There I was dragging my slightly sick ass into town to take back a gift that I bought husband.
Ok…here’s the story…I bought him a fancy silver case that I thought contained a beard trimmer, what it actually contained was a hair dressing set. This I should have known because the cardboard sleeve around the box said “Hair grooming kit” I mistook hair for beard…easy mistake it was the Christmas shopping sweats that made me choose wrongly.

I discarded the cardboard wrapping as husband opened the gift and he ripped it up for recycling (husband is currently obsessed with recycling- I am too and thought I could swap him for Eminem, turns out recycling isn’t swapping…who knew?)
Anyway I took the silver box back to Boots the chemist.

The young assistant with a rash of spots who looked about 17 years old- took one look at the silver box, took in my explanation that I thought it was a beard trimmer; he noticed the cardboard sleeve missing and said loudly “I cannot take it back in this condition”

I said “What condition? Untouched? It’s perfectly unused?”

He said “There was a cardboard sleeve on this and it’s now gone”

I said “Well, now I have two complaints, the woman who sold me this knew I asked for a beard trimmer and she not only sold me the wrong goods, but she screwed me for the cardboard sleeve”

He said “Are you honestly trying to tell me that this box came without a sleeve?”

I said “Yes, (I was lying I couldn’t explain my husbands compulsive recycling habit) Yes It never came with a sleeve, if it did come with a packaged sleeve I would have known it was hair dressing kit and not a beard trimmer, now I am disgusted”

He said “Then how did she scan it into the till as the barcode is on the sleeve?”
He looked smug at his question, he thought he could break me at this point, but he didn’t know I have been questioned under pressure for concealing guns and weapons in my life.

“Well as you know all electrical goods are kept behind the counter in the Braehead store because of the sheer amount of thievery going on and she must have scanned it from the pile she had near her with her scanning gun” I smiled and added
“When did you assume that working for Boots made you Monsieur Piorot, do I look like a 1920s cigarette girl who stabbed someone with an art deco lamp? Just refund the goods, my husband doesn’t have a lot of head hair but has a huge beard, it’s like dating a bloke from ZZ Top, so deal with it”

A man behind me laughed, I laughed but spotty sales boy didn’t.

I then asked for the manager of the store, by this time I was NOT leaving till I got a beard trimmer in return for the silver cased Hair dressing kit I mistakenly bought but refused to accept my guilt in the part.

The young assistant made a phone call to bring down a manager “She is really sarcastic and difficult and I think she is lying” I heard him whisper on the phone to the manager who was now having to brace himself to meet ‘Eva Braun the difficult customer’ (which is a good reference as Braun make shavers).

I stood my ground beside the photo counter, I saw the manager come along the baby bottle aisle ….I made good eye contact and smiled broadly (this always makes them scared, never act agitated it throws them and they don’t know how to deal with a pleasant but forceful customer).

As the boy approached me (he was actually younger looking that the spotty assistant if that was legally possible) “Hello Miss Godley” he spoke.

Shit - how did he know my name? Now I was thrown.

“I saw you last week on stage at Jongleurs- you are very funny, now how can we fix this? I tell you what go and pick a beard trimmer and this will be all sorted” He said with confidence that shook me.

I felt horrible, he knew I was lying, the sales boy knew I was lying, I wanted to die, then I figured that ‘Hey who cares…lets get a beard trimmer for Grizzly Adams’

I am going to be nice to people for the whole of 2007 and not lie anymore to sales assistants….or I am going straight to hell, but at least I get smooth kisses before I go.

Sorry sales boy and assistant manager child …I promise to be good.

There I was dragging my slightly sick ass into town to take back a gift that I bought husband.
Ok…here’s the story…I bought him a fancy silver case that I thought contained a beard trimmer, what it actually contained was a hair dressing set. This I should have known because the cardboard sleeve around the box said “Hair grooming kit” I mistook hair for beard…easy mistake it was the Christmas shopping sweats that made me choose wrongly.

