FAITH

This is a photo that I took on a recent holiday in St.Ives, Cornwall. It’s in Falmouth, looking seaward. I found myself with a mixture of reactions. One was to be struck by the beauty. Sea, rocks, open air, blue skies and, at least there, no Covid. (A good enough reason to be there!) But along with this was a sense of anxiety or trepidation. It was so big! This wasn’t a quiet harbour within sight of houses, people, civilisation. With a fish and chip shop a few hundred yards away. This, it seemed to me, was Eternity .Or at least one image of it. Open, boundless, seemingly infinite and self contained. It was totally oblivious to me or my responses. I could make no more impression on this scene that fly to the moon unaided. As Thoreau put it “We need the tonic of wildness… At the same time that we are earnest to explore. and learn all things, we require that all things be mysterious and unexplorable…” The sea always seems to me to so many things at once. In much the same way that Aslan was not a tame lion, so with the sea. It is not a tame creature. Whilst we were down there we had ample opportunity to witness the sea being frightening and awesome as well as calm and tranquil. It’s a salutary experience to watch a storm hitting the sea and watch the comfortable scene of yesterday turn into something much more formidable.

When I was thinking of the title for this piece, I was going to call it “Vision” because that’s the heart of this blog. But on consideration it seemed to me that Faith was more apt. A New Testament writer described faith as “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Heb. 13:8 KJV) That seems to fit with Vision. (And as another biblical writer put it “without a vision, the people perish” (Prov.29:18))

I recently read a novel by Isaac Asimov “The Naked Sun” in which an earthbound detective Elijah Baley is summoned to the planet Solaris to investigate a murder. Baley’s own planet is hugely overpopulated with almost no space unoccupied. Solaris is just the opposite. Huge areas are under populated. Baley has to struggle with his agoraphobia on Solaris. Being able to see the sky, open spaces, landscapes free of people frequently overwhelms him. Eventually he learns to appreciate the value of this kind of landscape-as well as solving the mysterious murders.

It is this novel that, for me, links Faith, the seascape and Vision. One of the hallmarks of good psychotherapy is that it invites us to explore our inner landscapes. To risk a new vision that might threaten to overwhelm us but which, with courage, might allow us to enjoy a new perspective. One that we had previously avoided. This risk is not confined to the therapy room. It’s the measure of our courage. To live with new landscapes and find a way of Being in them. This demands of us both faith and Vision.

Therapy as prayer

One of the things that I enjoy about writing a blog is choosing an image to complement the writing. Usually I type in my title and scroll through the various images and add my blog. This one proved more difficult. To the extent that it’s taken me 24 hours to understand what image I wanted. Initially I Googled “Therapy as Prayer” and was presented with an array of pictures. None of which I liked. People at prayer. Prayers to overcome being Gay. Prayers to help fight cancer. All a sorts of therapeutic uses of prayer, I suppose. But not one that conveyed my view of both therapy and prayer. Nor one that conveyed my idea of therapy as prayer. Then I was sitting in my car waiting for my wife to finish shopping, thinking of nothing in particular when it dawned on me. I knew the image! It was a sunrise. This conveyed my responses to both ideas- prayer and therapy.

Both prayer and therapy are, for me, about openness. Being open to the Light – with all the risks, excitements, disappointments that go with Being in the Light. I grew up in a religious culture that emphasised what I think of as “Slot machine prayer”. I put my prayer penny in the slot, wait a bit and then collect my gift. I may not always like the gift, but my penny will always win a prize of some kind. There is a danger that therapy can become the same. “Anxiety? Put your money in this slot and out will pop a solution.” Depression? The same. Anger? Ditto. Neither of these constitute the real work of prayer or therapy. To quote Mahatma Gandhi “Prayer is not asking. It is the longing of the soul… better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.” One could substitute “therapy” for prayer. To borrow again from another thinker, the psychotherapist Carl Rogers said “In my early professional years I was asking myself the question: How can I treat, or cure, or change this person? Now I would phrase the question in the way: How can I provide a relationship which this person may use for his own personal growth?”

Gandhi and Rogers both understood something about our relationship with ourselves and the Other. Both prayer and therapy are about what happens when we bring our whole selves into a relationship where we can freely think, explore, muse, play… the list of possibilities is long. And such a relationship is risky. When I sit to pray, I can’t know where that praying will take me. Who or what will I discover about myself and God. (And vice versa.) The same is true in therapy. When I sit down with my therapist, I can’t know where we will visit. (Nor does he! That’s the risk and the pleasure.)

