Freedom – Skirtingroundmylife

Skirting Round My Life 2021 My Year On The Blog

As I look back on the events of 2021 I have to say that it wasn’t the year I or anyone hoped or expected it would be. These past 12 months have been a difficult year for us all and this continues to be reflected in Skirting Round My Life as it has in every blog, journal , magazine or other news outlets.

On looking at the statistics, this year has seen Skirting Round My Life on a bit of downward trajectory which I think was to be expected given the circumstances. Hopefully this will change in the next 12 months. Though that will, to a certain extent at least, depend on things opening up a bit post Covid and providing me with more opportunities to enjoy myself and post about my exciting experiences.

The first thing to say that Skirtingroundmylife gained 2, 507 views in 2020. This represented an drop of 16% from it’s 2020 total of 3,018. Though disappointed with the drop I am not in the least bit surprised as continued uncertainty from Covid19 played havoc with our lives and restrictions on what we could and couldn’t do meant opportunities for growth were very severely limited.

This lack of opportunity resulted in a very dramatic drop in the number of posts in the last twelve months as they fell by almost half from 98 to 50. It can also be said that the number of both visitors to the site and comments on posts are both down with the later dropping from 28 to 16 and likes falling by more than 60% from 83 to 36

Topics covered in the last twelve months included Acceptance, Age, Bisexuality, Childhood, Christmas, Coming Out, Ceilidhs, Concerts, Covid19, Crossdressers, Dancing , Dating, Death, Discrimination, Equality, Faith, Fashion, Friendship, Grandparents, Holidays, Lockdown, Love, Memories, Mental Health, Poetry, Relationships, Secrets, Sensuality, Sex, Sexism, Sexuality, Stereotypes, Transition, Transphobia, Visibility, Women,

2021 again saw a slight dip in my global reach as visiting nations were slightly down from 31 in 2020 to 27 last year. The top five countries were UK , USA, Ireland, Germany and Finland, with Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Guernsey, and Sweden. making up the top ten. There were also readers from countries including France, Croatia The Philippines, Denmark, Colombia, Peru, Norway, India, and Poland amongst other nations who paid this a visit

As all the statistics have now properly evaluated it is time to bring this review to its conclusion but before I do so I just want thank all my readers. Whether you subscribe to the site or read the posts on social media sites like Facebook or Twitter it doesn’t really matter, the main thing is that you read them and find them entertaining, enjoyable , thought provoking and maybe in some cases challenging. I really hope you’ll continue to do so as that’s what makes blogging so enjoyable for those us who put our opinions out there on the blogosphere for you to read. So all that remains is for me to wish you A Happy, Successful, and Peaceful New Year and I hope you’ll keep skirting round my life throughout 2022 and beyond .

Till next time

Gayle X

Dirty Dancing

In this poem which is my first of an erotic nature I take a trip back in time to the mid to late 1980’s as a twenty something explored her sexuality and discovered more about herself with a bit of dirty dancing than her mother could possibly have dreamed of , and from that day on knew there were places known to her which had previously been beyond her imagination. I’ve given it the title Dirty Dancing I hope you enjoy the read.

Dirty Dancing

There was something about Swayze
Like there was something with Kylie or Madonna
The provocative allure was there in the magnetism
Just like when the Chippendales made me blush
In that forbidden way
That I never told my mother
Yet she still seemed to know
Some mother and daughter secrets Are best left unspoken
Especially when the daughter is trans
And would have liked to invite Swayze back to her place
For a night of dirty dancing
With a do not disturb sign on the door

Saturday Ceilidh

This poem was written after a chat with my friend and award winning traditional musician Paddy Callaghan. In it, I look at my teenage Saturday nights and show how the early part of those nights shaped my interest in and love for the traditional music scene both in Scotland and beyond. I’ve titled it Saturday Ceilidh I hope you enjoy the read.

Saturday Ceilidh

In my teens I reached that stage
when Saturday nights were made for dancing
even for those who couldn’t dance
though I loved the songs in the charts
I was slowly but surely developing
a passion for the traditional music
of my country
it was on this voyage of discovery
I learned stories of clearances emigration and war
and that Scotland had not always
been tied to the yoke of union
but fought to preserve our freedom.
till nobles took the bribe
from the Glasgow of the Barras and Red Clydeside
I learned songs of protest and humour
and the story of the rumour
is the greatest monologue ever told
comedy gold crafted with subtlety
I heard tales of the drudgery
of the workers lot
and the way they were told by McDonald and McGinn
made entertaining listening
my feet resisted the temptation
to tap along to Jimmy Shand
I’m sure the laird would understand
my reluctance to the learn the steps
of the jigs and reels
though I appreciated the music
that was played in my Saturday Ceilidh
where I heard every Glen Daly track bar the one I now hear at Paradise
and the Irish songs that made it past the censor
with bits of England, Canada and America
occasionally added to the mix
from 6 till 8 on Saturdays
in the days when I listened to music
to escape from football chat
and the Saturday night TV
I never wanted to watch

No Flowers

In this poem I share my thoughts on why my mother had difficulty with my gender identity and eventual transition. To be fair to her I think it may to some extent at least have a generational thing and a significant part of it may have to due to the social and cultural conditioning which was part and parcel of being a presbyterian growing up in post war climate of Scotland and the UK. I’ve given it the title No Flowers I hope you enjoy the read

No Flowers

She mourned at the loss of her boy
the son she thought she had
there were no flowers at the graveside
to her grief was private
she needed time to cry
tears of sorrow and confusion
she didn’t understand how it could happen
after all the God she believed in
though not enough to go to church
had told her in the bible
he created them man and women
there was no in between
soon she was sure
she would waken up from this dream
with her son returning to be
the boy she had raised and the man she still loved
the truth is that he found closets
far too limiting
restricting her from coming to terms
with what she had always known
but had been too afraid to show
friends protected her from
occasional storms of hate
there were no flowers at the graveside
no funeral for the son who never died
nor celebrations for the daughter
who had no choice but to take the step
and finally be herself

Tolerated

This poem was inspired by Calum Robertson as we chatted at Bogha Frois on the last night of Celtic Connections. During our chat Calum who was introduced to me by the brilliant upcoming fiddle player Laura Wilkie said that it was lovely to be at a traditional music event where everyone could be themselves and be accepted for who they are rather than just tolerated at and excluded from events. Not surprisingly I agreed with him and said that though I had always felt accepted in the traditional music community I was genuinely shocked at the amount of people who said that wasn’t the case for them. It is with this conversation very much in mind I have decided to title it Tolerated I hope you enjoy the read

Tolerated

but never fully accepted

or included in conversations

with family and friends

let alone colleges and neighbours

well your just not sure where to start

for fear of embarrassment

I was told by well meaning friends of my mother

who claimed people would be ashamed

if they had one of them in the family

clueless about gender identity

she no doubt guessed my sexuality

and got it gloriously wrong

but it wouldn’t stop her and others like her

believing the myths and stereotyping

which lead to prejudice

each to their own they say

praying that their son is not gay

or even worse transgender

these defenders of the faith

who never set foot in a church

but skirt round equality

like it’s something best avoided

make judgements on the unemployed

with others they claim don’t fit in

we are accused of stealing rainbows and unicorns

tolerated but never respected

never accepted

just tolerated with lip service paid

to the right to be treated like everyone else

it was ever thus and shall remain that way

a community locked out of society

tolerated in the Lavender ghettos

which are marked unsafe for their sons and daughters

by the guardians of public morality