I discarded the cardboard wrapping as husband opened the gift and he ripped it up for recycling (husband is currently obsessed with recycling- I am too and thought I could swap him for Eminem, turns out recycling isn’t swapping…who knew?)
Anyway I took the silver box back to Boots the chemist.

The young assistant with a rash of spots who looked about 17 years old- took one look at the silver box, took in my explanation that I thought it was a beard trimmer; he noticed the cardboard sleeve missing and said loudly “I cannot take it back in this condition”

I said “What condition? Untouched? It’s perfectly unused?”

He said “There was a cardboard sleeve on this and it’s now gone”

I said “Well, now I have two complaints, the woman who sold me this knew I asked for a beard trimmer and she not only sold me the wrong goods, but she screwed me for the cardboard sleeve”

He said “Are you honestly trying to tell me that this box came without a sleeve?”

I said “Yes, (I was lying I couldn’t explain my husbands compulsive recycling habit) Yes It never came with a sleeve, if it did come with a packaged sleeve I would have known it was hair dressing kit and not a beard trimmer, now I am disgusted”

He said “Then how did she scan it into the till as the barcode is on the sleeve?”
He looked smug at his question, he thought he could break me at this point, but he didn’t know I have been questioned under pressure for concealing guns and weapons in my life.

“Well as you know all electrical goods are kept behind the counter in the Braehead store because of the sheer amount of thievery going on and she must have scanned it from the pile she had near her with her scanning gun” I smiled and added
“When did you assume that working for Boots made you Monsieur Piorot, do I look like a 1920s cigarette girl who stabbed someone with an art deco lamp? Just refund the goods, my husband doesn’t have a lot of head hair but has a huge beard, it’s like dating a bloke from ZZ Top, so deal with it”

A man behind me laughed, I laughed but spotty sales boy didn’t.

I then asked for the manager of the store, by this time I was NOT leaving till I got a beard trimmer in return for the silver cased Hair dressing kit I mistakenly bought but refused to accept my guilt in the part.

The young assistant made a phone call to bring down a manager “She is really sarcastic and difficult and I think she is lying” I heard him whisper on the phone to the manager who was now having to brace himself to meet ‘Eva Braun the difficult customer’ (which is a good reference as Braun make shavers).

I stood my ground beside the photo counter, I saw the manager come along the baby bottle aisle ….I made good eye contact and smiled broadly (this always makes them scared, never act agitated it throws them and they don’t know how to deal with a pleasant but forceful customer).

As the boy approached me (he was actually younger looking that the spotty assistant if that was legally possible) “Hello Miss Godley” he spoke.

Shit - how did he know my name? Now I was thrown.

“I saw you last week on stage at Jongleurs- you are very funny, now how can we fix this? I tell you what go and pick a beard trimmer and this will be all sorted” He said with confidence that shook me.

I felt horrible, he knew I was lying, the sales boy knew I was lying, I wanted to die, then I figured that ‘Hey who cares…lets get a beard trimmer for Grizzly Adams’

I am going to be nice to people for the whole of 2007 and not lie anymore to sales assistants….or I am going straight to hell, but at least I get smooth kisses before I go.

Sorry sales boy and assistant manager child …I promise to be good.

We had the most wonderful Christmas lunch that my daughter cooked. She made this wonderful lamb joint with the crispiest roast potatoes, for dessert we had a homemade pannacotta with fresh berry compote! Where did she learn to make that? I was impressed.
The downside is, I haven’t been feeling well. Ever so slightly vomitty…just this awful sick feeling lingering in my tummy for days has been getting me down.

The upside to my life is, my brother Mij who has cancer and going through chemo is absolutely well! Years of taking various drugs have obviously made him immune to the after effects of the medication he is on! Can you believe that he hasn’t been sick yet or lost any hair? I am impressed. Who said the drugs don’t work?

