I remember about twelve years ago, I went to a private therapist to talk about the sexual abuse I had suffered as a child.
I didn’t really want to go but was advised that it would help. This was a new age type of holistic therapy. But it was recommended and although I was hesitant I tried to open my mind and try it.
On meeting the woman who was my one-on-one therapist, I immediately felt uncomfortable. She had that overly bright smiley look that makes me think of people who are on Valium or who are eternally happy over nothing.
Anyway she hugged me (how odd) and then sat me down and told me that before she could asses me we had to do some exercises!
I had just finished an eight hour shift in my busy pub and didn’t feel like being a tree or whatever the fuck she thought I wanted to be.

Anyway she stood me in the middle of this floor in a big empty room and handed me a small hard rubber ball. There was big circle in blue on the opposite wall and she told me to throw the ball at the circle, and then tell her what made me sad.

I was so fucking tired and couldn’t be arsed with this, I couldn’t see how being raped at five could be solved by lobbing a ball at a wall, but I thought I shouldn’t be churlish.

She told me before I threw the ball that anger is a controllable emotion, that it is natural and expressive, so not to feel strange but to feel ‘safe’. Then she smiled serenely, nodded her head at me, then opened her arms and hummed loudly.
I stifled a giggle.

I decided to take her words on board and I lifted my arm up and with all my strength I battered that wee ball towards the wall, it hurled in the air at an amazing speed, the sheer force of it hitting off the wall made a big popping sound.

The ball smacked the wall, ricocheted back and hit the woman right in the eye.

She fell on the floor and went into the foetal position and gasped in pain.

I stood there not knowing what to do, why the fuck did she stand in the room with her arms open, she looked like a target!

“Are you ok?” I asked.

She jumped up and held her eye with both hands and screamed at me “You have probably damaged my eye, why did you throw it so hard?”

“I was raped” was all I could say.

I laughed so much, she screamed more at me. All I could do was grab my coat and run out.
She was right; it did make me feel better.

Well Glasgow is incredibly hot so I went to the park today to eat lunch and I actually made a daisy chain! I haven’t made one in years and it does take a bit of practise.
At least I got some peace and quiet.

I saw the feature of Ashley and I in the Sunday Times Ecosse section and the picture they used of me is hideously funny. I am stuck on a fence with one leg over and one leg behind the metal rail and it really is the most unflattering picture of me I have ever seen. Ashley looks like a Goddess. I look like a fat stuck pig. The article was great though.

Well there has been trouble at the Godley house hold. Husband and I had yet another spectacular shouting match (all we do is fight). As always it my fault, me again and my big fucking annoying mouth. I seem to make him pissed off just by breathing…is that possible? He is big MAN…you see I have run out of insults and have resorted to calling him a man that’s how exasperated he has got me lately.

Ashley is even grumpier; her favourite jeans that she has worn to death have actually died. They have fallen apart and are in shreds.
She had out seven pairs of jeans today and apparently none of them fit properly like her old jeans. So I have decided to get the old jeans and take them to a tailor to be copied. The things I will do for some fucking peace. I may just run away and never come back. They might not even miss me.

So there we have it, daisy chains and shouting matches. At least Scotland isn’t flooded.

It seems Middle England is under water this week. Huge floods have swept across most of Cheltenham, Gloucester and other places that sound like building society’s in the UK.

Scotland seems to be fine so far and I am not sure if we are under threat but there is a reason they call us Lowlanders here in Glasgow!

 

I may move to the Highlands like my forefathers. Actually I recently investigated my gene pool and it seems I had a great, great, great Granny with the surname Derham, which isn’t actually from Durham but is Dutch.

How nice, I quite like being a bit Dutch.

 

My husband has Scottish Highlanders going back five generations and that explains why our daughter is really tall and looks like a big highland lass! All dark hair, fair skin and strong legs, Ashley was made for tree felling and fighting invaders.

 

I was made for rolling down hills and making clogs I suspect.

 

Here is my family tree that I found out so far- start at the bottom with my dad and work upwards.

 

 

(Her mum and dad) John Derham and Catherine Rogers (no dates)

                                         /

                            (Her mum) Julia Derham (b 1853 d 1914)

                                         /

                            (Her mum)Julia Gunn (b 1887 d 1949)

                                         /

                            (His mother) Martha Currie (Died in 1950’s)

                                         /

                            My dad Jim Currie (still alive)

                                    

 

So there we are- a wee bit of my history. I would like to add more to it, but I am still searching and need to go up to the genealogy department to finish it all off, but haven’t got the time yet.

