A letter to the Millenials who dislike BREXIT

Dear Millenial,

I was never prouder to be British than last Friday as the EU Referendum results were read out.

We the people had gone out in the pouring rain, voted our conscience and by a very small majority made the unprecedented decision to leave the EU.

As the former Director of the CBI, Lord Digby Jones said:

"The Great British Public have put their democratic freedom ahead of money today".

For once in my lifetime, we had a true democratic election.

Everyone could vote and every vote counted.

But the vitriol on those who chose to exit the Governing Body of the EU received over the weekend and today, have shamed me to my very core.  

Not least because nearly all of it, is spewing from those on the Left of politics. 

Odd that the people who would normally be pro-democracy, desperate to be seen as caring, reasoned and just, should be so anti the outcome of a democratic vote.

And that's the reason I'm writing to you as a 19 - 35 something's who are complaining about the LEAVE decision, because your generation has been cheated, not by this vote, but by an education that would have assisted you in understanding it.

The reason that many of my generation voted (I fall into the Category of Generation X by the way), isn't as you'd read in the papers or on Social Media because we are anti-europe, in fact far, far from it.

It's because we watched how an idea that we as the British Public had voted on, has slowly been eroded with no democratic involvement whatsoever into a corruption of something that we didn't ask for or desired.

Prior to the EEC/EU we were inter-railing across all of Europe with no visa issues at all (1972), the birth of the Ex-Pat had been comfortably established in Spain, Gibaltra & the South of France (since the 18th century) and that Dark Navy British Passport was literally an entry through any border control in the World.

The EEC was an idea to unite separate countries in Europe into a single block when it came to trade.  It was never about governance. And for Trade it made perfect sense.

You see we remember the Winter of Discontent in 1978/9, when Leicester Square was covered with 6 feet of rubbish, dead bodies lay decaying on the ground, the country only worked a 3 day week and was plunged into darkness with rolling electricity black outs.

It was the reason we'd voted in a referendum to stay in the EEC 4 years earlier in 1975, Britain was indeed the "Sick Man of Europe".

But as time passed we improved, but the EEC (Not the EU at this stage) brought with it many woes

We remember the waste of food the EEC Butter Mountains, Wine Lakes & Food Burns produced, so that other less inefficient European countries could seem more competitive in 1986 (which were repeated again under the EU in 2009).

We remember the EEC Fishing Quotas and the devastation that had on our Fishing Industry and the families who'd worked them for centuries (resulting in the Scottish Klondikers in 1994)

We remember Margaret Thatcher's attack on the EEC (December 1979) and her wins of the now oft talked about Rebates, powers and opt outs.

Boy, do we remember the terror of Black Wednesday and the loss of £3Bn tax-payers money not Trade like today (a cool £1bn being pocketed by George Sorros) in a single day in 1992 as Britain tried and failed to standardise under the Exchange Rate Mechanism (ERM) to be allowed into the European Currency Unit (ECU precursor to the Euro).

And we remember the underhand way then Prime Minister, John Major, passed the Maastrich Treaty (This was the birth of the European Union ) against the wishes of many in parliament and who almost got away with excluding the Social Chapter for the entire UK (which the much lauded EU Workers rights is based on, if Major had got his way that wouldn't have applied to the UK anyway) and gave away many of the UK rights previously won - induing our right to have a Referendum on important EU changes.

The EU is not Europe, it is Europe's governing body.

And it was the Lisbon Treaty that was the last straw for most of the people I know who voted Brexit. This removed 40 of our 43 Vetoes.  We in the UK had no say in this whatsoever.  Ireland did it's best to block it, but having voted to reject, were asked to have another go 16 months later having got concessions for themselves, ironically, al around Soverignty (but not for the UK), it got passed.

This Treaty, is the one the majority of you, as Millenials, should remember.

And that is why, we, as educated Generation X's wanted our democracy back.  

Sure people in the UK would have obviously voted because they wanted immigration down or that imaginary £350m paid into the NHS but the majority of people I know, love Europe, we're Londoners, our entire existence is based on immigration, our city speaks over 250 different languages and has the most cultural diverse range of people of any city in the world (and don't forget whilst Remain won in London 40% of us that's 1.5 Million people here in London Voted to LEAVE).

There's a lot wrong with the UK democracy (I'm an advocate for Proportional Representation and way more so after this vote) as Churchill said:

"Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others."