I went up to Shettleston today to see my other brother. We sat in his local pub and one of his old friends came over….I knew this guy since I was a small child. He was very drunk and also has mental problems (he once jumped off a bus at 30 miles an hour and his legs were only dong 20…my brother told me, and he landed on his head)
Anyway the guy was loud and obviously the ‘pub pest’. I smiled and shook his hand. The man made these really odd grimaces and over the top snappy-fingered twitches.
“Your book was full of shit” he shouted and then made a face that was a cross between Robert Di Nero and Coco the clown.
My brother faced him and shouted “Fuck off and don’t pick on my sister, now go annoy someone else”
The scary man mumbled something, they then had a small bit of a Mexican stand off and the man shuffled off.

“You don’t have to get that wound up, he is allowed his point of view, I did write about his street and he is entitled to his opinion” I spoke to my brother.

“Yes, but his opinion is warped and I don’t want you haven’t to listen to that shite” My brother said.

Then barmaid butted into the conversation “Janey I got your book” she held up my hardback autobiography and the pub went a wee bit quiet.
People looked over, faces I knew…guys I went to school with…standing there with grey hair and sons taller than them…all smiling and lifting a beer to me in a kind of ‘well done’ gesture.

“Shall I sign it? You can sell it for more if it’s signed” I laughed.

I signed her book and looked around the bar where my daddy had stood when he was a young man, I looked over to where my mammy used to sit with her pals and somewhere in my head I wondered what the fuck I was doing back here….holding that book in my hands.
The book that told everyone that my uncle was my rapist, they all knew my uncle, he also stood here cheering on his football team with just about everyone at this bar.
Yet they smiled and somehow gave me the nod of approval. Maybe I needed it; maybe that’s why I was here.

My brother and I walked out of the bar and he headed home.

So did I ….but not to my current home but to my childhood home that held so many memories for me.
I walked straight up Kenmore St. My heart leapt when I looked at the window across from my old flat, the flat that used to be where Peter Greenshields lived, he was the guy my mum took up with after she and my dad split up.

A woman pulled back the curtains and I could see right into her room, I could see the wallpaper on her ground floor flat wall. I recall Peter and my mum sitting there. Then he murdered her in 1982, he took her down to the River Clyde and we got her back in a body bag.

My soul shuddered, the wee woman stared at me and then she smiled and waved at me. I didn’t know her, I waved back.
I walked up to my old close entry to the flats where I lived. I could see a Christmas tree at our old corner bedroom window. That’s where we used to have ours.
I remembered so well, lying in that room, the darkness was being broken with red and yellow flashing lights, twinkling away. I recall standing at that window running my fingers through the frost on the inside, making wee Santa Claus faces on the glass.
I walked up to the close entry; there is a door there now. A security door they call it, there was never a security door when I was a child. Closes in Glasgow never had doors on the close entries; we could run through everyone’s closes, long thin concrete hallways that lead to back courts….its how we had our fun as kids. It’s where we kissed our first boyfriends; it was where couples got that snatched kiss before going into their wee flats.

I was looking out over the view that I used to see as a child and the door opened behind me “Do you want in?” a young guy asked me.
“Thanks” I said and started up the stairs. I had spent the first 18 years of my life on those stairs, I walked down those stairs to get married, and I played on those stairs. I ran away from my abusive uncle down those stairs.

I slowly walked up and came to my old door; well it’s a new door now, not my old door from the 60s and 70s. I sat on the step and could hear people’s lives going on behind the doors. Shouting and laughing, televisions blaring and music playing….I wished I could hear my mammy shouting “Janey, get up here, you’ve got school in the morning”

I won’t ever hear her again, but her voice is not forgotten. I wrote it in that book. My child and her children and their children and hopefully their children will still be able to know who my mammy was….when they read the book.

Merry Christmas Mammy… I miss you.

