So, it’s been a while since I’ve written, mainly because I’ve been auditioning for other schools to go to in September. I’ve done English National Ballet School, Italia Conti and Arts Ed. We will see where the cards fall and then decide what’s next for me. I’ve also been going out quite a lot: on Saturday I skived Contemporary (well, if they don’t want me at the school, why should I bother showing up??) and went down to the Odeon to wait at stage door for The Barflies to arrive. The bass player, Gary arrived at 4.30 BY TUBE!! Rockstars travel by tube!! hahahaha. He totally checked me out while he was signing an autograph for me: I never really fancied him but then he looked over his shades at me with those big brown eyes and I was hooked! Chatted with the security guys a bit and one of them, Steve, said he’d try and get passes for me and Jen after the gig but unfortunately, he couldn’t get them to us: BUMMER! I could have been in there with Gary! Never mind; I get the odd feeling I’ll have plenty more opportunities: Gary Barfly prepare yourself for the unequalled splendour of the “Ballerina On A Subway Train”, OH YEAH!

So the gig was great but it could not compare with Gutter Swans (I’m not sure any gig ever will though!) Afterwards I went back to stay at Jen’s in East London but had to be back at my hostel by 10am yesterday for my final English National audition. I don’t know if I’ve got in yet but I’m not sure I want to go there anyway: it’s a bit too ballet-orientated for me: I JUST WANNA BE FAMOUS. Went back to stay with Kat’s family in Hove last night: they are so lovely and it’s just the break from London I need.

Tuesday 1st May 1990

I didn’t get into English National-I’m first reserve which means I’ll probably get offered a place when someone else turns down their place. I’m so sick of failure: why can’t I just have something handed to me on a plate for once? Why can’t I get something I KNOW I deserve? I’m so pissed off. I didn’t even want to go but I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, but I couldn’t even fucking do that! My luck has to change soon: I can almost FEEL something phenomenal coming up the tunnel- it’s GOT to happen. Please God: you’ve already taught me about failure, now teach me about success. I need to know I’m worth something as a person cause I’m feeling pretty worthless right now. I want someone who IS someone to believe in me. I NEED to be loved: please PLEASE help me to be what I want to be…

Madonna has summed up how I feel right now:

“No one knows you better than you know yourself
Do the thing you want don’t wait for someone else
Life is just a party that’s all you need to know
It’s your turn to shine baby let yourself go

Everybody is a star
Everyone is special in their own way
So you set your goals high and go far
Don’t put off tomorrow what you can do today

Spotlight, open up your eyes and see
Spotlight, shining out for you and me
Spotlight, this world is yours and mine
Spotlight, this is your chance to shine

Don’t stand in the corner waiting for the chance
Make your own music start your own dance
When you feel the rhythm, I’ll be by your side
Now you have the power baby love is on your side

Everybody wants to shine
Don’t stand in the sideline, step into the light
But it’s got to come from inside
Listen to your heart and step into the

Spotlight

Don’t be afraid to fall
I’ll hear you when you call
And I’ll be right here by your side
Don’t be afraid to try

Everybody is a star
It’s got to come from the heart
Spotlight, this world is yours and mine
Spotlight, this is your chance to shine

Everybody wants to shine
Don’t stand in the sideline, step into the light
But it’s got to come from inside
Listen to heart and step into the light

Everybody is a star, you know who you are
This is your chance to shine
It’s got to come from the heart, do it right from the start
And step into the light”

So here I will wait. Patiently. For MY spotlight.

Monday 14th May 1990.

SO MUCH NEWS!! let’s get to it!

Firstly, Kat and I went to this dive bar in Soho for the first time last week called Spikes & Gossips. It was wickedly cool! Kat wanted to leave early so we did AND METALLICA ARRIVED AN HOUR AFTER WE HAD GONE! We are definitely going back though! It was dark and full of corners where you can hide and get up to no good! The dance floor is teeny but the music was brilliant and we danced loads. It was full of men with long hair in leather and girls in very small dresses. It smelt of Jack Daniels and Marlboro cigarettes and apparently, Lemmy is down there all the time. It was PROPER rock n roll: sleazy, loud and dingy and I LOVED IT!

