Say Goodbye to the 80's

A decade of learning some lasting life lessons

The 1980s was a decade of growth and change for me. I ventured into the dating world, then married life, then life as a divorcee! However, none of that is important as, to be honest relationships have never really been a goal of mine – romantic ones at least.  I feel that relationships are like a fortress under siege…the people on the outside seem desperate to get inside and the people on the inside are often screaming to get out. I always felt liberated at the end of a relationship where we could either continue as friends or simply part never to see one another again. I know it sounds brutal and callous and I am far from completely void of emotion. It's just that I don’t do well in traditional relationships – my boredom threshold is exceptionally low. I am not even trying to justify or redeem myself, it’s just who I am. Some may say, “Oh you just haven’t met the right person yet”, who knows? There were times in my life when I felt that I had but nothing became of it. I have given up trying to analyze or justify my single status, it just is, and I have adapted to it and most of the time welcome it.

Back to relationships though, I know we are all programmed from birth to go out and find a significant other and procreate, but this was never of any interest to me, especially the procreate part! Being alone does not necessarily equate to being lonely. If you are not happy with your own company then being alone can certainly be a hardship, but for me, it has become a completely natural state of being. Do not take away from this that I am a hermit with no friends though, I have many people in my life I consider to be friends, some closer than others, but all valuable to me. It’s just that I have come to acknowledge that I am a complex person. There is more to me than the surface suggests and not everyone needs to have to deal with that. I am however an open book if a question is asked of me, but I will never burden someone with answers they did not seek.

So again, the specter of relationships, I often feel that people want you to be in a relationship for their happiness. That’s it, you are neatly tied up and presented to someone else to deal with, relieving them of all responsibility. Am I being harsh again? Perhaps, but people do spend way too much time worrying about the lives of others and giving unsolicited advice. This is an observation the late, great Quentin Crisp made and one I have benefitted from learning to apply in my own life too. He observed that more trouble is caused when people try to decide what is best for others and that so often falls in the area of relationships. So maybe we should try to focus on ourselves more, that is probably the hardest relationship lesson of all. Food for thought.

So onwards and upwards, and that is how my life seemed to be going in the 80’s. I made major strides in terms of my music journalism when I progressed from my weekly column in a local newspaper to the national music papers. ‘Record Mirror’ ‘Number 1’, ‘Smash Hits’, and ‘Sounds’, I contributed to them all in a small or large way from around 1984-89. I then progressed to bodybuilding magazines and was a contributing editor on pretty much every magazine available in the UK at the time…’ Muscle & Co’, ‘Bodybuilding Monthly’, ‘Health & Strength’, ‘Strength Athlete’, ‘Bodypower’, ‘And Physiques International’, I was in them all.

Things were plodding along at a steady predictable pace. I was supporting myself as a freelancer since I always maintained a somewhat frugal lifestyle. Then as if out of nowhere, towards the tail end of the 80s, I was asked by an American company to come to New York to write about their workout supplement, ‘Cybergenics’ – now anyone who was in the bodybuilding scene in the 80s knows about that supplement kit known as ‘the natural steroid replacement system’. Of course, there was, and remains to this day, no such thing. That being said, they asked me to come and write about them for the British market. So, what was my reaction? You would have thought I would be jumping up and down with excitement, but my reaction was absolute fear and panic! I had never been to America, hell I had never flown on my own, my last trip overseas was with my parents to Italy when I was about nine! I made up one thousand reasons why I could not go. I didn’t have a current passport for one…oh no problem said their UK rep, we can get an emergency passport for you. I am pretty sure I had many more reasons that were shot down like wooden pegs in a fairground. I was going and they would not take no for an answer.
It was like one of those engagements or parties where you steadfastly do not want to go but are pressured into it and, despite your reluctance, you go and end up having the best time of your life!

To say I was terrified was an understatement. I will admit that I came up with a tactic I am not proud of. I called the airline and said I had injured my ankle (I had not of course) and would have difficulty walking around the airport, so they granted me wheelchair status and I was to be wheeled everywhere thus removing the fear of getting lost.

On the day itself, my dad drove me to the airport and waited with me until I had to enter the departure lounge. After so much procrastinating I was somehow getting into an airplane for the first time since I was twelve years old and I was going to New York City!

Falling out of a stretch limo…my first night in NYC

The year was 1986 and Ronald Reagan had just announced plans for an amnesty for illegal immigrants. However, to qualify you needed to have been living in the USA for 10 years or more…I had just been there 10 minutes! Dreams extinguished yes, but I will tell you I tried and tried to get L & S Research (the company that brought me over) to give me a job and let me stay. Of course, it did not work but I was determined, and I will document my attempts in the next chapter. Suffice it to say, that it took me 13 years of belief, persistence, and stubborn determination, but I made it happen!

The large billboard that met my arrival at Gold’s Gym

So, saving the city that never sleeps for another chapter, I did have one other lesson delivered to me courtesy of the 80s and that was ‘be careful who you trust’. Earlier I referred to my stay in Manchester. Well, I lived in Manchester for about 6 years sharing a home with a well-known female bodybuilder at the time, who to avoid ruffling feathers, I will refer to as ‘Sara’. I honestly should have gotten a heads up from the very start when on my first night there she told me that if the woman at the corner store should ask who I was, I should reply that I was Sara’s housekeeper…nice eh, and oh so naïve of me not to snap back.
Anyway, for the most part, the two of us got on pretty well – she was out most of the time, so I had the place to myself. When she was home there was no shortage of male callers. I found it all amusing though and honestly could not have cared less. 

Trouble reared its ugly head in the shape of one of those boyfriends, I shall call him Mr. T. He was one of those rough-around-the-edge gangster types. He was a Bodybuilder, of course, and a nightclub bouncer who thought he was somebody. I did not like him but tolerated his visits. He lived in London for the most part so was not a continuous presence. Around that time my mother died (it was 1989) and I was left the house we had in her will. The house was sold for me and Mr T wasted no time in offering me a ‘great opportunity’ of owning an apartment in London that he owned.  I believe the figure was around 17,000 British pounds for this little space that I only saw pictures of. However, as I said before, at this point in my life I was pretty naïve and trusting. Sara said I could trust him and that neither of them would ever do anything to hurt me. I don’t know if she lied or was just star-struck by this thug (some of his antics at competitions are still available online today). I had done so much for her and even a few bits for him, publicity-wise in the magazines – not to mention taking care of her house which I was not asked to do, I simply could not live in chaos. So yes, he/they took the money, and lo and behold he did not even own the apartment his father did and knew nothing about his son ‘selling’ it from under his feet. I did not get anything for my money. I moved back to Scotland and tried to sue him but of course, he declared bankruptcy so I did not get a penny back from the money my mother left me.
So that is how the 1980’s ended for me. Some losses, and some lessons, but mostly gains and an idea of where I wanted to spend the rest of my life. But in the meantime, it was back to Scotland for me and the beginning of what can best be described as thirteen years of limbo land and general unrest.