I love figuring out where I came from and find it immensely interesting.

I will update as I find out more.

 

My name Godley was actually my middle name, I was born Janey Godley Currie –Godley was given to me by my Aunt Janey who married a bloke called John Godley in the late 50s and then she divorced him and I was left with his name and no one knows anything about him!

 I suspect he was from Kent or somewhere like that, my aunt and he never had kids together and I don’t speak to my aunt. She hated me for taking her brother to court for sexually abusing me.

 

Her brother is my Uncle David who raped and abused me as a child and she defended him and insists I am a liar.

My uncle was charged and sentenced to three years imprisonment for abusing my sister and me. So I will probably never know who John Godley was or is or where he is now. But I have his name and I am proud of it!

 

I don’t hate my Aunt Janey, I feel sorry for her. She is somewhere out there convincing herself that her family name is intact and their honour is preserved.

What a shame, but I don’t feel sorry for telling the truth….EVER!

Glasgow has a pedestrian area where more often that not Jesus people come past, set up camp and shout about God. I had a small argument with them as the young boy with the microphone asked me if my life was perfect and I shouted “Yes, I have no God to serve, I am good to people, I give money to charity and unlike the Catholic Church in America I don’t have to sell my property to pay off the kids I abused, but no doubt because I don’t have Jesus in my life you will tell me when I die I will go to hell”

The young guy stood there and as the public waited on his answer- I pushed him again “Am I going to hell even though I am a good person? Come on tell the people, they want to know” and he said quietly “Yes she will go to hell” and I laughed loudly and said that priests who have abused kids will got to heaven but I wont and yes my life is perfect.

So after that wee conclusion I marched off home happily. I am sure is Jesus is up there watching us he would agree with me more.

Life can be like that.

There is a new charity in Scotland being launched tonight called World HIV Aids Charity in Edinburgh and I am an ambassador. I am doing a speech and an auction, and I will auction the authors signed copy of the latest Harry Potter book!
I may read the last few pages and spoil it for everyone! I WILL NOT!

Husband and I went down to Balmaha on the banks of Loch Lomond to visit my niece Ann Margaret, she and her husband were camping with baby Abi and Shaun. The sun was shining when we arrived and baby Abi was sitting sadly on a swing, so I went over to find out what was wrong; I thought she would be happy to see me.

“Hello Abi, are you ok?” I asked.

“No” she sulked.

“Why?” I asked.

“I want a wet suit and boat of my own, everyone else has one” she pouted.

I couldn’t stop laughing, a fucking boat and a wet suit! I recall begging for one roller skate when I was her age, one skate would have done me…a fucking boat? Hahahaha…

Anyway she finally decided to stop moaning come play on the beach. Just as we got there the clouds burst and the weather went from searing hot to pounding rain…we all ran towards the tent and huddled in to get out of the slashing storm.

Ann Margaret had a wee one ring gas stove, so as she and her husband drove off to buy fish and chips for dinner, my husband and I boiled some water and had a cup of tea. Finally the rain stopped and we sat outside in the wet fresh greenery and drank our hot mugs of tea…it was delightful!

The fish and chips arrived and wee Abi who is only four years old and must have a stomach the size of a wee golf ball yet managed to stuff huge amounts of food in and a few slices of bread!
She eats like hell and is a tiny wee fairy type child…it never fails to amaze me.

Shaun, who had been in the Loch swimming for ages also ate like a ravenous wolf, I couldn’t stop laughing at the way they sat so lovely and all fingers and pointy pinky fingers, yet chomping their way through a whole fish and plateful of chips.
They don’t normally get chips and fast food, but as the rain had destroyed all chances of eating from the barbeque desperate measures were needed!

Husband and I drove off home leaving the happy wee family sitting outside their wet tent, but enjoying a day with their kids. Ann Margaret’s youngest baby Julia was being babysat, so they had more time to spend with Shaun and Abi.

When we were leaving Abi hugged me and said “Can you buy me a boat Aunty Janey?” I just laughed and promised I would teach her to swim so she doesn’t need a boat in future.