Kat and I also went to see Heart at Wembley Arena. They were Wicked but Storm (who were supporting them) really pissed on them. We were 8 rows from the front and the guitarist in Heart kept making signals to me and blowing kisses to us both and you can imagine what happened during “All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You”! Anyway, he was gross amd ancient: about 35 years old!

So then I came home for the weekend to Stamford and had such a lovely time with my old school friends and I don’t want to go back to Royal. I’m currently on an Intercity speeding back to London and That Place. The weather is beautiful and I just want to go and sit in Stammy on the second meadow in the buttercups and forget about all my responsibilities and just fall asleep with no cares in the world…

Wednesday 16th May 1990 (morning)

Went to Spikes & Gossips again last night with Kat! We boogied until 1am then came back to the hostel. Early night tonight! It was Parents Day at Royal yesterday. Mum came up and went to see the Principals. They told her that I’m a brilliant dancer but my stiff back and stiff arabesque would prevent me getting a job and they want to see me get famous. Talk about sucking up!

later…

It’s 11.32am and I should be in class but basically I couldn’t be fucked so I left the studio at 10.55am and came back to the hostel. Called in to school and told them I had an upset tummy. Sod them! “They call us problem child, we spend our lives on trial, we walk an endless mile we are the YOUTH GONE WILD”

FEELING PRETTY GOOD NOW, HAHAHAHA!

Wednesday 23rd May 1990.

Think I got into Italia Conti!

Thursday 24th May 1990

Nemmy was a major bitch to me in class today. She bollocked me for talking and EVERYONE talks! Then she said to one of the Korean girls (about me) “watch her: even she can do it better than you and she’s not staying next year” I HATE HER SO MUCH. “the woman is, was and will always be NADA” ( god I love Pretty In Pink!)

I’m well out of That Place.

Friday 25th May 1990

Nemmy will not let up on me! Today she gave me a massive bollocking for no good reason whatsoever: sent me to the back of class then ignored me for the rest of the class AND the next one. I just wish she’d fuck off and take a long walk off a short pier.

Thursday 31st May 1990

Had an amazing half term at home: It reminded me so much of last summer after our GCSE’s: we just used to lie on the meadows in our school skirts and bras, soaking up the rays and feeling so completely liberated. That summer was one of the most care-free summers of my life and I wish I could go back just to feel all those feelings again. To be excited for my new adventure (before it turned into a nightmare). Listening to Prefab Sprout and Aztec Camera and having no cares in the world. Living on a diet of diet coke, silk cut and chips from the chippy off Red Lion Square. Kissing boys , hanging out at The vaults drinking snakebite and black and staying at each other’s houses and our parents never really knowing where we were or who we were with. God it was bliss! Anyway, back to RBS with a bump now. Only one more half term until I’m out of that bloody place for good. I CANNOT wait.

Jen and I went to see Tigertailz in Milton Keynes and then we went to Spikes & Gossips again and Lemmy was there! He TERRIFIES me! hahahaha!

Off to see Little Angels at the Town and Country Club on Monday and the Black Crowes at The Marquee on Thursday: I’m loving all this live music: it just makes my soul sing. Anyway, I’ll write more after those gigs. Until then, CIAO!

So hold onto your dancing dreams; they aren’t over quite yet and I know how free and full of life you feel when you dance. Spoiler alert: that will never leave you and you will end up sharing videos of yourself dancing on Instagram, shaking that 54 year old booty with no fucks given. What is Instagram you say? OH DEE! You wait and see! The internet is WILD in 2026 (oh and dial up is dead: you just log straight on with NO WIRES! It’s INSANE!). So “Keep Dancing” (sorry that’s a telly ref you won’t get yet either!)

Now, onto boys. They will be nothing but TROUBLE babe! And you will kiss A LOT of toads before you find a Prince. BUT you’ll have fun finding him! It would be useless of me to tell you to avoid musicians, actors and comedians like the plague because I know how you LOVE them! But you have to remember, musicians especially are usually a bit damaged and you will find them and you will try to fix them. Babe, THEY ARE UNFIXABLE! So my advice would be: kiss them, yes. Shag them, IF you really must but don’t forget that getting naked with a musical loser will not make you feel better about yourself and the likelihood is that once he’s seen you nude, he will ghost you and leave you wondering what the fuck you did wrong! (you did nothing wrong but boys are wired differently than girls and also have no manners or balls when it comes to being upfront with someone they’ve gotten naked with). Please read “He’s Just Not That Into You” as soon as it comes out (it’s book written as a result of a FABULOUS TV show called Sex and The City which, if you ask me, should be on the bloody school curriculum).