But if our politicians are on our soil (and not Brusell's), we, like the Suffragettes, Jarrow and Poll Tax Marchers before us can make real change.

No more silenced by the arrogance of the like's of Tony Blair when the people marched against the Iraq War, because the British Voting Public have just shaken the core out of every establishment in the World that thought we were complacent, apathetic and fearful of change.

But I did begin by saying you've been cheated of an education and I should support that.

You see you should have been given a good schooling teaching you how to think - you weren't you were taught how to pass tests

You should have been given an excellent Higher Education teaching you how to challenge - you weren't you were sold University Degrees that were employment based and tied into a lifetime of debt.

You should have been given an internet that shared information between great thinkers - You weren't you were sold Selfies on Instagram & Katie Hopkins on Twitter.

And some of those issues must be laid at your door as well as your parents.

You see many of you were students

When Tony Blair introduced School League Tables  - You didn't take to the streets
When Tony Blair introduced Student Fees for Universities - You didn't refuse to go 

And When Tony Blair introduced the Digital Economy Bill - you didn't revolt from the Web. 

Your's was the first student generation in British History not to be tearing the walls down for Justice and I think that in part was due to Tony Blairs Iraq War march, where a Million people marched on Downing Street and were simply ignored.

Had you been given the education you so rightly deserved,

You would have been able to see through the propaganda and lies on both sides of the debate choosing instead the likes of fullfact.org

You would have known to ignore the media and the rhetoric about the EU and done the research for yourself (and not just from the internet).

You would have challenged the echo chamber of Social Media, that makes it so easy to assert opinion as fact with no or little evidence

You would have voted when you had the chance & campaigned accordingly beforehand (if you hadn't already done so).

And then you would have accepted the result as being democratic whether in your favour or not, as you'd have known by then, that is how democracy works.

But you're free thinking individuals now and so can search the facts for yourselves (check the links contained in this letter, ask your MEP's, go to your local Library and trawl Hansards).

I urge you to do so, I think in doing, you'll discover that leaving the EU in fact can create a stronger community in ALL of the European Countries on our continent, not just some.

And maybe, just maybe, you may realise, my generation were not voting for a forgotten past of Empire but the potential of the advent of an exciting, unified and prosperous future in Europe for all.

I do hope so, I certainly was.

I'm no Little Englander (I come from Wales) - But I'm Voting Brexit....

With the EU referendum only days away, I thought now was the time to throw my hat into the ring.

But first I'd like to ask you 4 simple questions:

1.  Why was Northern Ireland allowed to have a referendum on the Lisbon Treaty but GB was not?

2.  Why did Northern Ireland block the treaty?

3.  How was the treaty finally ratified?

4.  Name 3 of the 40 Vetoes the Lisbon Treaty removed from the UK?

If you can't answer one or more of these questions I urge you not to vote until you can.

This loss of power for the UK happened less than 8 years ago and lays out exactly which direction the EU has and continues to go. It is in essence the very reason most Brexiters I know want out of the EU (not by the way Europe we will still be a European country).

If you were able to answer all four questions, congratulations, you already know considerably more than most in London.

Sadly the truth of the matter is the debate on both sides has been totally abhorrent and lacking in substance.

I've actually had educated friends say they're not going to vote LEAVE because they dislike the personalities who support it (Donald Trump, Nigel Farrage, Boris Johnson etc.)

The most important vote in their lifetimes and they are basing their decisions purely on the right celebrity endorsement.

And these are the bright, Russell Group, degree educated friends, who know how to academically research, I pity the rest of the UK voting public, who've been asked to make such an important decision with so few facts.

I have been a BREXITER since 1993, having read the Maastricht treaty in its entirety the moment it was ratified (the first ever document I printed off the new fangled internet invention Wednesday 18th May 1993 - I was a geek, shoot me).  The EEC made sense, combining Countries into a Trading Block to compete with Russia and America.

But the EU, that was insanity. Countries with no shared language, culture, economies or work ethics all forced under a single banner to be run from two of the smallest countries in Europe, no way that was going to work (Humour reflecting reality BBC Yes Minister - The Devil You Know - first 6 minutes).

