug my bubby about money and things. If there was a nickel gone astray from his loose change he would say Come on now, who Jewed me? We found it funny at the time but neither my bubby nor my mom were at all impressed and would call him an anti Semite. I suppose it was pretty rude looking back but it was all in fun, but she knew we loved and so did my pop.

2.   Shaping, little accidents

One sunny day, Mom took me too my Aunts house. I loved my aunt Jean who died quite a few years ago. I didn’t realize how much she meant to me until she was gone, an important lesson for all I guess. She had four boys and a girl and the boys where such extroverts. They were no worse than my brothers and they were nice guys and always good to me. They had a pet hedgehog and my cousin Nicky was pretending that it was attacking him and putting it on his head. I really believed it was hurting him and biting him etc so you can imagine the fear that gripped me. I was frightened pretty easily back then it took very little to make me squeal like a little girl.

Me, being a little Psycho I picked up a little chopper, (always one to hand ha ha) and hit him on the head with it and reportedly said, Here comes the chopper to chop of your head, chop, chop, chop. It split his wig and I screamed like a big girlie this time. This brought my Mom and Aunt running out into the yard in mini skirts and American tan tights what a sight. I even knew the denier. I don’t know who was more hysterical me, Nicky, my aunt or my mom. Both moms scooped up the children in their arms and consoled them for different reasons. After the wound had been cleaned which wasn’t as bad as first anticipated and I had been berated for my sins we went home for some T.V time. My Aunt took my cousin across the road to the hospital.

A few stitches and some T.L.C and he was fine. I however blocked it out of my head as I didn’t mean to do it. Nicky thankfully never held it against me but the chopper was always put safely out of the way when I was there on future visits. Nicky was friends with my older brothers and sister and they used to talk about sex, girls and boobs and pussy. All of this as you can imagine went over my head. Girls? Yuck! The pussy talk confused me totally as my mom was English she referred to cat’s as pussy cats so I just thought they were cat lovers.

Allegedly my sister Lucy had claimed she wasn’t a virgin and word got back to my mom. You so had to be careful what you said as someone was always will to snitch on you in our family. Furiously would be putting it mildly if I where to describe how mom reacted. My sister said she was joking and that she was a virgin but that wasn’t enough for my mom. The next day we were at the Doctors and my sister was being examined to see if her claims were true or not. I was mortified and my mom hid my head as Lucy was examined. She was hysterical.

I remember the Doctor’s comments to this day. He said her hymen was intact and that she had not engaged in intercourse. This was a very scary thing for me let alone Lucy. There was no wonder she grew up disturbed and became the psycho she did. It was as if from then on she changed and so did her relationship with my mom. I never understood how mom was so obsessive about some things. Mom dropped Lucy of at school and ignored her sobs to stay home. We walked home in complete silence and my mom’s fury was clear. When we arrived home I was transplanted in front of the T.V and I was a little too quiet for a little too long and some British movie was on with lots of court scenes. They were examining the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I was mesmerized by the British Judiciary and would for sure become a judge after I was bored with being a pop star of course.

I was hooked and who’d even heard of Law & Order? Neglect, attempted murder and stealing were just some of the cases covered, but a case that was closer to home was that of The under age hairdresser. On this occasion I was in the dock as I was the accused. I was used to getting the blame as I was the family scapegoat but on this occasion I was guilty as charged.

Court Deposition

The mom (the witness) despaired when she came into to lounge to find the accused watching the said TV Show, (the facts) on the said T.V set, in glorious Technicolor (exhibit one) with one of his sisters skirts round his neck, (exhibit two millud) and a pair of scissors in his hand (the weapon, millud) and no hair where rolling curls once sat (the crime, millud).

We both screamed at each other’s re-actions and I was in tears while I explained I only wanted to be like the British Judges (my statement of mitigating circumstances) Our dismay soon turned to humor as we both laughed long enough for my pop to get me a quick haircut (both verdict and punishment). I think it was light relief after the morning we’d had. I was 86’d from ever touching a pair of scissors ever again. Axes, scissors, whatever next? It wasn’t long before I was calling round for David so we could find more trouble. I could never really explain my bouts of odd behavior but it was clear that a pattern was emerging. Not to me, I was a kid, but the adults around me saw nothing to be concerned about.