One more thing before I go (I’ll be back though! You need me babezzzz): You will have SO MANY incredible friends and you will make amazing memories (and you will diarise it alllllll! ) but there’s a piece of prose by a guy called Brian Chalker called Reason, Season and a Lifetime. It’s really long so I’ll just summarise it for you by saying that you will have friends for a reason: that will come right when you need them most and you will feel like it was written in the stars that they came when they did, but they may not stay because they will have fulfilled whatever it was they were sent to you for. There will be friends for a season: the ones who come for a short while but bring experience and so many memories of good times together, but like the seasons, when their times comes they may slip away like Summer making way for Autumn. Let them go: they were never yours to keep forever my love. Then, there are the life-timers who will always be with you. (some of your life-timers are already solidly in your life now, in 1990! ) Your School Bestie, Lisa? STILL WITH YOU AND YOU ARE CLOSER THAN EVER!), Then there will be Alyssa (you will meet her at a Storm gig, she was dating the drummer and you will fall in love with her instantly!). Alyssa is thousands of miles away but you carry her in your heart every day and when you see her, it’s like no time has passed AT ALL. These girls are the Keepers. Brian says at the end of his prose: “They say that love is blind, but friendship is clairvoyant”. He’s not wrong. These friends will outlast every man in your life and you will love them more and more each year. Treasure them: they are good people and you are so lucky to still have them. By the way: don’t be too hard on Lisa when she drunkenly unboxes your mint-condition Boyzone Dolls when you flat-share in London in the mid-90s! Hahahahaha oh and STOP asking for 27p towards the loo roll that only you buy when you two live together: it’s fucking PETTY Dee! Good job you and Lisa laugh about it now.

That’s all from me for now: I’ll let you get back to writing in that book of feelings you carry everywhere with you that has all those libel suits memories hiding inside. I LOVE that you’re writing your diary still Darling Dee. You never know: it might actually be really useful one day to have those lurking in the loft. Keep them safe!

All my love, Dee Lister (YOU, aged 54) x

Dear Heart,

I’m semi skiving from school today. I had a headache last night and it’s lingering today so I’m going to have a sleep then off to the Town and Country Club in Kentish Town where the Barflies are playing later. Maybe I can see them as they arrive for soundcheck. I haven’t told anyone I’m going.

Royal is going from bad to worse…I have Test Class imminently to see if I can stay next year and I really should be going in but I just can’t face it. Nemmy is such a cow to me and I feel as if I’m not wanted there anyway so what’s the point? All I’ve ver wanted to do was dance and now…I’m not so sure. That place has literally removed that joy for me. One of the girls in the year above stopped me in the corridor last week and told me I needed to drop a few lbs: I’m trying, I really am, but the weight won’t shift and I refuse to starve myself like most of the others. I bought a Mars Bar at lunch the other day but I ate it in the loo so I didn’t get any side eyes.

Anyway, I MUST go in tomorrow. Right, off for a disco nap before I head to the T&C.

Later…

Didn’t see the Barflies or any of the others (Jen etc) so it was a bit of a wasted journey and now I feel even more shit than I did before. My head is throbbing and I’m all wibbly wobbly. Mum said have a nice hot bath and get some rest so that’s what I’m going to do now.

X

Tuesday 13th March 1990

Dear Heart,

Quote:

“I don’t know if you do it for attention but whatever it is, it’s disgusting”

Nemmy to me in class today. WHAT IS HER FUCKING PROBLEM? Personally I think it’s because I’m not a little dancing robot like all the White Lodge girls. I hate her so much.

Thursday 15th March 1990

Test Class was shit. My marks were shit and I really feel as if I’m fighting a losing battle. Nemmy still takes no notice if me but I try not to care-what’s the point in caring anymore? It does me no good. I’ve taken about as much as I can take. I just keep asking myself “what’s the point?”. BUT I don’t think I could give it all up if I wanted to. What would I do instead? I’ve been dancing since I was seven and this path has been mapped out for me since then. I feel like I’m backed into a corner with no way out.