This is a blog, not an essay the links between prayer and therapy. But I have much more that I want to share, so more blogs will follow. Come with me on a journey into the Other.

Jacob and his angel

I’ve always enjoyed the story of Jacob and his Angel. It speaks of a tenacity on Jacob’s part and a wish to forge a different identity for himself. His birth name is Jacob, meaning to follow or, less flattering, heel grabber! After his wresting match he becomes Israel – one who contends, who fights. (Which has resonances for the work of therapy. It takes energy and tenacity!)

In the Genesis story Jacob and his camp have settled down for the night en route to Canaan. Jacob leaves the camp and goes off by himself to a quiet place. (Not surprising given the size of his entourage.) Whilst here he encounters an Angel. Or possibly not an angel. The identity of Jacob’s opponent is unclear. From the Old Testament perspective we have three choices – an Angel, God or a man. In biblical terms there is a clear hierarchy. God sits at the top, angels next, followed by Man. It seems to me that what is being described in this story is Jacob’s struggle to find an identity. To forge a different name. (Which is one way of thinking about the struggle in therapy, a way to try to answer the question “Who am I?)

That there is this uncertainty over who or what Jacob is wrestling. In therapy we are always working with different aspects of our personality, and here, Jacob is wrestling with all that he is. The divine, the angelic and the mortal. (As ever Shakespeare put it so well in his speech in Hamlet where the prince muses “What is this quintessence of dust?”)

In Jacob we have the story of a man who wants an honourable name. He begins as a usurper and ends as a fighter. A man who has earned the right to a new name and a new identity. A good outcome that was hard won by a man who knew the value of a name. And the identity that goes with it.

Sin

Image courtesy of Biblical Christianity

I almost feel that I should apologise for this blog. Not because of its potential content but because it seems utterly disconnected to the last five blogs I’ve produced which were reflections on life with a broken leg. I’m reminded of the Radio 4 programme, In Our Time, where Melvyn Bragg spends 50 minutes each week discussing a random collection of ideas. One week we’re listening to a history of Prostitution, the next hearing about Cave paintings in Argentina followed by Monet and the Impressionists the following week. There never seems to be any link between topics. My hope is that this blog will link with the “Hobbling” series. I leave that judgement to others. In my mind I know where I’m going! (Let’s see if your mind agrees.)

So, to sin. (Or should that be Sin, with a capital ’S”? Perhaps it depends on the nature of the thing in question.) Augustine of Hippo defined sin as “a word, deed, or desire in opposition to the eternal law of God.” Plenty of room there to go wrong “… a word, deed, or desire in opposition to the eternal law of God.” Humanity is measured against some divine plumb line and judged accordingly. Reading through the Deuteronomic laws it’s hard to see what moral purpose is served by some of them. They often seem more “political” than “spiritual” designed to define the Israelites as different to their pagan neighbours. It is as much about cultural identity as religious or moral purity. The whole tenor of the Old Testament is put together to point to the coming of the Messiah in the person of Jesus, the sinless Man / God whose death on Calvary finally freed humanity from Sin. The free gift of Salvation is now ours (so long as we don’t look too closely at the small print.)

Is this really what our lives amount to? A perpetual struggle not to offend a divine being who can, at times, seem capricious and irascible. “Behold I was shaped in iniquity and in sin did my mother conceive me.” (Psalm 51:5) was one psalmist’s view of his status and value. My own mother would have been mortified if someone made this suggestion to her about my birth and conception. I was conceived in love and shaped by care and concern.

So, how might we consider “sin”? (Here’s a possible link to “Hobbling”.) The theologian Paul Tillich asked the rhetorical question “Why should I not throw away my dignity as a person , even destroy myself as a person?” His answer should be plastered on every billboard in every city, He writes “From the point of view of the holy, we do not belong to ourselves but to that which we come from and to which we return – the eternal ground of everything that is. This is the ultimate reason for the sacredness of the person and, consequently, for the unconditional character of the moral command not to destroy our essential being which is given to us and which we may disregard and destroy”

That’s a lot to absorb.The proverb “To thine own self be true” says something similar – although less well. Tillich is offering is a high view of humanity. We are, at best, grounded in the Divine. Connected to the Wholly Other. (In psychoanalytic terms we have Good objects inside us.) This is the point of connection between Hobbling and “God”. In my blogs on hobbling I described two meetings with two of my patients and their responses to the work. One was able to let me in – to internalise me as a Good object whom they could draw upon when necessary. The other was unwilling to grow or change.

