Primary School 1956-1962
'Hilary is a dreamer' quote. School report.
I guess the first ever crush I had was Steven, who was half my height, always carried a leather satchel that looked biggger than him and always looked rosy cheeked as if he had ben running 50 miles! He was very shy and quiet but I remember walking with him on my way back from school once and thinking how terribly sweet he was.
Then there was Susan, she was soooo pretty and so feminine, unlike myself, a raging tomboy who wanted to do all the things boys did! She had blond wavy hair and the most beautiful complexion and she always smelled of soap. But like all things it came to an end, she moved away and that's when it was time for me to start a new term at -
Secondary Modern School 1962-1968
I had a very heavy crush on my English master Ed Lavery. He was lovely, with wavy hair and a thick curly beard. I discovered how much I loved writing and using my ever increasing imagination. I wrote poem after poem and essay after essay, then when class ended I waited for the troups to vacate the classroom before I 'pounced' on him to show him my 'works' and wait heart beatingly for his response which usually sailed right over my head, or through one ear and out the other, as I was too busy looking at him. I think he handled the whole thing very well and I could tell he was aware of something as he would always stroke his beard nervously! He was a sweetie, and I have a lot to thank him for as he 'showed me the way' to writing. He sadly moved away to live in Caister, Norfolk, a place I am not too far away from now, weirdly enough.
John Scott was different and though a very good English master(he talked like Richard Burton)there was not the rapor that there had been between Ed and I. But saying that, he continued to encourage me in my writing and using my imagination. He would send me home with a print of a famous painting, asking me to write about what was happening, create a story around it, this I did with relish. But he didn't give me goose pimples like Ed and I did listen to his responses.
Timothy was a year below me. He was tall, slim and blond and always looked flushed. It was a quiet longing on my part, I never betrayed my feelings but watched him dreamily as we studied. Timothy was one of the boys, and so distance was kept, but my heart raced whenever he walked into the room.
Paul was a fellow art student who, as I discovered was the local school lothario and by the time he asked me out he had taken every girl in the class out. He asked me out to the pictures and I remember my dad dropping me off in Brentwood and sternly telling me he would be at the same place to pick me up. I don't remember much of the film as my mouth was glued to Paul's most of the time. Needless to say, I never mentioned this to dad on the way home. Paul was an exceptional artist and especially enjoyed painting aeroplanes having dog-fights, he was very talented and probably ended up going into commercial art.
Besides my writing, which continued, I became involved with music, and the annual school production. Gilbert and Sullivan was a popular genre which was called upon every year.
Peter was a tanned Essex boy who again had romanced many a girl in the school and I have a vague memory of him french kissing me behind the scenery during rehearsals, it was always hurried, wet and sloppy, and reflecting on it later I really didn't have much of a crush on Peter at all.
Alan was a quiet serious type, as was Anton and John, but they were much older than I and to be quite honest there was a lot of unrequited admiration on my part here. Look but do not touch, these guys are older, much older!
During my teenage years right through to the present I had, like a lot of people, crushes on celebrities, namely pop stars and actors-
Four come to mind-
Paul McCartney, Elton John, Robert Plant and Paul Michael Glaser, all of whom are now in their 70's but still going strong, so I picked a good bunch, didn't I?
oh-and only one I actually got to meet face to face, but I have a hope still of meeting with PMG one day before I die!
13 years old, the dawn of the portable record player, ‘Marconiphone’ three speeds 78’ 33’45’ how I idolised that thing, wore the needles out, The Beatles... one in particular Paul... Tall, slim, huge brown eyes, angelic face, handsome. I was never allowed to go to a concert, so was constantly glued to the TV- ‘Top of the Pops’ ‘Thank Your Lucky Stars’ Juke Box Jury’ The Fan Club Christmas Record was posted every year and I have still got them. I remember when the second album came out ‘With the Beatles’ they all wore black polo neck sweaters on the front cover, I had to get a black polo neck sweater too, I tied my long hair back, created a fringe, started wearing trousers, learnt every song off by heart, never went out in the evenings, closeted in my room, record player on, non-stop music, pretending my tennis racket was a guitar, pretending, dreaming I was his girlfriend, so I grew my hair longer. Bought monthly magazines, created scrapbooks, and I do remember hanging around outside his girlfriend Jane Asher's home in Wimpole Street London while killing time for a dental appointment in Harley Street, dressed in a sugar pink two-piece, hair loose, makeup on, clutching a handbag, waiting, but to no avail. Then at night, hugging my pillow, pretending, dreaming it was him I was snuggling up to. But when he broke up with Jane I cried, I was cross, I didn’t want to stop being Jane, pretending, dreaming, but he never knew I existed and he went on to marry someone else (linda), had children, he was happy. I went with friends many years later to see him perform, but I'd grown up a lot by then, I left him behind, moved on. I went to Liverpool and saw his old house a few years ago-good memories.