And if ever evidence was needed less than a year earlier having been forced into the ERM (Exchange Rate Mechanism for the single currency then the ECU) we watched Britain almost fall into oblivion with interest rates running at 12% raising to 17% in a single day and George Sorros taking a cool £1 Billion profit from Sterling (for the Millenials who have lived their entire adult life under an almost 0% interest economy this would be an inconceivable situation, the equivalent of trying to comprehend Quantum Physics for a layman - Investopedia - How did George Soros "break the Bank of England"?).

And that is why on Thursday, I'm voting Brexit.

Not because I'm anti-immigration (nobody who lives in Central London is, if you wanted that kind of immigrant free world you'd move to Surrey or Kent - The Independent 2013 - White Britons 'in retreat' from racially mixed areas, reveals study by think tank Demos).

Not because I'm a little Englander (I was born in Wales and the EU doesn't even know where that is - BBC News 2004 - Eurocrats Leave Wales off Map & The Telegraph 2004 - Wales is wiped off the map by the EU)

Not because I want a return to Empire (It's corporations, not countries who rule the world in the 21st Century anyway The Guardian 2014 - Who's in Control Nation States or Global Corporations?).

But because I don't want my laws made by companies, am keen to re-establish politics to the hands of the people and want a country that works for the benefits of the populace and not for a Bureaucracy which exists for it's own sake.

You see:

Immigration is essential for both culture and economic growth but the UK being in the EU has meant it has undermined workers rights and wages by allowing unfettered and unchecked immigration from the EU but not being so gracious to those further afield to counter act it (The Guardian 2016 The Non-Eu Workers who'll be deported for earning less than £35,000)

SME's in the UK are the largest employers (Not the Multi-Nationals who are all obviously keen for the UK to remain) yet many complain of over zealous regulation in Europe and impacts of EU decisions on trade. (Daily Telegraph 2016 Eu Referendum 200 small firm bosses and entrepreneurs tell Britons to vote for Brexit & FT 2005 UK Dismay as Greeks win Feta cheese rights after EU decision)

And

TTIP would essentially allow us to be run by Monsanto, McDonalds & Marlborough (The Guardian 2016 - What is TTIP and why should we be angry about it?)

Why else do you think the likes of Barrack Obama are so keen for us to stay in?

And finally, and most importantly,

There's not been a single piece of evidence that supports that our entrance in the EU has been beneficial (in any true measurable terms - it's all guessed at) - NOT ONE! (FullFacts.org EU Facts behind the claims: economic costs and benefits)

Everyone said we'd be sideline when Cameron Vetoed the Franco/German Eurozone - We weren't (The Guardian 2011 David Cameron Blocks EU Treaty with Veto)

Everyone of the so called experts (OECD, IMF, LSE) said there would be economic failure if we didn't enter the Euro - there wasn't (The Guardian 2000 Britain Told: Economy is Ripe for Euro by OECD, in fact it was the exact opposite - BBC News 2015 Greek Debt Crisis Where do other Eurozone countries stand?)

Everyone of the so called experts are also claiming they can predict the future of the markets, if you haven't learnt the stupidity of that foresight after the Bank Bail-outs... well?

So ignore the speculation, the sooth sayers, the self-interested organisation (always ask how much EU funding a body saying they want to stay in the EU gets) and focus instead on those great JFK lines,

"Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country"

If you vote BREXIT though, remember it's a start, not an end.  If we vote to leave we will have greater responsibilities to bring our governments to account, educate our young with knowledge not work skills and dispel the myths of economy. 

(If you vote remain of course you won't have to worry about such things as they won't be in your authority - I can never see a Jarrow or Poll Tax March on the halls of Brussels, can you?)

Whilst not being a Colonialist I did love the passion of Queen Victoria to bring education to the masses here in London, The Great Exhibition was a showcase of why immigration was so important to Britain (now on display at the V&A). The Science Museum & Natural History Museum gave access to generations to the wonders of the Natural & Modern world and still remain free today. And one of the world's most famous auditorium's The Royal Albert Hall is still filled by the greatest creators of music the world has ever produced and all for as little as £6 can still be seen there.

So our history makes us and continues to have influence on how we behave today.

Britain is great and if the EU Referendum has taught us anything, it is, that when every vote counts, everyone of us takes an interest.

Now think if that were true for British politics too.

Isn't that worth voting LEAVE for?

