School – 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

Selfie Queen

This poem is probably one of the most personal ones I’ve ever written. It recalls a childhood memory from my primary school years and shows just how far I’ve come in the time since I was afraid to show myself in my class photograph. It was recently published in the Wee Dreich 5 anthology and it’s titled Selfie Queen I hope you enjoy the read as much as the young female footballer who encouraged me to write it.

Selfie Queen.

School Photograph
primary years
in the summer of 72
cloudless skies
disguise one child’s inhibitions
sitting in the front row
their face is hidden
from the camera
as friends and classmates smile
who knew the boy
ashamed to be seen
in a childhood memory
would in later years become a selfie queen
and share her new pictures on Instagram

Stirrings

In this poem which I’ve titled Stirrings I look at how the teenage trans girl of the mid to late 70’s learned from the music of the original disco queen Donna Summer that even trans girls can be bisexual and how I managed to embrace this side of myself without ever revealing it to anyone. I hope you enjoy the read.

Stirrings

It was Donna Summer who confirmed
my attraction to women
I knew had stirrings
Since the day I looked at Marie
as well as her brother
You know from America’s first musical family
I was at what my mother called a dangerous age
Questioning my sexuality was according to her logic
The kind of thing movie stars got paid to do
But it wasn’t real life Hollywood wives she said
Had far too much fun and got way too much sex
Without having to face the responsibility
Of the women and girls she knew
If she thought that society shared her view
On these topics boy was she in for a shock
The truth is I was ready to rock her world
To its very foundations
I experienced tingling sensations
Beyond both her imaginations and comprehension
I was open to suggestions and invitations from all
I would answer nature’s call
In whatever way it called me
I fancied Donny And Marie but it wasn’t till Donna came along
I knew I felt love for them both and realised
How unkind some choices can be.

Thunder Clouds

In this poem for National Coming Out Day I relate the story of knowing I didn’t fit in to the gender box society had selected for me before my age even reached double digits and being smart enough to know what to say and what not to say in those socially conservative times. I also suggest the knowledge gained in my pre teen years may have made my teenage years a lot safer and easier to navigate than may otherwise have been the case. I’ve given it the title Thunder Clouds due to the nature of my Presbyterian upbringing in the Scotland of the 1970’s I hope you enjoy the read.

Thunder Clouds

Long before the Osmonds I knew
though there was a difference
between knowing and saying .
in those days you didn’t tell the world
you wanted to be a girl.
Imagine what the neighbours would say
let alone your friends in school
it wasn’t cool to come out
or be proud of who you were
at such a young age
god help you if you said it out loud
you would either be patronised
and told it was just a phase
or warned that thunder clouds would strike you down
for the shame you would bring on the family
sexuality was never discussed
except to mock those perceived as different
and anyway you were assumed to be innocent
till at least your high school years
the days when fears plagued your teens
concerned that you’d be found out
and somehow they would know
by the way you looked
or the jokes you never told
now older and wiser you realise
there was a difference between knowing and saying
and they were only acting the roles
for which they had been conditioned
the parts society had auditioned them to play
you forgave them their sins
on the night you came out as a woman
on behalf of the girl they had never met
or never thought they had
the girl you knew you were
long before the Osmonds
and every day there after.

Place In The Pews

In this poem I look at the topic of faith which was suggested by Hannah Louise Murtagh, in particular I examine the issues around coming out as a transwoman when you come from a faith based background. This is not an easy road to walk and can be fraught with complexities but it’s my belief that god never gives you anything you can’t handle. I’ve given it the title Place In The Pews, I hope you enjoy the read.

Place In The Pews

She followed the rules
all through her school
and early adult years
pillows patterned by tears
she feared coming out to the world
she was skilled in the art of denial
lying to herself every day
she prayed for acceptance
asked to be respected by others
friends, neighbours, family
her sexuality would be questioned
but this wasn’t the same
explaining the issues could be complexed
to those afraid of change
she knew a few would find it strange
to see her as she saw herself
she prepared for the worst
while hoping for the best
as she confessed her sins to god
surviving on the faith that sustained her
she had a place in the pews
she claimed it on the promises of god
no longer the odd one out
she thought she was in her youth
now she speaks her truth
as shadows fade slowly
from photographs
which will never be posted on Instagram

Women Of Wisdom (A Poem For International Women’s Day ).