I never had a great crush on Elton, not really, I saw him perform in the early days, small venues, standing room only, Edmonton, London. I was 22, took him gifts and stage hands placed them on his piano, music was so loud, huge Marshall Speakers, my ears exploded, the auditorium was packed and walking back to the hotel our ears buzzing, shouting across to each other ‘wasn’t it great!?’ Even travelled to Virginia Water, Surrey, looking for his home, lovely leafy lanes, so quiet. Took his birthday present, even found his house too, big granite sign outside with ‘Hercules’ on it. We just walked up the drive, no gate, no walls, no security, just knocked on the door, met his mum Sheila and stepfather Fred, met his manager John too, they invited us in, I remember great piles of ‘Saturday Night’s Alright’ singles on the table, the house used to belong to a film director. I remember standing in the huge hall, seeing the grand piano on the deep pile cream carpet, saw his two dogs- (rather heard his two dogs !) saw the pool through the window. Then we were asked how far we had come and then they gave us a lift back to Piccadilly London in the manager’s car, a bright red Jag’ with cream leather seats, immaculate. I sat in the front, my friend Sue sat in the back. They were going to a recording studio, Ringo was making an album, Linda Lewis was singing on the radio in the car, dropped off in London as promised. We thanked them and they said ‘thank you’ waved goodbye, happy happy days, innocent happy days, taking chances with a friend, having fun. We never met Elton but it didn’t matter, I still love his music, he’s 71 now I'm 68. I remember my wall was covered with his pictures and my record player never stopped -‘Tumbleweed Connection’ is still my favourite album, all vinyl, still on the shelves, still treasured. Thanks Elt'
I first met Robert Plant when I took a trip to Shatterford-totally unplanned, I saw him, he was sipping tea from an old mug standing on the driveway wearing plaid shorts, 't' shirt, hair loose, and the roofers were busy on the garage. His house looked immense and there was a very old huge gargoyle on the end. He saw me walking towards him, mimicked retreat, then laughed. We talked and talked about everything from holidays in Egypt to Christmas shopping. I wore my black leather trousers, black jumper, black pvc mac, my hair was wild and curly like his. He autographed my poem which I got published in his fan mag 'Lemon Tree' he hadn't got his glasses but he bravely signed. We shook hands, I remembered he was very tall, and his handshake was firm like he was. I collected books, cd’s, magazines, piles of stuff, wedged in cupboards. Eventually they were stored away, never looked at again. I do remember years later dragging my sister to a concert and it was very loud. I loved the music, the rawness, the passion.My sister never got over it... But I loved playing his music, whenever I could. The room exploded, vibrated, evenings on my own, freedom, noise, music. But I'm retired now, I miss the music, the noise, I can’t play it too loudly, my husband isn’t a fan. They were good times, crazy times. Everybody thought I was crazy, a woman in her 40’s, the way I dressed. Good times, but I have my memories and when I remember I smile.
'Starsky and Hutch'
I was 25 in 1975.
I 'fell in-love’ with 'Starsky', Paul Michael Glaser.
I loved his look, thick curly hair, blue eyes, moody mouth, but a mouth that sometimes broke into a wondrous smile, displaying perfect teeth. I loved his tight jeans and his blue trainers with the white stripes. Loved his walk, his voice, and wrote fantasy stories about them with my dear friend (still got them-x-certificate locked away now in my cupboard kept for posterity!) Four years later 'Starsky and Hutch' ended which was sad, but, everyone needs to move on, another chapter to write, but still the enigma, still the fond memories, still the 'meet-ups' the 'conventions' keeping the dream alive.
Oh yes-how could I forget?
'Nicki' I shall call him that....
I had left school at 18 and started working for the Library service which was to be my job until I retired.
I had transferred to a local library to gain public service experience I was 23. My crush was 16.
He came in from the rain one evening, Tall, muscular, blond wavy hair and spectacles on the end of his nose. I was on the counter and couldn't take my eyes off him. Over time an infatuation-crush-grew. Everytime he came in I fell to pieces inside and had to vacate my post and escape into the workroom to recover my composure. This boy had totally 'got to me'. So much so that I actually got up the courage to invite him to my birthday party...he came. Brought two mates, a bottle of martini and a box of black magic...we danced to My Sweet Lord and I went totally to heaven. Let me say now, nothing happened-nothing.He went away on holiday and sent me a postcard, my 'crush' on him continued until it came to the point where I actually wrote him a letter confessing my feelings to him. Needless to say, his response was not a happy one. BUT saying that, he later got me alone(in the empty children's section)and told me in a very adult manner that it just could not happen. This was confirmed later in a beautiful mature letter which I did not keep, I felt it was wrong to hold onto it.
'Nicki' went on to university and I transferred back to HQ.
Through all these experiences,these 'crushes', I still write, words simmer away beneath my skin, bringing my dreams to life. I relive every moment and I revel in new friendships, where I can share my dreams, my crushes, write the words I need to write. I do not acknowledge age, it is just another number that changes every year. I may have the body of a woman of 68 but in this head there is a raging 21 year old!
On the subject of Mr Paul M Glaser?
I sent him my two books of poetry Christmas time and he replied most beautifully! He has also sent words of encouragement to me when I was asked to give a talk on how I started writing.
I may have been a dreamer but it didn't hamper me in my quest to write and create.
I thank the people who have helped shape my life. My family, my friends and those who I have never met, may never meet-but might, who knows? But most of all, I thank Him above.