Answers to Lisbon Treaty Questions

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ratification_of_the_Treaty_of_Lisbon

http://www.theeuroprobe.org/2014-046-uk-to-lose-power-to-veto-eu/
http://www.eu-facts.org.uk/arguments-by-topic/can-the-uk-veto-new-eu-laws/

A celebration of the greatest London has to offer....

It's been a month to the day, since nearly a hundred of my friends descended on The Club (A members only affair) in the Hotel Cafe Royal, London to celebrate my 48th Birthday party with me.

If ever an event should have been covered in finite detail by diary columnists of the press then this was the one.

But of course it wasn't. There were no "Celebrity" Z-List Reality TV stars, no unknown Lords or Ladies who could fill the pages of OK Magazine and no imbecilic football stars urinating into glasses.

Instead though, it was a through the looking glass collection of the great, good and the naughty all representing what London is truly about.

From the McDonald's Restaurant worker who took pity on me whilst homeless in Apsley to the previous winner of Australian's Pop Idol. Radio DJ's rubbed shoulders with Amazon Adventuresses and Syrian News Anchors chatted to famed London gatecrashers.

The venue, appropriately, had a history with Oscar Wilde's notorious parties and was therefore the perfect choice to host my celebration, but without the amazingly kind generosity of Hedi Sersoub the Lifestyle Executive Manager (whom I'd met at through a trial membership at the Hotel's Akasha Spa) the event would never have happened.

My guests arrived to the piano stylings of Paul Wiffen, friend, composer, pianist and film-maker. He'd had the good fortune to work with Vangellis on the music for Ridley Scott's film Bladerunner, so was performing a variety of film soundtrack classics.

Paul Wiffen at Piano in The Club, Hotel Cafe Royal
Photograph by George Chiesa

But having also worked with the late Keith Emmerson, he performed a small but touching tribute.

Certain guests had the immense luck to have their protraits painted by friend & artist Julia Sterland who has been the Artist in Residence at the Union Theatre and painted in the National Gallery. Her sittings began almost as soon as the evening started and went on until the night was nearly over.

Guests were not charged and Julia offered her services free of charge, all that was asked that a small contribution was made to the Macmillan London Cancer Charity fund

Actress Karina Cornell being painted by Julia Sterland

The results after just under an hour sitting per person were literally astounding

Composer Paul Wiffen's portrait by Julia Sterland

Peter Stanfrod portrait by Julia Sterland

Will Smith & Karina Cornell hold up portraits painted by Julia Sterland

First performer to the piano for the evening was the legendary Juliet Lawson. Juliet was cited as the English Joni Mitchell when her first album " was launched to huge critical acclaim in

Paul Atherton & Juliet Lawson in The Club, Hotel Cafe Royal
Photograph by Dave Bennett

The first group to attract themselves in a group were, as I would affectionately call them, the deviants. The party dwellers who know all the underground fetish establishments, the cross dressers, the transgender seekers, the fun lovers. Almost instantaneously they had sought each other out (unbeknownst to all my other guest, as tonight they were all formally attired) and had designated a table all to themselves.

I love it when that happens at my parties. People who never think I'd know people from their secret lives suddenly discover lost friendships or meet like minded people

A Birthday Party to remember....

It's 15:25 and my party starts in 2 1/2 hours.

I still need to get my haircut, shower, prep and ensure everything is ready at The Club at The Hotel Cafe Royal.

Their website reads

"The Club at Café Royal is the hotel's latest offering, conceived to ensure that the Regent Street venue once again becomes a crucible for writers, artists, poets, musicians. The Club celebrates a long legacy of famed patrons as it welcomes the return of today’s leaders and stars from the literary, art and fashion worlds."

My guest list couldn't reflect that ethos better.

Friends like comedian Helen Lederer is due to make an appearance, author/actor/director/playwright Ian Kelly, Celebrity Photographer Christina Jansen, Saville Row Tailor David Newell (who I'll be wearing).

I've met so many amazing people in my life, that this party is meant to highlight the genius of living in a city that is open to anything.

My musical friends will all be performing live this evening.

First at the baby grand piano is friend, composer and synth guru Paul Wiffen. Wiffen has played with Stevie Wonder, Jean Michelle Jarre and worked with Vangellis on the music for Ridley Scott's Bladerunner.  He'll be easing people into the evening with film soundtracks on the piano.