My wee three year old great- niece Abi went along to watch her big brother Shaun at his school Nativity. Her mum is my niece Ann.
Ann has three kids, Shaun, Abi and Julia.
She recently got married to the father of Julia but has two different fathers to Shaun and Abi.
Her husband is a wonderful step dad to the kids and they make a lovely wee family and I am so proud of them all, especially Ann who came through a lot having kids quite young, yet managed to find the right man.
Abi is my favourite funny wee great niece who has more than enough of my DNA to cause trouble daily!

As Shaun stood on stage and sang “Once in Royal David’s city” Abi piped up loudly “Who is David mummy?”
Her mum tried to speak quietly said “Its part of the bible story now be quiet we can talk later” and patted Abi’s wee chubby legs that were covered in bright red tights.

“My daddies name is David, but he isn’t living with us, I have a step dad called Rob” Abi insisted in telling an elderly lady in front of them.

“Mummy why is that child pregnant, you were pregnant last week” Abi loudly announced.

“Abi, I wasn’t pregnant last week, your baby sister is nearly six months old, now shush please” Her mummy got irritated.

“Is she pregnant with baby Jebus?” Abi carried on.

“His name is Jesus” her mum hissed “She is being Mary in the story, remember we told you it?”

“Yes I remember and that man isn’t Jebus’s daddy is he?” Abi yelled now.

“Abi, stop shouting, yes that’s right he is not the father of the baby Jesus” Her mum added through gritted teeth as adults around started giggling.

“Who is Jebus’s daddy then?” Abi now stood up and faced her mum in the church aisle.

“God is Jesus’ daddy; can we talk about this later please? Now sit nice and watch the show” Her mum now exasperated.

“I have a step dad, like Jebus, but who is God then? Where is he up there on the stage mummy?” Abi spoke-now getting louder.

“You don’t get to see God, he doesn’t always turn up now Abi please shush and we can talk later” her mum started to get frantic as people were staring.

“Is he like Shaun’s daddy? Coz he never shows up does he?” Abi nodded her head and shouted to the stage “Shaun… God is like your daddy coz he never shows up when he is s’possed to”

Her mummy then grabbed Abi’s wee fat cheeks and hugged her close to shut her up….how I WISH I had been there when Abi was trying to make sense of God.
I would have cheered her on.
Ann called me to tell me and I couldn’t stop laughing, I wish one of the parents had brought along a video camera and filmed her, how funny would that be on YOUTUBE?

I had to go through to Falkirk yesterday to catch up with my lovely brother who not only has HIV, he now has cancer but is fighting it well.
Mij has had various drug issues in his past and this combined with the HIV and cancer would make many a man crumble…NOT my crazy brother he is just so fucking funny and spirited…he called me last week ad actually said “Janey I worry about bird flu”

I laughed out loud and said “Mij, you have had HIV since 1986, you have came through heroin addiction, you have fucking cancer I don’t think a pigeon is going to kill you!”

He has a mad jumpy dog called Cooper whom he loves dearly and it keeps him going.

He lives alone and I worry about him being lonely so I go through to the house that is just an organised tip (but much cleaner in the past year than ever…thank God) and spend the day with him.

I got to Falkirk rail station, popped into the supermarket to pick him up some food and then jumped on a bus to his street. The bus cost £2…that’s outrageous £2 for a single short bus trip? I only get charged a £1 in London I was angry that they charged that amount. The people out there are hardly rich and that’s just mental.

Anyway Mij was waiting at the stop to meet me and Cooper was dragging him all over the pavement barking and jumping, poor Mij loves the dog but the animal is clearly too powerful for him. I love Mij’s funny stories and we stocked up his fridge and sat down for tea. Cooper sat there staring at my sandwich and wined for bit as I ate it all up, then the daft dog decided to try to shag my leg. His big sharp claws gripped my ankle and he humped my calf!
Cooper has really short white and brown hair and looks a bit like a big Jack Russell Dog mixed with a Grey Hound!