Tuesday 27th March

Got chucked out of The Royal Ballet School.

My life has fallen apart around me.

Tuesday 17th April 1990

Dear Heart,

So, here we are. The place I never wanted to be. Here’s what I think. After all the utter humiliation and tears ( I was the only one chucked out after Test Class), I realised that I still have everything and more to live for. I thought to begin with that I had failed but I never was a failure. I finally realised that I gave the Royal my best shot but things didn’t work out, AND THAT’S OK. I never really was happy from the start and I sort of KNEW that ballet wasn’t what I was destined for: you can’t get famous dancing on your tippy toes! Ballet is too unrewarding for me but in a way, it’s done me good. I know what it feels like to have your heart broken. I just wanted to die when they first told me and I found it difficult not to feel really ashamed but just because I’m not cut out to be a ballerina, doesn’t mean I’m any less of a worthy human being and I needed to be told that: shame no one did.

The RBS head mistress said as I walked out of her office after my cull “I see you on TV Sarah”, well thanks for your feedback Madame, but how exactly does one go about being “on TV”????

All my old school friends back home have been so kind (even though I was so embarrassed: I left to great fanfare and now it’s gone to shit!) and then I went to stay with Tina in Dorset for a few days. She has painted Roses on my leather jacket for me! It looks amazing. I’ll put a photo of it in here when I get them developed, it’s AMAZING!

Kat and I went to see All About Eve last night at the Royal Albert Hall: they were so hippy and cool and Kat just freaked: She’s never been to a gig before!! I’ll write more about my Easter break tomorrow but I’m off to bed now.

I’ll leave the last words with Jon Bon Jovi because this song pretty much sums up my life right now:

STICK TO YOUR GUNS.

So you want to be a cowboy?
Well, you know it’s more that just a ride
Guess you got to know the real thing
If you’re gonna know the other side
Ain’t nobody riding shotgun in the world tonight
And when you spit, you better mean it

You got to make ‘em all believe it
If you’re gonna be the one, whoa

Stick to your guns
Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you, baby
You can go for the trigger, but only if you have to
Aim from the heart
Some will love and some will curse you, baby
And you can go to war, but only if you have to
It’s only if you have to

So you want to be the big time
Some people gonna drag you down
There’s no living in the backseat
If you’re gonna drive through town
And when you pray for independence
Boy, you better stand your ground
You got to give it all you got now
Or you might get shot down
Fight hard until the battle is won

Stick to your guns
Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you, baby
You can go for the trigger, but only if you have to
Aim from the heart
Some will love and some will curse you, baby
And you can go to war, but only if you have to
It’s only if you have to, oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Well, you know that I been through it
I got the scars to prove it
Fight hard and the battle is yours, whoa…

PS. I’ve just got to get to the end of this year at RBS then I can go and fight that battle elsewhere, where (hopefully) someone actually gives a shit about me.

PPS. Just got my photos back! Here’s my epic jacket. I’m so thrilled with it. Tina is SO TALENTED. I wish I could paint like that!

Dear Heart,

I wanted to leave all the Dane Smithson seediness somewhere lost in time, so I’m turning over a new leaf for this new year. I’m back at school although I didn’t go in today cause I came on and I’m knackered! I’ve had a lazy day BUT I have booked tickets to see Heart at Wembley and All About Eve at the Royal Albert Hall and I’m hopefully going to see Michael Monroe (Ex-lead singer of Hanoi Rocks!) at the Town and Country Club soon too. So many gigs! I just love going to see live music; there’s something about the rock scene that makes me feel so accepted, just for who I am. Not like at Royal where I constantly feel small, crap and rubbish. I’m lucky I’ve got Kat in the room opposite mine at the hostel (although she’s at a different ballet school: BOOOOO!). She is my port in a storm when I’ve had a tough day with Nemmy and makes that oppressive hostel seem a little bit more like home. We went out for pizza tonight and it was just what I needed. Now just need to get a decent night’s sleep so I can face school tomorrow.

See ya!

30th January 1990

I couldn’t face school again today so I phoned in sick then slept until 12 noon! I got a letter from one of the rock scene girlies called Tracy who works at HMV in Piccadilly Circus so I went to see her there. She suggested I get some iron tablets and a decent multi vitamin cos I feel so knackered all the time so I will! Popped over to Tower Records and managed to get some Mike Monroe tickets from the agency there (£8.25) so that was a bit of a result.