Next to take to the keyboard will be the legend that is my friend Juliet Lawson like Sugarman after the press announcing she will be the next great British singer (comparing her to Joni Mitchell in style and status) in the 70's. She was out of the limelight for years until a launch of her new EP from which she'll be performing tracks live tonight.

Recently acquired friend Natalie Gauci, is next, the Australian Pop Idol winner will be performing tacks from her new EP "Free Falling"

Then burlesque artist Miss Luci Furr (a former guide at The Globe Theatre) will world premiere her International Berlin Festival Routine before my assembled guests. We'd met through a mutual friend who asked if I'd film it for her submission.  It's great when the first time you meet a person, you meet them naked!

To finish the evening will be the amazing Sterland sisters performing Rock in a classical style, St. Martin graduates Heather & Charlotte (@JazzGamesSoho) sing, play violin and piano.

During the evening their mother the incredible portrait artist Julia Sterland (yes, the girls Mother) will be painting selected guests.  Far better than a tacky PhotoBooth.

All of them, like me, have continually struggled with everything life as had to throw at them.

But friendship and a belief in something far greater than money (volunteer performers from the amazing You Me Bum Bum Train who I'd normally be acting with tonight - will come over when the show closes just to emphatically prove the point) is what drives us and the love of London history is what we love to share.

Like Oscar Wilde, my parties are fun, eclectic, naughty, intelligent and surprising...

Talking of which, better run....

A never ending struggle....

Just a break.

A single, unadulterated, unassuming, open door, little push, kind of break.

That's all I'm asking.

And you wouldn't think it was much to ask under my current circumstances either.

Like most mornings, I awoke, curled up on the back seat of my friends Volkswagen Golf car, this time out in the styx of Chadwell Heath.

I'd got to sleep around 1:00 and was awake by 07:30.

This morning I was lucky and the ticket barrier guard at the station was helpful and courteous. It isn't always the case and often the first fight of the day is trying to get some moronic jobs-worth to let me pass onto TFL's network with my damaged Freedom Pass.

Whilst every other card in my wallet has been in there for 10 years or more and remains completely unperturbed, my Freedom Pass, living in exactly same circumstances, disintegrates roughly every 18 months.

Even though I should have been issued with a replacement Travelcard nearly a month ago, I am still hounding the Chief Executive of Southwark Council, Eleanor Kelly to resolve the problem.  The hold up seemingly, as ever, the issue of having no residential address.

With the rising number of homeless like me in the capital, you'd think that they'd have a dedicated department  handling this, but instead you deal with a generic call centre in bumfucknowhere who know nothing of anything.

But as I say, today at the station, no fight.

Well, at least not at the barrier.

Because the next fight is the soulless, brainless, apathetic, phone-drone called a commuter.

How these idiots endure this dirge of movement between, station, train, station, tube, escalator, light, is a question best left to future generations.

Impolite, inconsiderate, unnecessarily impatient.  It's a physical brutal fight, of shuffling, squeezing shoving and holding ground (it's ironic when I first came to London in 1996 everyone on the tube had the same intent, get to wherever they were going as quickly and as efficiently as possible, in 2016 its the complete reverse and seems everyone has all the time in the world either to watch films, listen to the radio or just meander through the corridors of tube stations).

For a Chronic Fatigue sufferer like myself, it's the worst kind of trigger.

A "trigger" is an event that causes a relapse of my condition. Something that sends a CFS sufferer spiralling back to their bed, deplete of energy in abject agony. Think of the worst day you've ever had the flu, that day where the slightest movement racked your body into unbelievable pain and your only relief was securing your favourite position in bed, lying perfectly still, wet cloth covering your eyes blocking out all light, breathing as shallowly as is able to still sustain life to prevent movement and further pain....

Now times that suffering by Ten.

Now remember waking like that at 3am in the morning, having had say, an hour an half's sleep...

That, is what it's like to suffer with CFS everyday of your life.

But worse than that, worse than the pain, worse than the sudden draining of energy is the fact that a "crash" for that is what sufferers call a relapse, could happen at any second of any day and last for any length of time.

The worst I was bed-ridden was 2 years straight.

The worst unable to talk, 3 months.

Longest time in a wheelchair 36 months.

I was diagnosed at 20, so for the past 27 years I've been living with this literal sword of Damocles hanging over my head, everyday is an immense challenge and my biggest fear is being derailed by something trivial or menial.

