Its 1984, I left school two years earlier and after a year in a nursing college, I have dropped out.
Now as you may have noticed, dad and I really dont see eye to eye!!!! He hates how I dress, how I behave and that I am going against him. The battle started at the age of 13 and is still ongoing.
So in the 80’s theres this scheme called YTS. Cheap labour for employers with young people. Youth Training Scheme or some shit like that!!!!
Well guess who gets to be one of the first victims?????? Yep, me!!! £25.00 per week for a full 40 hours. Minimum wage my ass!!!!
I am assigned to work at The Bolton Evening News in classified! Back then, no computers, lap tops, just old fashion type writters that made a hell of a racket. The paper was printed on huge reels in the basement and boy it stank!
My job was to help who ever and basically I made brews and filed! Yawn Yawn Yawn.
Now the ladies in classified thought they were on Wall Street or something, big hair, shoulder pads a American football player would have been pleased to wear. They all squeeled when another got engaged and showed off big diamonds and the stench of perfume was aweful.
I lasted a few months before being sent to the accounts department as they realised I could count!!! Derrrrr of course I can count, read and write!
The accounts office was a small glass office that housed a very grumpy, bald, fat, did I mention GRUMPY, Mr Butler. He was the accounts department and I was assigned to him. Oh boy, this was not going to end well????
So there I am, black mohawk, pale goth chick counting money for this miserable old git! We never spoke a word to each other and he just glarred at me across a desk of money. My light relief was dinner time, he put the money in his brief case, put the chain from said case to his wrist and went to the bank. Now I did on more than one occasion wish he got hit over that bald head, which he wore a bowler and robbers would make off with the money. Well for all my wishing, that dream never came true. Pity.
At this time in my life I had a tarantula spider called Barabus. Big fat Mexican red leg spider and quick to boot. My thinking was, we are working in a glass office which is warm, Barabus likes the warm, bring a pet to work day????? Ok not my best move but bloody hell, so worth seeing him squirm 9 to 5 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
As you guess, two words day after “job club” ……..
I was hanging around now with a cross dressing boy called Mark, whom later asked me to marry him! (Marriage proposal number 1) and my squeeze at the time was a lanky boy with white hair called Carl. He had seen me with heart throb in the clubs and now single fancied his chances. I do remember that he was a cocky shit but very lacking in the down stairs area but he amused me so I kept him around. Many years later I bumped into him and although I had grown and changed, he was still dressing the same way but had little hair left. Oh boy, move on, the 80’s were so over.
At this time I was sporting a very lovely long black mohawk with short shaved sides. I was rocking it, oh so I thought. Ok so in a moment of weakness I decided to see if blondes really do have more fun????? In my mind I would be Marilyn Monroe. RIGHT!!!!!
I had a mate who was training in hair dressing so off we go to her pad to get the barnett done.
Now I was living at home with family at this point as as previously stated, dad and I not bessie mate!!!!!
Ok , picture the moment its finished???? White as snow on the short bits, followed by baby pink, then salmon pink, then deeper pink into reds and fire colours. Yep, you got it, all the previous black dye made it an interesting look. Too late to turn back now, all done, time to face THE DAD!!!!
All the family are in the kitchen, I walk through the door, mum gasps, dad turns nearly a shade of my hair and screams, ” what the bloody hell have you done”. ‘” Your not sitting at the dinner table looking like that”.
Off I go upstairs, find a very lovely plastic swimming cap, complete with flowers and under chin strap put it on and head for the dinner table. Ok, again not one of my other smartest moments but the whole family erupt in floods of laughter apart from DAD!!!!
That day, dad lost face and control and didn’t like it. He was a bully and control freak and his 18 year old had just trumped him. In a fit of rage he packed a bag, picked up his travel type writter and left for three days. Booked himself into a very posh hotel and then waited for revenge. Mum was never very supportive on her kids and after being worn down, i compromised by having all my hair cut off and dyed blonde. Made him pay of course.
As you can imagine, it was short and no, Marilyn I aint. As for having more fun, nope, I looked like an albino in a snow storm!
Blonde wasn’t my bag so back to black I went and apart from a few years of being a red head, that’s how I have stayed.
I think if there is a lesson to learn here, its, always try on a wig first????