The next day I was playing with David at the back of our house. It was really great in the hot summer breeze and a care less day feeling so good. Some of the older kids would gather together old mattresses and stack it up next to the Reservoir. There were about fifty mattresses and it looked like modern art. The older kids would then help you up on to the roof and then hurl you off in to the piles of mattresses. David and I thought that we were gonna die for sure as we were hurled off the roof. The sensation, the rush of adrenalin, how weird, I was terrified and excited all at the same time but it was totally worth waiting for. We were glad that we had done it but we sure weren’t going to do it ever, ever again. It was enough to have done it once, well until the next time. The adrenaline rush was immense. I thought it was the best feeling ever, weeeeeeeeeeeee, I thought as my heart recovered from the shock.

When Lucy arrived home from school she went to her room and stayed there all night. I think she was in shock from her experience earlier on in the day but mom was oblivious to her pain. She was oblivious to anyone’s pain but her own. I didn’t know till I was older but she suffered badly with depression but we never knew about it or why. Where did moms go back then to get help with this kind of thing, to the Doctor for tranquilizers of course?

Kindergarten was my part time activity and a chance for respite for both mom and I. It was three mornings per week and I loved it so much. The Teachers where loving and caring and encouraged you to play with toys of all descriptions. I think they where a little dismayed at my choice of dressing up paraphernalia as wigs, frocks and pumps where not the ideal choice for a young boy like me. I loved it anyway. Some would call it training. David called it funny. Little did they know I would become a Drag Queen for a period later in my journey. When my Mom was informed of my debauchery she said I was being expressive or just highly-strung. It was ok for your 5 yr old son to dress as a girl right?

When early afternoon came along we where all ushered to bed for a little nap in the sleep corner on camp beds and given milk and cookies upon waking. This is the life I thought I could get used to this! I was to be rudely awakened in no time though with the transition from kindergarten wonderland to elementary school. It was to be hell with a lunch break and prisoner guards disguised as educators. I wish my mom had been able to home school me as this would have been much more desirable than the hell which was to come.

This soon came around and boy what a rude awakening. The teacher soon changed from being a transitional lady into the psycho hose beast from hell. I hated school from day one and my mom assured me that it would get better but she was clearly lying. God was she wrong. By the time I was nearly sixteen and leaving school the release felt was undescribable. I was like a prisoner set free, I vowed never to return and never did.

I was a sassy kid and this did not transpose well to the classroom. I found it so difficult to not say how I felt because I had always been encouraged to do so. Cursing was a common occurrence in my house but so not appropriate for school. Curb that potty mouth the teacher would say. Cursing was ok at home even though we were rebuked for it. Lucy, Shane, Warren and myself all swore and with Harry it was every other word.

This was really the first lesson that I had to learn standing in the corner which occurred quite a lot and learning my lesson was just not an option but why I will never know. Question upon question was asked as I so inquisitive. The teachers soon learned of my reputation. Even they tried to find the off switch but alas found another of my design faults. This made me stand out from the other kids but not in a positive way. If I wasn’t so young people would have referred to me as effeminate but this kind of terminology would have been deemed inappropriate, certainly not in those days. I suppose my I’m always right attitude that had been honed from an early age was beginning to show its true ugliness. It was something that later on in life I would hate myself for.

Are you married Miss Talbot? Who’s ya husband Miss Talbot? What’s his name Miss Talbot? What does he do? Is he a teacher Miss Talbot? Where does he teach? What does he teach? Do you have any children? What are their names Miss Talbot? Got any pictures? Where do ya live? Is it a House Miss Talbot? How much did it cost? Is it a mortgage? And the questions went on and on and on………………………, I exaggerate not.

My oldest brother was the unfortunate stooge who my mum roped in to get me from school most days, when pop was unavailable that is. He was only 15 or so and looked older and got served with liquor. I guess he had a fake I.D & Juvi hall was a calling. He used to place a bet at the OTB before he would pick me up from school and the price for my silence each time he won was a gift. This boy had his eye on a space hopper this time it was the gift that my heart desired.