That public sector worker that you can't get to do their job. That train guard who is unnecessarily obstreperous, the person that promises something and then doesn't deliver.

And it's that latter, the assistance of others, where that break I opened this piece with comes in.

Last year began well.

A new girlfriend (youthful, exuberant, but damaged), a temporary address with her and health in the main, giving me 3 to 4 days a week to function at my best.

It was in this state I approached the Museum of London, my funds almost deplete to nothing and now forcing me to dispose of my storage unit possessions that I'd held for ten years, fundamentally to donate to a museum, to see if they wanted them.

Initial conversations were extremely promising, an exhibition about my life was on the table, akin to a living Pepys if you would. Excitement was palpable and the impossible in sight.

The hope that instilled from those decisions was manifest.  The need for constant adrenaline to keep energies up (a strategy every doctor will tell you ensures a "crash" of cataclysmic proportions) was fuelled each day, by the hope of finally achieving something worthwhile again.

And so it was that I volunteered my time, skills and efforts to the Michaela Community School on the request of Katharine Birbalsingh to produce for them their school video.

In an ironic twist of fate, I was able to do this with the assistance of a homeless Bulgarian Film editor, whom I met through a mutual friend.

He was in desperate need to produce something, I was in desperate need of an editor.

He had no home, I had no home. A film-makers match in heaven.

I'm proud of the work we did on that.  Even prouder under the circumstances it was made. The editor was desperately trying to sustain himself for a project before finally succumbing to having to return to his home. Literally surviving on a single peanut butter sandwich a day.

We even shared a couple of nights in the car together - he in the front, me in the back, to ensure no street sleeping and the ability to keep working.

This is what we made:  Michaela Community School - A New Education

But by the end of July the girlfriend had gone, the roof had gone and so too my energy.

But back to today's problem.

The Museum of London exhibition became a much smaller affair (Recording a Life in Show Space) than originally envisioned, it was claimed that it should be seen as a starting point for further work together, though I find it difficult to see how that will evolve.

But nonetheless, in September of last year, Chocolate Films very graciously gave me some space and access to computer and editing software in their offices in Brixton to begin editing over 200 hours of video film of 16 years worth of visits my son had made to see me in London.

Peter Ride at the University of Westminster had offered me some student assistance to sort out my storage unit on which I'd negotiated preferential rates with Access Battersea to be able to keep it on until such time all was removed.

And I finally retrieved possessions that had been kept in the homeless shelter I once resided at in Apsley, DENS that had resided there since 2014.

But the exhibition is underway now, the PR that had been envisioned for Our London Lives didn't materialise, not a single press release or listing getting a mention in any publication. The film was stolen before it had gone up.  Though requested a back-up at the museum was never made.

And so, I find myself editing again, co-ordinating the PR, doing my own social media, being let down on all sides and that, with my ever declining health, my energy levels dipping and a daily fight just to get around, is the problem.

CFS sufferers are the masters of Cost Benefit Analysis.  Every decision has to be weighed up and merited for it's benefits.  Do I shower OR wash-up, won't have the energy to do both, which is the most beneficial. Shop or Cook? Eat or drink?  We work in 10 minute chunks, we know the distance and energy required to get to a shop, but If the products we are going for have moved 3 shelves inside, we won't make it.  We'd planned and exerted perfectly but any deviation, we'll be reliant on the assistance of someone to get us home.

And that is why I want a break... only a little one...  that Time Out listing, that Evening Standard Profile piece that LBC radio interview... that's all just a tiny, easy, minuscule, life changing little break!

 It's not asking much... is it?

Mum's dead, dad's dead, brother's aren't speaking to me, son has disowned me... Merry Christmas everyone!

It shouldn't be funny, but it is.

That point when you don't think things can possibly get worse and then they suddenly do.

My life since becoming homeless in 2009 has been a veritable rollercoster of emotional turmoil, consistent disappointment and profound loneliness all indispersed with moments of spectacular hope, impossible achievements and unbelievable friendship.

Be under no illusion though, this blogs title is no exaggeration but it's certainly not anything like my worst Christmas to date.

That honour has to go to Christmas 2013 http://paulatherton.livejournal.com/2013/12/24/. That year for the first time in my life I failed to host my son at Christmas. I had nowhere to live and for the first time in my life, had not a penny in my pocket (through no fault of my own).