“Fucking stop it you mad bastard, Janey is your Auntie” Mij shouted, as if the dog can only hump humans who are not related! I giggled and shoved the excitable animal off me.

I remembered that I had brought the Scotsman newspaper to show him, as I had a big article in the paper that I wrote about heroin and prostitution. He was very impressed and we both chatted about drugs and women who go ‘on the game’ to provide their habit. Mij asked me if he could keep the paper, I agreed and he stuck it on his wall with all the other posters and newspaper clippings. It always feels funny sitting in his living room surrounded by my face in various different shaped and sizes.

Mij and I chatted about his grand kids whom he loves dearly, they live far way and he really misses them. We talked about books we had read and then he spoke about our mum and my book. Now my autobiography really does blow the lid off our family and the sex abuse I suffered from an uncle of ours and it also charts Mij’s demise and his violence towards our mum who died in 1982.
He has NEVER spoke about the book and I had no real idea how he felt about it, and he told me he hasn’t read it but got second hand information about it from a mate.

“I feel so guilty and awful about how I treated my mammy Janey, I hit her” he mumbled through tears.

“Yes, I know Mij but she created that relationship with you, she cultivated it and you were a product of her spoiling you as a child, you were the first born and she doted on you. When dad left she became very angry and she somehow enjoyed fighting with you in a strange way” I replied.

“I think what you did was very wrong, you bullied me as well and I know that you loved me, you told me that many times, but I think your depression even back then was clearly apparent, I am not excusing you Mij but there is a bigger picture to this, you never beat her and left her crying, YOU both fought and she took part in that and goaded the fight because she needed somehow to express her shame at dad leaving”
I added and I believe that.

Mij sat there in silence and I believe to this day that kids who hit their parents or physically fight with them are reacting to ‘learned behaviour’.

Mij never did walk in, beat up my terrified mother and make her do stuff against her will, mum and he both scratched, punched and kicked each other, she would run at him and throw things and fight till he reacted and then would sit and cry and hug him. Both of them crying and being sorry to each other. It was very disturbing for me as a kid.

I explained to him that that’s how I wrote about it in the book.

As we sat there in silence I looked down to Cooper who was now lying on his back showing me his white stomach, the pink skin showing through and there crawling up the short white hairs was a FLEA…..I was shocked but immediately reached down and plucked it from his flesh and threw it straight into the gas fire and heard it crack.
Much in the same way my mother used to do when she plucked fleas from my skin as a child.

“What the fuck was that?” Mij screamed.

“A flea, fucking hell Mij Cooper has fleas” I screeched and jumped up scratching my legs.

“He has been staying at my mates house and he has cats, I have to leave him there when I get chemo, they must have given him fleas, I will go get the flea treatment from the bathroom and we will do it to him” Mij jumped up, Cooper barked and we all ran into the bathroom to get the magical flea killer drops.

Cooper sat quietly as we put the drops on him and then both Mij and I started scratching ourselves. Cooper lifted his back leg and scratched his tummy with an awkward claw upwards…it was so funny as the position was so clumsy looking. There we were all three of us clawing away, I scratched Cooper in the places where he can’t reach and he was really loving it, he stood there and let me run the sharp metal brush through his back, if a dog could have smiled then he was doing it!
So I finally made my way home, and Glasgow was very dark when the train pulled into Queen St station.
Husband and I went shopping as soon as I got home and I was exhausted to be honest, but last night as I finally climbed into bed, I recalled that horrid flea and have spent the whole night clawing my flesh and had dreams of being a kid with insects and lice creeping through the folds in my skin at the back of my knees! YUK…
I woke up this morning and had what can only be described as a ‘Rape Shower’ I scrubbed every bit of my skin and stood under a blasting hot shower till in finally felt clean.
Goodness knows if I actually have fleas, I will die if I do!