I think it was Primo Levi who observed that those who managed to survive in the camps were those who still retained their humanity. Who, even when they had nothing, were willing to give to their fellow prisoners out of that nothingness. If they had half a piece of bread, they would share that half with someone who had none. (Truly an example of creation ex nihilo.) These men and women were still able to connect to the Ground of their Being. It kept them alive spiritually as well as physically.

I’ll make some more links between Sin and Hobbling in another blog, This one already has enough words.

Still taking my time

I wanted to carry on thinking about “hobbling,”something I’m becoming vey used to at the moment with my broken leg. I commented that the main problems with my leg occur when I’m in transition. Getting from one place to another requires a deep breath, a certain amount of swearing and considerable effort. Add anxiety to that list, depending on the transition being needed. Walking across my front room to the kitchen is relatively straightforward. There are chairs, doors, bookcases etc to hold on to. Walking into the garden is more challenging. I have to climb four steps and balance at the top or the bottom depending on where I’m going. This usually means my wife standing behind me or in front, offering me my zimmer or crutches which I grab thankfully as I totter up the garden.

I see these as transitional spaces, where I go from one place to another. When I think of the idea of a transitional zone, two different images come to mind. One is of athletics and the Relay. The other is of a baby beginning to crawl or walk. With the Relay, the runners have a limited space in which to pass on the baton. With a baby, nowhere is out of bounds once it begins to explore! The challenge is to contain it safely without spoiling its enthusiasm and curiosity.

In the Relay, the handover can determine the outcome of the whole race. Even Linford Christie can’t compensate for a dropped baton. There is nothing spontaneous about the transition. The runners practice. And practice. And practice. And even this is no guarantee of a wining run. Baby, however, is just as driven but from within. (And terrifyingly fearless, as every parent knows!) Everything is geared towards mobility and exploration. It is this life force that one sees as a therapist and which one tries to harness. As the therapy progresses, it is this energy that makes all the difference. Can they use it to help them through their transition zones? Therapy involves many transitions. Not the least being the sheer act of choosing therapy in the first place. To come to a complete stranger and begin to share one’s soul with them is no small task. “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” commented the author of the book of Hebrews. Much the same might be said of falling into the hands of a therapist! We hope to be caught by a pair of safe and caring hands. Freud said of psychoanalysis that “One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as most beautiful.” He was right. But it requires courage. And energy. To be willing to explore one’s inner world and use this process creatively is risky. Far safer to never try and move from one place to another. To stay moribund whilst one’s world shrinks. But whilst there is little or no pain this way, neither is there growth and development.

The challenge for both therapist and patient is to strengthen the will to move. To invest in the Life instinct (eros) rather than the Death instinct (thanatos). Which as we all know, is sometimes easier to say than to do!

No Fixed Abode

I recently revisited the Barbara Hepworth sculpture garden in St. Ives. And, as usual, was delighted by it. Whilst I find her work intellectually challenging, if I simply allow myself to respond to it instinctively I can make sense of them. Which is, of course, exactly how I work as a therapist. My patient comes to see me. I listen. As much intuitively as intellectually. In time my listening is processed and I can formulate a thought. A tentative suggestion. The psychoanalyst Wilfred Bion came up with a classic comment about a clinical work. His maxim was that one should approach a session with neither memory or desire. (A maxim that has made my life much simpler at times!) It’s very easy when presented with a “diagnosis” to jump to assumptions. Better to meet the person and worry about diagnostic labels later.

So, to return to Hepworth. I was looking at the sculpture in the picture and trying to respond to its complexity. I love its fluidity and sensuality. Its sense of motion. (It was Goethe who said that architecture is frozen music. The Hepworth piece fits that so well.) For this blog I looked up a definition of a Mobus strip. Wikipedia told me that it is “… a one sided nonorientable surface obtained by cutting a closed band into a single strip.” Which is a perfectly accurate physical description of the thing. I could describe Hepworth’s piece in similar terms. And fail to miss the meaning of it. (Or at least the shared meaning we created that morning in her garden.)

One of the things that delights me about this sculpture is its solidness yet its fragility. It’s a relatively small piece which sits happily on a plinth. Unlike some of her more monumental pieces which are the size of trees. I like this mix in her work. I was reminded of the lines in T.S.Eliot’s poem Four Quartets.