 It was also the year I realised that I was living in a very different world to the one I'd occupied the previous 20 years. Not one of my regular haunts would assist in housing us or providing supplemental support in these desperate straits, the Savoy Hotel turned me down cold ( a regular in the American Bar for 20 years), Harvey Nichols (a regular at Christmas for 20 years), knowing I was homeless thought it would be a good idea to offer me a measley Christmas Pudding (the only thing that actually required an oven to prepare - you really couldn't make it up) and Hamley's (where I'd purchased nearly every toy I'd ever bought my son for Christmas since he was born 16 years ago), couldn't even be bothered to respond.

That was the year that let me know everything had been corprotised.  Businesses were no longer run by families, who you could appeal to on a humanitarian level or even supported by creative and intelligent PR's who could have leveraged a wonderful "Christmas Saved" press story from helpfully intervening. No, now everybody was just concerned about the instant money. Not long term customer engagement, not good press, not even the potential of just simply feeling good having helped a fellow human being.  No "give us the cash mate or f**k off" seemed to be the new clarion call.

But that was 2 years ago and this is the 30th December 2015 and at least this year I had some cash in my pocket.

Again though, I spent Christmas out of London, but thanks to the ever brilliant support of my best friend David Williams (we've now been friends for 38 years) and his house in Hertfordshire and good friend Paul Wiffen (and his Car in Chadwell Heath) It was nowhere near as bad.

It wasn't like a needed to be alone, I'd had almost complete strangers who'd become friends this year offer to share the day with me.  Samantha Young a burgeoning journalist with a large family offered, even though she had barely the space to house her own family, Elise Godsell who lives up North and whom I'd only known on her few visits to London over the past 6 months offered and David Williams' brilliant family (I'm often referred to as their second son) in Wales, as every year, had invited me back to their house in our home village.

But I passed on every invite, mainly because I didn't want to impose on anyone else at this time of year but also I wanted my traditional London Christmas.

Ironically, that backfired on a spectacular level.

Firstly, I've had a cough for the past 3 months, I suspect it's cancer or Pneumonia (I've literally just visited the Doctor and been given a course of antibiotics to see if that rights it, before being allowed to have the various tests to discover what it really is) because of the living in the car thing (the Doctor actually asked me if it was warm in there and seemed to take offence when I said "No it's bloody freezing"as I laughed at the suggestion, I'm just grateful for global warming or whatever other factor that's producing one of the warmest winters on record), which meant I was by no means firing on all cylinders.

Secondly, the people I'd hoped to meet in Harvey Nichols on Christmas Eve (which would have warranted the exertion to get there) were either ill (new friend, 30 year old Syrian News Anchor, Areej Zyat) unavailable (Ponni Arumugam who ironically spends every Christmas Eve with Amanda Paul for her Birthday, more of that later, Karina Cornell, Penny Glazebrook, Sanne Winderickx,  Dawn Grant, Christine Davis, Caroline Heatlie, Cristina Keech, Deone Morris, Karina Cornell, ) undecided (Christina Jansen, Samantha Young & Samantha Tyson) misconstrued the date (NYE or something else, Aceil Haddad, Baaba Nzema-Ghana, Elizbeth Block, Julia Sterling) or surprisingly & unusually simply hadn't responded to requests (Dirk van Der Velden, Amy Elizabeth Kingsmill, Deborah Collins, Elin Robinson, Elizabeth Jones, Emma Williams, Harriet Olaleye, Marianne Alapini, Sarah Begum), the people who could make it (George Chiesa & Nichola Hartwell) were people I often see and would be able to see over the festive period anyway.

And thirdly, without a car myself, it's impossible to get to the Peter Pan Swimming Race in Hyde Park on Christmas morning, as there is no public transport running, and unless you're in Central London, a taxi is the same cost as a mortgage.

By boxing day, my usual trip to Richmond Park, had ben ruined by the construction of Westfield in Shepard's Bush making the A40 an impossible impasse some years ago and the alternative Hampstead Heath was not looking inviting with a 2 hour trip to get there and the subsequent rain not making for good walking conditions. I'd promised Areej a trip to the Ballet to see the Nutcraker at the Royal Opera House in the afternoon and her ill health had scuppered that too.