Saw posters of Dane EVERYWHERE! I now can’t get him out of my head. Still, I don’t suppose he’ll forget me in a hurry- The One That Said “No”! Please God, let me make it: I realise you don’t mean a shit to these people unless you’re someone in your own right and I’m determined I will be. Never fear, I FUCKING WILL BE, if I die in the process. I may have a “Long Way To Go” (that’s one of Dane’s songs btw) but I’ll get there. I swear to God I will make it.

Went to Freeds to pick up some pointe shoes which cost me 70 bloody quid! Think of the gigs I could go to with that! Instead, I will be using that money to torture my toes. God knows who decided that dancing on your toes would look graceful and epic: It MUST have been a man, right? I’m dreading going in tomorrow. I feel like shit and as if I don’t belong in the school…I know my technique isn’t up to scratch but at least I dance right from my heart, right from where it matters. That must count for something, yes?

See ya.

Thursday 1st February 1990

It doesn’t count for shit apparently.

Had ANOTHER shit day. Ballet class was OK, but I felt a bit like the crap one. Haven’t been picked for any of the upcoming school performances and it’s like being back at Stamford High School and being picked last for the bloody netball team. Plus I feel fat- small and dumpy. I ate three pieces of fruit all day so at least I’m doing something about it, plus I’m going to take it easy at dinner. PLEASE let me lose some weight; it might make me feel better. I wish I was beautiful, thin, tall and brilliant at ballet like the White Lodge girlies (the ones who came from the Royal Ballet Junior School) instead I feel short, squat and average at everything.

Friday 2nd February 1990

Today was OK. Ballet class was alright although I felt totally lacking in energy. I still feel like a total failure: watched some of the performance rehearsals with the other ‘rejects’: we all feel the same. Oh well. Maybe this is all part of The Plan: “toughen her up a bit”. What can I say? It’s working!

PS. Only ate two pieces of fruit all day at school today: really pleased with myself!

Monday 26th February 1990

Sorry I haven’t written for a while but the last week has been really, REALLY shit and I felt so depressed for most of it BUT I made it to Friday: YAY!

The Michael Monroe gig was amazing and I unexpectedly went to see The Barflies at the Town and Country Club the next day which was brill. Saw Jen and Nicola at The Barflies gig and we all went to Kensington Market on Saturday: I bought some wicked boot chains for my cowboy boots then went back to Jen’s and listened to records, drank tea and ate junk food together, it was lovely. She’s so so sweet. Just so easy to be around and so accepting of everything I am, no judgement. It makes a refreshing change from Nemmy who was in a foul mood for most of last week (and obviously it was yours truly who bore the brunt of her bullying). On Friday last week she told me that I hadn’t improved in the 6 months I’ve been at the school, so I spent all afternoon crying about that, but to be honest, I don’t know why I bother: she’s not even worth my tears anymore. I can’t believe how quickly time is slipping through my fingers and I’m not even sure that I’m enjoying any of it: I miss my home, my family and my old school friends and I’m not going back to Stamford this weekend. I’m so so homesick: each day at RBS is like psychological warfare. If Gutter Swans think that “Life is a battle, but Love is war”, you should try a week in my place: every MINUTE is war.

“UP TOWN, RUN ME DOWN, UNDER YOUR WHEELS, I PRAY ONE DAY, YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS”

PS. IN RAW magazine this week there’s a poster of Dane wearing the jeans that Tina painted for him. Oh dear…she’s going to be unbearably smug. Jealous, MOI?????

See Ya!

Dear Heart,

I don’t know where to start!!! So I’ll just crack on, BUT, I went to see Gutter Swans playing their headline gig at The Hammersmith Odeon on Monday. I met up with Jen and a load of her friends plus some of my old Stamford High School mates: I WAS ONLY FIVE ROWS FROM THE FRONT!! That dreamy bass player James SANG TO ME!! The singer, Jason POINTED AT ME! I felt so brave that I crept to the front (after circumnavigating the security guards; they are no match for a girl with a crush on a rockstar). I threw my Marlboro Lights on stage and Jason caught them! (I’ve seen him smoking so I HOPE he enjoyed them, hahahaha!). One of the security guards said he’d walk me backstage afterwards but I was too chicken; I mean imagine if I got thrown out in front of the band? The HORROR!!