“We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time”

The work of psychotherapy is so often to bring the patient back to their beginning and allow them to know it for the very first time.Which brings us back to Hepworth’s piece which is about Endings and Beginnings. And of knowing where we come from and where we belong. Hence the title of this blog. As Mary Angelo put it “If you don’t know where you’ve come from, you don’t know where you’re going.”

The root of our word “hysteria” has its roots in the Greek idea of a “floating womb”. The sense that women, in particular, had no fixed centre and were prone to emotional ills. It still is a good metaphor – if bad physiology – for a sense of uncentredness. And thus a proneness to emotional disturbance. This uncentredness is not unique to women – despite the view of the Greeks. I see many ”hysterical” men as well. A lack of a stable core is not a gender specific issue!

I shall follow up some of these ideas in the next blog. Meanwhile, please feel free to comment on this piece and any other of my blogs.

The Enemy Within

I’ve recently been watching a Manga cartoon about a young man called Baki Hanma who is a martial arts fighter of some talent and renown. There are some interesting sub-themes about self worth and how one finds it. There are also echoes of Freud’s death instinct (Thanatos.)

As the picture above shows, Freud’s idea can be seen in a variety of ways, some curative and helpful. At other times thoroughly destructive. Like all our drives. The Baki series consists mainly of impossibly muscled martial arts fighters attempting to destroy all their opponents and emerge as the One. (Along with this is a wish to know defeat. A possible expression of Thanatos? Perhaps there is a curious relief in knowing that one can be defeated? A reminder of one’s mortality? As Shakespeare’s Henry IV says “Uneasy lies the head that bears the crown.”.)

A film critic offers this summary of Baki, “Five of the world’s most violent and brutal death row inmates are gathering to face Baki. Their objective is to taste defeat – their unmatched strength and skill have led them to become bored of life itself, and they now seek out Baki in the hopes that he can overwhelm them and utterly crush them.” (Greenlight Factory)

One sequence in the film caught my attention. Two of the protagonists are in combat. Biscuit Oliva is fighting Yurijo Hanma. We watch Oliva display a dazzling array of moves: kicks, blocks, punches, lightning fast ducks and swerves in a display that would shame any of our current WWF champions. Sadly, Oliva is not fighting the real opponent, who stands behind him watching. Hanma has hypnotised him (although why is not clear). Thus Biscuit is fighting the fight he believes he needs to, in order to win. Hanma is behind him, watching. It is a rather sad vignette but one which struck me as full of psychological meaning.

As a therapist I see many people in distress. I see men who have problems with their anger and women who have problems with anxiety and depression. In most cases the men have an angry father and grandfather standing behind them whilst the women have a depressed and anxious mother and grandmother. In these cases, my patient is fighting the wrong battle. Their challenger is standing behind them watching whilst they tire themselves out fighting the foe only they can see. (But who is still real and alive.)

In the Manga version, Biscuit Oliva is certain that he is triumphing over his opponent. How can he not win? He fights so hard and with such focus, employing his vast strength along with every move he has in his repertoire.. Sadly the real enemy stands behind him. Watching. Unseen. Unaffected. So many of my patients are doing the same. Fighting the battle they believe they have to fight. A husband who doesn’t love them properly. A wife who is out at work all day and “neglects” them. Children who will insist on being their own people.

Much of my work is in helping my patient to understand that they are fighting themselves. The enemy is not Anger or Depression or Anxiety. These are shadows and formidable but not the real challenge. The work is to help them see that they are fighting a shadow who, whilst a part of themselves, is not the Truth about them. With this realisation, the work can then continue. The work is of self-acceptance, of choosing when a battle has to be fought or when to walk away. To use their energy to heal and not destroy.

And before I leave, may I offer my apologies if I have misnamed my fighters. I am not an expert on Manga in general and Baki in particular. If you’re enticed into the world of Baki, he can be found on Baki./Official Netflix Site.

Less is more

I’ve been working with an Alexander technique teacher for six months or so. It’s a fascinating process, being a novice again. I know about psychoanalysis. I did this for about a decade. I have a sense of the rhythms and timing here. I have a theoretical frame or map to help me. I know when I don’t want to think about something and at least a sense of why. (Which doesn’t make it any easier!)

“Change involves carrying out an activity against the habit of life.”
(F M Alexander)

So, what is the Alexander Technique? I’ll quote from someone else commenting on the Alexander Technique

“The Alexander Technique is a way of learning to move mindfully through life. The Alexander process shines a light on inefficient habits of movement and patterns of accumulated tension, which interferes with our innate ability to move easily and according to how we are designed.”