So Christmas passed, uneventful, outside of London and alone.

My dads death in 2007, was not too upsetting, my mum's in 2014 far more so, but it was the failure of the my son sixteen year old son to even respond to a Christmas text that was the most heartbreaking event of all.

I'm still unclear as to what exactly happened with us.  He just decided he no longer wanted to come to London.  As you can imagine this was an anathema to me.  If anything, I would have thought he would have been rebelling against his mother and come running away to London, as it is I've been completely cut out of his life. Worse than that, his mother isn't replying to any of my messages either, so I have no idea what's going on in his life.

Now that's clearly soul destroying.

Since my mother's death, my relationship with my brothers has also diminished to the point that this year, I didn't receive a text or email from either of them. My continued homelessness may be a factor but should that be a factor no attempts to build bridges as ever been made.

I always think of Christmas as a Dickension experience, so often put out an olive branch out to people I may have lost contact with (al la Fred from a Christmas Carol).

Amanda Paul, whom I lived with for 5 years, is a prime example, although she is the fundamental reason I find myself in my current state I always wish her a Happy Birthday as the day lands on Christmas Eve. It normally elicits at least a thank you, but this year nothing!

Kathryn Tabu, who made the start of 2015 a far better experience than the last 6 ones, a 29 year old model, whom I dated for the first 6 months of the year and sofa surfed with for 3 of them, ended our relationship unexpectedly and quite brutally in the Summer, was also offered the seasons greetings in the hope of eliciting at least a response telling me she's still OK (I still care about these people hugely, wouldn't have been in their lives if I hadn't) but nothing in return.

My family (son, Mother of son, brothers, sister-in-laws) were all offered the same courtesy but not one of them saw the benefit of returning the gesture.

It actually hurts to write that down. In stark hard print, it feels so heartless, so unnecessary, so cold.

Thankfully people like Naomi Kenton (a girlfriend for 7 years, 20 years ago) remind me that there are some amazing people still out there, I'm putting my son's disowning down to his adolescence, my families absence to the departure of our mother (who kept us together) and Amanda & Kathryn down to needing to keep me distant (something I never can tell if that's because they cared too much or never cared at all).

Anyway, that's Christmas 2015.  I promised myself in 2013 I'd never spend another one alone, I was wrong.

But tomorrow's New Years Eve and 2016 beckons, so hopefully, they'll be better times then...

One can only hope!    

Memories for my son Charles Atherton-Laurie....

About a month ago, my 16 year old son informed me that he didn't see me as a "real" father but more as a distant relative and he didn't want to come to London to see me anymore (he resides in Cardiff with his mother).

As I'd just travelled 160 miles from London to Cardiff on a National Express Coach in the early hours of the morning (arriving at 3am) had, had no sleep (spending the remaining hours until 09:00am in a 24 hour McDonald's - my idea of hell) before meeting him, all simply to deliver his Comicon Costume (a birthday present that I'd had made by the special effects team behind the masks in Mad Max Fury Road) on time...

To say I was disappointed, would have been the biggest understatement in history.

The cliched words that came from his mouth like "You're buying my affection" I believe could only have come from his other parent.

It's not like that he doesn't know his father sleeps in a car, on the tube or when lucky crashes on friends floors or that because of his health has to survive on disability state benefits (a wapping £20 per day), so with what he thinks I can buy his affection, is beyond me.

The amazing things I am able to achieve for him come from living in London and having a wonderful circle of friends who would do anything for him.

But while we endure our estrangement the thing that annoys me most is the inability to share those moments that I so love.

He's hoping to become an Aeronautical Engineer and my recent visit to the Science Museums Cosmonaut exhibition I know he would have (excuse the pun) been over the moon with, even though I was clearly visible in the crowds of the Lord Mayors Parade in the BBC coverage yesterday, he wasn't with me and his Mum even when prompted, wouldn't point me out to him on their TV in Cardiff.

But with his recent revelation that he may be Transgender it was the launch of Brewdogs new beer No-Label on Friday that I would loved to share with him, because only in London would a brewery produce a sex-change beer to celebrate inclusivity.

Nothing like that would ever happen in the pitiful slurry that calls itself the capital of Wales.

I just hope my absence from his life is merely a phase and we will, not very long from now, once again rekindle our relationship as Father and son, as I love him dearly and miss him every day.