In those days they where about $5 and grudgingly he agreed to buy it for me. He had won about $40 and it was only fair, my percentage if you will. My Mom never knew although I’m sure she wondered where the great gifts where coming from. She would have flipped if she knew of the treasure trove of stolen items in the bedroom. I was always compensated for looking the other way and I they kept me supplied with candy and the like so I was cool with it.

Harry was my favorite brother intermittently. It all depended on who was being nice to me that day. Brothers aren’t always nice and can be really mean. Woe betide anyone else challenging me, kids in the street etc. They would all be the first to stand up for me. They were never afraid to roll up their sleeves and fight for me as I was their littlest bro. As their where four of us boys we all shared one bedroom which didn’t do a lot for a boy’s privacy. You didn’t get a minute to yourself as there was always more than one person in there at any one given time. If it wasn’t Harry, it was Shaun, or Warren or multiples there in. If they weren’t hiding stolen goods the were plotting something or other.

What I really needed was a room of my own, no a house of my own or maybe a castle. I longed for space or a space of my own to be more precise. I often wondered what it would be like when I was older having my own apartment. No one to tell me where to be or where to sit or what to do or when to do it would be just fine. I dreamed of this and other things regularly. As the youngest I was always the first to bed, well in theory anyway. I had so many excuses for staying up later from being afraid of the dark to feeling unwell and the list went on. When I couldn’t stay up late I would sit on the stairs with my sister Lucy who would threaten to kill me if I made the slightest noise. Lucy was a bully even back then.

I knew even when I was really young that I was different but I couldn’t have put my finger on exactly what it was. Was it the way I behaved or was it because there was something wrong with me? I really didn’t know, identify or care. I say I didn’t care but I really did, because my behaviour and my growing anger scared me. Teachers told my parents that I was really intelligent and that my scores went off the graph but it didn’t explain my behaviour.

Once when I was about four or five the milk guy came to collect his cash and my sister Lucy left the door to the main street open. She had gone to the neighbor’s house to take Lorna home who’d been visiting and had wet her pants. Any opportunity to create mischief was far too tempting, so I was off. I spotted the milk cart parked invitingly at the side of the road and went to investigate further. My investigation went too far when I decided to try and drive the cart myself. After all I was 5 or so and driving was second nature right? Driving everyone crazy maybe, but not a vehicle on the road. If there was trouble you could count on the fact I’d be there on the double.

My foot went down and I was thrown out onto the road. The cart went over my legs and broke my right femur. Apparently it was nothing short of an act of God that I wasn’t crushed. The cart was a right off. I was in hospital within the hour with my Mom screaming MY BABY. The dairy tried to sue my mom and my Mom sued back. Apparently the Dairy where at fault due to the driver leaving the keys in the vehicle. Litigation was my mom’s Hebrew name as my bubby used to say. Suing people was second nature in those days and just got worse. Society became more and more litigious as the years went on oh and disagree with more or I’ll sue you!

After settling in for what was supposed to be a short stay I fell in love with the nurse who was nice to me. She was called Nurse Carson and is probably married to some hot Doctor now lucky bastard. She was the nicest of all of and found my manner funny rather than intolerable like the other nurses. My time in hospital was short lived and my only ally couldn’t be on duty all of the time and I was always left bursting for a pee with no offer of a bottle or a bed pan. I did what came naturally. I peed over the side of the bed. This as you can imagine went down like a led balloon and I was as popular as pork in a synagogue.

Visiting interspersed the boredom and provided gifts which I ate while singing and frustrating the hospital staff even further. I want to go home became my new chant and I really did more than anything. Being in hospital and in traction was the ideal situation for a growing boy like me. One day I got very upset because I thought that my mom had forgotten me. I looked at the clock for hours thinking all kinds of crazy things. It was all that the nurses could do to console me and I reckon the blubbering added to their dislike of me. I didn’t care really, I just wanted to get this god-damn thing of my leg and be normal again whatever that was. When mom walked through the door I just knew she was in a foul mood. She had been in the E.R for 2 hours getting stitches in her thumb as she’d caught it in a taxi door. The