So at its simplest, the technique is a way of realigning our minds and bodies to work more harmoniously. What could be easier? Mountain climbing; cross channel swimming; endurance running. All these and more come to mind. I don’t want to suggest that the Alexander technique is physically challenging or demanding. At one level it’s not. It is manageable for a three year old or a ninety year old. At another level it’s one of the most challenging things I’ve done. Why? That answer is in the title of this blog. “Less is more”.

My teacher’s favourite phrase is “Do less, Terry.” Initially this infuriated me. “I’m here to learn the Alexander technique” was my thought and my rejoinder. “How am I supposed to learn by doing less? Everything else needs me to do more. To stretch my back three times a day. To climb more hills on my bike. To go to the gym more frequently. How the hell do I learn by ‘doing less’?” (It felt like the image of the sound of one hand clapping.)

So, what has this to do with psychotherapy?

Many years ago I had a patient who really didn’t need to see me. His wife should have come instead. My patient’s “problem” was his wife. “She does too much. She always has to be doing something. The children have to be perfect. The house must be spotless. She must be brilliant at her work. It’s driving us both mad! But she can’t stop. Help!”

I listened for a while and quoted the psychoanalyst Winnicott’s maxim about being “good enough.” A good enough mother, wife, cook, employee etc. “Good enough” is good enough. I wondered if he thought his wife might find this idea helpful.

“Oh yes,” he replied “She tries very hard to be Good enough!”

At this point I put my metaphorical head in my metaphorical hands and let out a long and anguished metaphorical howl! How ironic and how sad that she managed to turn a potentially liberating maxim into a persecutory commandment. Except that I understand how she felt – in some ways. My Alexander teacher is always telling me “Do less, Terry” as she lifts up my arm. Or gets me to stand still and lifts up my neck. Whenever I try to help her, she tells me “Do less” and each time I try to “do less”! For a long time I thoroughly resented her “commandment” to do less. (Along with keeping my neck loose and long and one or two other “exercises”.) I turned “do less” into a super ego driven “Thou shalt…” and found that slowly but surely, I was angry at having to ‘do less”. “It’s my neck and I can carry myself any way I choose.”

Slowly but surely, I‘m beginning to enjoy “doing less”. And am amused at how easily I turned her into a ‘bad object’. Someone who was persecutory rather than nourishing. I’ve got a way to go yet. I have no plans to train as an Alexander teacher. (My psychotherapy training was demanding enough. As is my work as a therapist.) But I might just stick with my teacher and her ‘Do less” maxim.

Light and Shadow

“Filling the conscious mind with ideal conceptions is a characteristic of Western philosophy, but not the confrontation with the shadow and the world of darkness. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light , but by making the darkness conscious.” (Carl Jung)

The two pictures above play with this idea of Light and Shade. The National Galley in London has been running an exhibition on Leonardo da Vinci’s painting “Virgin of the Rocks”. It was a delight. I wish I’d gone sooner than I did. But I went in the end! The two figures are the same head with different lighting. It is an interactive part of the display where one can control the amount of light shining in the booths. It picks up on one of the central themes about Light and Shadow. (You can see why this interests me as a psychotherapist!) The exhibition has a quotes from Da Vinci writ large on one of the walls. It says “He who avoids shadow avoids what is the glory of art.” I wanted to change it to “He who denies shadow avoids what is the glory of humanness”. 

Freud observed that the point of psychoanalysis is to make conscious the unconscious. Jung suggested that “One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making darkness conscious.” The work of therapy isn’t necessarily to make us happy. It is to make us conscious. Or as Freud so cheerfully put it “To turn neurotic misery into ordinary unhappiness.” Having spent many years of my life trying be Good and a Christian and to allow that I might be “a miserable sinner”, it is now a great relief to simply get on with being Human. One of my many difficulties with Christianity was that I never could see myself as a Sinner. (And, mostly, not as a miserable one!) I always found this a most unhelpful idea. Particularly when working in mental health where so many of our patients were already feeling beaten and persecuted by Life. To then come along and pronounce them “Sinners” always seemed at best unhelpful. At worst, cruel.