Now I can’t stop thinking about James: what is it that is so bewitching about seeing boys in bands playing awesome rock n roll? I wish I could bottle it ‘cos I’d make a fortune! Here’s the thing though: I don’t want to just be some girl in the crowd that he sings to, I want to be the girl the song is ABOUT! I want him to want me the way I want him. Is it because he’s famous? Am I that shallow? Or is it because there’s a part of me that wants so badly to be onstage too…

I’ve always wanted to be famous but I’m simply not good enough to be a famous ballerina which is frustrating because it’s all I’ve known since I was seven and I’ve come so far: it’s amazing to get into the Royal Ballet School but I really am a minnow surrounded by killer whales in there: most of the girls have come through the junior school and they’re AMAZING DANCERS! BUUUT, they’re also so vanilla! So dedicated to their craft and, if I’m being honest, so SQUARE. Like I used to be, until I moved to London and discovered that I can be so much more than just a ballet dancer.

Maybe this crush is actually me projecting my future dreams on a rock band, maybe if I can be around that aura, that stage presence, then I can somehow absorb it into my soul, into my dreams and into my future. Well, I’m only 18 so I’ve got a while to figure out what the fuck it is I want to do with my life. At this very moment in time all I want to do is snog the face off that boy and go to as many gigs as possible. Speaking of which, I’m off to see Bon Jovi on Thursday with Jen’s friend Tina; she’s STUNNING and gets to go backstage all the time because she’s an amazing artist with the most incredible painted leather jacket I’ve ever seen and all the bands want her to paint theirs! I wish I could do something like that! In the meantime, I will just tag along for the ride and hope that being able to do the splits is enough of a party trick, hahahaha.

I will write after Thursday and let you know how it goes down…

See ya!

STILL NOVEMBER!

BON JOVI WERE AMAZING! I went backstage with Tina which was in equal parts, both thrilling and terrifying. I just don’t know how I’m meant to be around these people: do I pretend to be this confident “sexy” rock chick, or do I play the quiet girl with hidden depths? Still trying to figure that one out… I wore a fringed hippy skirt with cowboy boots and my new leather jacket that I got from Kensington Market last week (it’s still a bit new and squeaky so I may have to stomp all over it to wear it in), all finished off with WAAAY too much perfume (my signature fragrance “Lutece” which smells both sexy and innocent, like baby powder and roses).

I didn’t get to meet Bon Jovi but I met the supporting act! He’s singer called Dane Smithson and he took my number! Said he wanted me to teach him how to dance (I can’t work out if that’s a euphemism or not!). It’s so hard being so inexperienced: I’m an 18 year old virgin who’s never even been felt up! I can’t lie: the idea of doing those things with one of the boys from school fills me with dread, let alone a friggin’ rockstar! Do you think they can tell if a girl is really inexperienced? Do you think it matters? And what if I’m just really uncomfortable with the whole thing? I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here though, after all, he’s only taken my number! He might never call!

A FEW DAYS LATER….

HE CALLED!! He called me at my hostel and asked if I wanted to go and see a movie. I said “sure” and went to meet him at his hotel in Knightsbridge. I went up to his room and there was another band member in his room and we all just had a chat then this guy left and before I knew it, I was getting off with the guy!! He was very sweet and showered me with compliments but I made it clear I wasn’t going to sleep with him. Nevertheless, things started heating up as we lay back on his bed: I was a bit taken by surprise but did nothing (except lie back and think of England, hahahaha!). I suppose it was quite romantic in a way: he said to me “I can feel your heart beating”, all while nuzzling my neck and with his long black hair trailing across my face, even the inevitable bulge in his trousers, the thrust of body against body: it was all so new and weird for me and I think I behaved how I thought I was meant to, having no clue what you’re actually meant to do in these situations. Why aren’t there any books on how we’re meant to navigate this shit? Anyway, after our little “encounter” I left (we didn’t go to the movies after all: quel surprise!) and I’ve felt so damn cheap all day

. I worked by guts off in class today to make myself feel somehow a little less grubby. I just didn’t really enjoy the whole thing. Is there something wrong with me? I feel like a total slag now and I’ve decided I hate French kissing (BLEUGH) and I think I HATE men! I’m just so glad I didn’t sleep with him, so at least I have some dignity left.

