When I was 17 or 18 I was walking around and acting as if I was James Dean, George Michael and Simon Le Bon all wrapped up into 6ft 2 and 13st of youthful gorgeous manliness. I was clearly deluded even back then but with the added attraction of having more edge than Symonds Yat, I can see female readers who may have had the pleasure of being able to notice such gentlemen around the mid-80s will recognise the type of character I am attempting to paint. Hair Highlighted and even lowlighted (common folk called them streaks) and brushed and conditioned to the point of surrender. A beautifully shaped designer stubble beard, which if left too long and in a certain light offered a most unedifying shade of ginger.
As if this gorgeousness wasn’t enough, and I know many will be saying it was more than enough, let me add the sensual scent of Aramis, ever so slightly overpowering and with a faint hint of hospital bathroom along side pastel tee shirts, oversized suit jackets and baggy linen trousers. When I humbly offer canvas slip on shoes and more attitude and cockiness than you can throw a Wham! 12-inch single at hopefully you will have this splendid character in mind.
Our hero during this time had managed to get himself engaged, a fiancé who was a local girl from a local family. This young lady had a sister who was going out with another local chap, a little younger than I and nowhere near as gorgeously cool obviously but decent enough potential as a fellow traveller.
Now my young lady was for me something of a catch. Up to that point during primary and early secondary education (and I know you will find this difficult to believe) I hadn’t always been a hit with the ladies. I’m not too sure what they didn’t like about the unkempt ginger hair and slight squint but none the less they had for the most part managed to ignore my obvious charms.
Well as this particular ugly duckling blossomed, if not into a beautiful swan, then at least into a reasonable looking duck, I began at least to be able to talk to girls without dribbling and coughing.
So when this young lady returned my advances I couldn’t believe my luck. A much sought after beautiful young woman, and she liked me. Careless Whisper was number one, I had streaks, I mean Highlights and I was King of the world or at least Coverham Road in Berry Hill, well perhaps not quite all of Coverham Road.
Now I had collected a set of good mates around this time. One thing I have been blessed with are long lasting friends from that time that even today, although I may not see them in years, I share a bond with that Ill never forget and we can almost slip back into 1984 at will when we do meet. I had a group that was Nick, Tracy, Ali and others and we spent a lot of time together. Yes girls as mates, I know I’d done well! They didn’t seem to despise me!! Although when I used to walk to her house after school to walk her dog, one did have the temerity to rename that dog after another boy who she wished to go out with, But that’s another story for another time.
Anyway, back to our hero and his engagement, it is fair to say that afore mentioned friends were not totally enamoured by the news. There was an underlying suggestion that I was being played, taken for a ride, or out and out used. I of course knew better; they were jealous, and I didn’t listen. Even my Dad, who was never one to interfere was somewhat sceptical, saying to me during one exchange that you can hide a lot behind a pretty face.
It was summertime and the family of my fiancé were off on holiday for a fortnight. Off to the seaside and Porthcawl. Now the sister’s boyfriend (come on keep up I mentioned him earlier) and I felt that this lifetime without these two girls was just too much, they were also missing us terribly they told us on the phone and so wished for their holiday to be over so they could come home.
A Plot was hatched that would see us hitch hike and bus our way to Porthcawl. Yes, I know, I had no car, it was mid-week it was all we could do. We would arrive, they would cry and fall into our arms and Peter Ceteras Glory of love would play in the background.
Except that, when we arrived at said caravan, his paticular sister and parents were there, less than thrilled at our arrival. My betrothed was being entertained by the chap with the escort xr3i she had arranged to meet down there some weeks before.
Now at this point I would point out that I don’t condone violence of any kind, but on that occasion I’m ashamed to say that I was fairly determined to ensure that Mr Xr3I was very much aware of my distain for him. I believe you should fight for what’s right and for what matters to you, it’s how I was brought up. You try to avoid it, but when it comes down to it, hurt mine and I’ll fight back.
Now as it is, on my way to try and find the gentlemen it did rather occur to me that really. It wasn’t his fault. I wasn’t engaged to him. I therefore returned home before what in all probability would have been a real good beating up , by the same route as I went and that was pretty much it for my first serious relationship.
Of course, since then, I’ve grown up a little. I’ve been blessed to meet Mrs Cllr Gwilliam and know what its like to be in a real loving relationship and that’s been a miracle for the ginger haired squinty lad. I am truly blessed.
I also bare no ill will to that young lady. She has since married a couple of times and although I don’t see her or speak to her , I believe her to be happy and doing well in her life, We were very young ,I was probably a crap boyfriend, and this fella did have an Xr3i and that’s no mean car in the mid-80s.
The reason for me telling you this somewhat extended and painful tale is simple. I like to think I’ve learnt what is real and what is important, and I also know when to fight and when not to.
In my time as a local politician (if that’s the right term) and in particular as Leader I’ve tried to portray a certain decorum. I’ve not got involved in the spats of council life. The political bull that is a way of life I’ve tried to avoid.
And although I’m also wise enough not to think of the Council and the Cabinet, the councillors, the Leadership and all the great things we have achieved as being the Mrs Right of my working life as Mrs Cllr Gwilliam turned out to be in my private one.. I have a healthy perspective on that role.
It is however important enough to fight for when threatened.
Of late there have been a few political rumblings, some statements, some whispers. And some out and out lies. Stated in public with the aim of damaging the Council and my administration.
That may well be because they see elections on the horizon, it may well be because they haven’t seen me get down and dirty in my time as Leader, for all the reasons I’ve said also perhaps because I’ve been a little unwell.
However, just like that sunny afternoon in Porthcawl, I’m quite prepared to don those canvass shoes and come looking if what’s important is threatened.
I don’t want anyone to think, I'm not up for the fight, The future of this council, its employees and this district are certainly worth defending. I would advise against anyone underestimating me. Political disagreement is one thing, out and out spite, lies and sabotage are quite another.
Of course, Id rather everyone gets along and work together that would be the best way to deliver in the next 12 months. We could deliver regeneration projects, create jobs, get the district buzzing with opportunity for your young people. And we can do it listening to Wham!
While driving to Porthcawl in your Xr3i if you wish.
Comments