So, where does this link with Da Vinci and the lovely exhibition of his painting? Simply the awareness of the value of both light and shadow. It is not possible to have one without the other. Light gives Shadow. Shadow gives Light. The interactive heads are fascinating because as one changes the light, so the head appears different. As the light increases or decreases, aspects of the head change. As does its shadow. It is one of the challenging elements of the work of therapy. We all enjoy hearing about our generous, healthy, loving side. We less enjoy hearing about our greed, our rage, our hatred. Yet the task of a therapist is to bring to our patients’ awareness both sides of their personality. (It’s one of the reasons why, as therapists, we all have to have had our own time in therapy. It can be painful, distressing, liberating, healing, but in any event, absolutely essential!)

I recently quoted the pilgrim father, John Robinson’s words to one of my patients. We were reflecting on the work they have so far done in their therapy with me. Robinson said, of the Bible: “the Lord hath more light and truth to break forth from His holy word.” I commented that this seemed like a good description of our work together and of our future work. They agreed. 

If I had a glass in my hand I would now propose a toast “To Light and Shade!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Little Bo Peep. The untold story.

We all know the Bo Peep nursery rhyme and, of course, there is a story behind it. It was originally a smugglers song. (So says Albert Jack in his book “Pop Goes the Weasel. The secret Meaning of Nursery Rhymes.”) But what is less well known is the more contemporary meaning of this rhyme.

This version concerns one Robert Peep, only child of Mary and George Peep who were a farming family, Mainly sheep but with a scattering of other livestock. Robert obviously grew up around the farm and learned his trade from his parents who assumed that he would take on the farm after them. Robert had other ideas. As children do.. By the time he was 16 he was tall and big. 6’ 3”  tall  (or1.9 m for younger readers) and weighed a healthy 14 stone (or 88 kgs). A big lad. And he had his eyes on the armed forces He’d been an ATC cadet at school and thoroughly enjoyed it. (It did no harm with the girls either. Who can resist a uniform?) So, when he could he joined up for twelve years with the army. His parents were saddened but phlegmatic, hoping that he might come back and carry on the farm. One day. Robert had his own ideas. Farming was not one of them.

He did well in the army. He liked the discipline. The sense of camaraderie; the physical and mental challenges. He grew up in it. He applied to join the  SAS in his middle twenties. And was accepted.. Again he shone here. His size was an advantage as was his tenacity. He rarely or never failed to complete a mission of any kind. Be that rescuing a comrade from behind enemy lines or being the last man standing in a drinking contest.

Being in the SAS meant he soon acquired a nickname. Ir was a mark of respect and affection. So, Robert became Bo. You can guess the rest. Bo Peep inevitably gained “Little”.. So was born the legend that Little Bo Peep had joined the SAS. The nickname stuck. Which was fine with Rob. Up to a point. He’d take it from his regiment and one or two others.But there he drew the line. You crossed it at your own risk. As a number of people discovered.

So that’s one half ofter story of Little Bo Peep. There is, however, another strand to this tale. In the late 1980’s the LGBT community were growing in number and influence. They could be found not only in closets but also “out.” Most of us knew at least one or two people in this community. The forces were no exception. Although one kept quiet if possible. Closed communities can be very intolerant of “difference”. Being LGBT was “different”. Which slowly brings us closer to the Bo Peep story.

When he leaves the SAS aged fifty, Rob has known no other life. His whole being is defined by it. Like the proverbial Blackpool rock, Rob has Army written all through. From the cropped hair, to his  Winged dagger tattoo to the knife he always carries in his boot top. He’s Army.  Only now he’s not. He’s plain Robert Peep. Looking for… something. He does door security for a while. But gets bored.His attitude is “You’re welcome to have a go at me. I don’t know how it will go because nobody has ever bothered. But feel free to try.” He thinks but doesn’t add “Make my day, punk.”

Curiously, the one club he enjoys working for is the “Fan and Feathers”. The local LGBT meeting place. The people are always polite and courteous. He’s often been here at one or two in the morning drinking and listening to their stories.There’s Jo Jo, a drag queen who flirts appallingly with him. Then Mike and Pete. Both civil servants and hoping to get married at some point. (Although gay marriage is a long way off.) Then Michaela and James. A straight couple but who have an “Open” marriage. How open is a matter for conjecture in the Fan and Feathers community. “Can you ever be too open, darling?” enquires Jo Jo archly, giving Bo a knowing wink. Bo smiles back at her. Him. Whatever. Plain Jo Jo. He feels safe here. He knows that these people are also trying to fit in with “normal”.

And here we end the first part of Little Bo Peep’s new story.