Anyway, virginity and dignity still intact, so onwards…

See ya!

SO, I need to re-write the very small page that I’ve written so far and I can’t face it at the moment. I will do it but I’m going to start this next bit in the first person.

Listen; I’ve never done a writing course. I don’t know how to construct a decent story, and I’m shitting myself at throwing my novice writing down in such a public arena, but I promised myself that this would be the year I started to write and I’m done with not doing the shit I’ve said I’ll do in favour of cleaning the house (It’s my absolute Go To procrastination technique). So, here we are.

Next bit of Dee’s adventure incoming.

Saturday 4th November, 1989.

Dear Heart,

I MET GUTTER SWANS ON WEDNESDAY!! They were doing an LP signing session at The Rock ‘n’ Roll Farm in Chalk Farm, North London and since Nemmy hates the sight of me these days (she routinely tells me she can’t bear looking at me and kicks me out of class), I decided that I would skive a day off school and head over there on my own!

When I got off the tube, I headed to the lift to get to the street and there was a beautiful girl waiting to go up too. She was on her own and was wearing a Gutter Swans T-shirt so I asked her if she was going to the signing session. She said she was and that I could tag along with her and the friends she was meeting there. She’s got long black hair, the deepest brown eyes and lips like Brigitte Bardot and she made me feel instantly One Of The Gang. Her name is Jennifer (or Jen) and I really like her! I hope we get to hang out again. But anyways, GUTTER SWANS WERE AMAZING!! They were all so friendly and it felt like they were proper rock stars with their New Jersey drawls. They all signed my red suede jacket (which I will treasure forever more!) and I got a kiss off Jason, the singer and he told me I was great (well, if you insist Jase!) but it was the dreamy bass player who really caught my eye: he’s all hair and the darkest eyes that have a mischievous twinkle in them and his laugh is ridiculous but infectious (oh and he’s got perfect teeth! What is it with Americans and their perfect teeth? Us Brits need to up our game, and maybe floss a bit more too). His name is James Jethro and I fancy him SO MUCH!! Let’s be honest, a fledgling rock star is going to usurp a ballet dancing boy any day of the week, right? Plus, most of the boys at school are more interested in each other than the girls (what a fucking waste), so I need to diversify!

Anyway, I’ve booked tickets to see Gutter Swans at Wembley Arena supporting Saints Of Excess then again when they headline their own show at the Hammersmith Odeon on Monday 13th November so not long until I see that brown-eyed boy again! My tickets are right on the front block, about 10 rows from the stage!!

I’m finally starting to find my feet in London I think! I miss Stamford and my friends and the boys there but here, the possibilities are endless! I can hang out with bands, I can make new friends….I can be a Wild Hearted Woman (one of my fave songs by All About Eve). Just look at these lyrics! They are so spot on for me: (although I suspect they are written very much about a total Drama Queen: WHO? ME????? hahahahaha!)

Baby sings the blues for you
She may get happy later
Baby cries for comfort
For something to surround her

And when she sings it you believe her
How everyone she ever knew
Would leave her spinning ‘round
All on fire

Another wild hearted woman
Another child with the stars in her eyes
A wild hearted woman
And she’s falling, falling

Baby’s lost her soul to you
Call her a fallen angel
Stormy weather forever
With every friend a stranger

And when she sings it you believe her
How everyone she ever knew
Would leave her spinning ‘round
All on fire

Another wild hearted woman
Another child with the stars in her eyes
A wild hearted woman
And she’s falling, falling

Lost little girl
In hurricanes of love and pain
Locked in her world
Of daisy chains of love and pain
Trying to find peace of mind

Another wild hearted woman
Another child with the stars in her eyes
A wild hearted woman
And she’s falling, falling

Anyway, See Ya! xx

x

Basically, consider this your warning for maybe some really average content, bad grammar and terrible swearing.

So, let’s start at the very beginning (it’s a very good place to start apparently). No, not my birth (I can’t remember that far back mate) and not even my school days back in Stamford, Lincolnshire. We will start when I first arrived in London: just seventeen and off to follow my dreams of being a ballerina at The Royal Ballet School. To be honest, it’s a bloody miracle I even got in, coming as I did, from a small-town ballet school and auditioning up against some (tiny) behemoths who had been at vocational schools since they were eleven. Somehow, I made it in on a mix of talent, luck and sheer bloody-mindedness. I always was a stubborn cow. Anyway, here goes nothing… Oh, and remember, this is a STORY. Yes, I’ve based it around a lot of my experiences, but there will be dramatic license. And name changes, LOL.

Dee Lister’s Story, London, 1989.

It only took a term for Dee to realise that maybe the Royal Ballet School wasn’t really the place for her. After all, ballerinas really do sacrifice it all for their art: their food, their knees and their souls. Dee wasn’t sure she had it in her. She was probably the worst dancer in her year, and those reminders kept on coming day after day. Never picked for ANY performances, showcases or choreography competitions, it was soul destroying. She felt like shit and as if she really didn’t belong there. She knew her technique wasn’t the best but she danced from her heart. WITH ALL her heart. Unfortunately, that doesn’t guarantee you a ballet career.

The skiving started small: a day here and there because she felt “run down” (she probably was: have you seen what those ballet girls eat in a day? Tissues and twenty Marlboro Lights all washed down with black coffee, mainly). It graduated to being able to do a pretty good job of impersonating her mum as she rang in sick probably at least once a week and she didn’t even live at home: she lived in a hostel with her own tiny room next to the Royal Albert Hall; a long way from small, safe, dependable Stamford where she had grown up. Ballet school was hard, mean, painful and dispiriting.

Memorable moments of spirit-breaking at ballet school included being kicked out of class by the beautiful but cruel Czech teacher she had, Miss Nemcova (or Nemmy for short) simply for existing, and another time when Nemmy announced to the whole class that Dee’s dad, who paid the eye watering school fees was “wasting his money”. So yeah, instead of making Dee into a ballerina, all the Royal was doing for Dee was making her miserable.

Sometimes though, the universe has A Plan and on one of those many days that Dee decided not to grace that uptight place with her presence, some seismic serendipity played out; courtesy of ROCK AND ROLL. Shove that in your pointe shoes ballet school!

Little Girl, Big Dreams.

Summer, 1989.

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IS THIS THING ON?

(I FINALLY GOT STARTED)

What is this?

I’ve been saying for yonks that I was going to start a Substack, but a combination of time poverty, imposter syndrome and cowardice had me hiding in the corner behind my Instagram account, BUT my husband put a rocket up my arse last night and I resolved to do it TODAY. So, here we are.

I want this space to be somewhere where I can tell my stories from the past: from the late 80s right up until now I guess, but the content will hopefully be stuff you can’t get from me anywhere else. I’ve got hundreds of old diaries in the cupboard in my office and I’m going to plunder them for the best 90s and 00s stories I can find (most of which I’m glad I wrote down because I certainly can’t remember doing them: 90s innit).

I’ll try and do a weekly post and sometimes it may just be me, writing: rants, poems, life hacks, opinions. All of me (as John Legend would say). No hiding behind the ‘gram.

I’ll share pictures too, if they’re funny enough.

Who’s in my tribe?

Are you a Midlifer who used to be out on the razzle in the 90s? Are no stranger to a festival toilet or an unsuitable man (or woman!)? Are you now wondering WTF happened to you? Mired in school runs, after school clubs and hot flushes? Are you still Fucking Fabulous even if your kids translate that as excruciatingly embarrassing?

If you answered “yes” to any or all of the above, then you, my friend, are welcome to join my Midlife Tribe of women who are menopaus-ing furiously but have No Fucks Left To Give.

Let’s talk photos, like THIS ONE:

The hair!!! The Eyebrows! I mean, this really does say “1989” in buckets doesn’t it? Oh and I’ve got SO MANY MORE photos that will make you chuckle (and I bet you’ve got some too: show me show me show me!!)

So if that all sounds like a bit of you, then make sure you subscribe and gird your loins for Cawood’s Substack featuring the old, litigious diaries of my 90s Alter Ego, Dee Lister (shagging all the wrong men in her lonely quest for love while trying desperately to hang on to a television career and some semblance of dignity,)

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