I wrote this poem on International Women’s Day to celebrate some of the best women I know or have ever known. These women come from all walks of life from family to football, from poetry to politics, but make no mistake they have earned there place in this poem which I have titled Women Of Wisdom and by the end of it I think you’ll know me a lot better than you already do even if you’ve known me for years. I hope you enjoy the read.

Women Of Wisdom (A Poem For International Women’s Day )

My maternal gran
left school at the age of nine
having learned all she was allowed
she was proud to be red Jess
a woman who fought for equality
in the years between the wars
with the banner of justice held high
for the Scotland of MacLean

my paternal gran made enough soup
to feed the close
and brought her children up
in the faith of our fathers and theirs
she taught them the value
of sharing what they had
and being glad for the grounding they received
in doing whatever they could do help others

my auntie Helen was my mum’s older sister
she moved to Manchester during the war
to work in munitions
eventually agoraphobia would keep her prisoner
in the home she seldom left
and hardly ever stopped cleaning

my mother worked in engineering
as an inspector Clouseau had nothing on her
never missing a trick
when it came to keeping me in line
even if it was a struggle to deal
with a bolshie trans daughter
who had very definite opinions on almost everything
and wasn’t afraid to tell you
exactly what they were and why
she held those beliefs

Mrs Dowling was the English teacher
who opened my eyes to the world
as she taught me the meaning of poetry
introducing me to Lochhead and a world beyond Burns
where women’s voices were
not only listened to but respected
for what they had to say and stories only they could ever tell

Margo was my earliest political heroine
a woman of independent mind
her fight for Scotland’s independence
inspired the teenaged me
to campaign for freedom and fairness
as I continue to do to this day
in honour of the legacy that inspired generations
to believe we could do better

Fiona was the artistic director
who helped me to express myself
during workshops in the Gallowgate
then eventually on stage
inducting me in the ways of theatre and especially voice projection
for maximum power and effect

Janette is the flatmate and friend
who knows both my weaknesses and strengths
though sometimes I don’t think
she knows her own
especially her good points
of which she has more than a few
though supporting a team in light blue may not be one of them

Sam would disagree with that last comment
and get away with it
well she plays for that team
I am trying so hard not to mention
creative licence means it’s not always easy to avoid suggesting
who they might be
let’s just say they aren’t Glasgow City or Celtic or even Partick Thistle
and blow the whistle now
before some people see their name
through my carefully constructed disguise

Ailie is always there when required
a friend who encourages me
to aim higher in every possible way
shoot for the stars every day
and accept myself for who I am
embracing my identity without compromise
to please the opinions of those
who’ll never really matter

Stacey is the superstar stylist
who tries to find bargains
to flatter my figure on a budget
I don’t know how she does it
I only know that she does
she never gives up
till I’m looking my best
and I really am dressed to impress

Pamela was and still is the writing mentor
who initially nurtured my creativity
persuading me to test my ability
in ways beyond what I thought was possible
preparing me for leadership
and the day I would mentor others

Lesley discovered the power of a women’s collective
to put this in perspective
we were fierce in our words and in our friendships
self censorship was not allowed
we were women and as a transwoman I was proud to be included
with these women of wisdom

Leanne has a vision of a kinder world
where poverty no longer exists
her christian faith by which she lives the rock of principled beliefs
for a woman of the book

Patricia plays the flute
schooling future generations to do the same .
to be proud of their tunes and their heritage
and not let a beautiful instrument be tainted
by those who scar the summer
when puppets march in malice

Laura is a fiddler known in her field
as one of brightest stars
in the traditional music community
an ally to others who need support
in personal battles
she has always championed the rights
of those who need lights shone
to navigate safely to the shore

Rachel sings and writes songs
on environment , community , and belonging
with a warmth that makes you want
to listen
to both the lyrics and the melodies
as it establishes connections
between audience and performer
whilst stilling the souls
of those who see her concerts

Hayley is a gifted footballer
standing tall as any man
who has ever played the game
she works in the caring profession
as women players don’t get
the fame their talents deserve
not in this country at least not yet
a star both on and off the park
she’s a team player who always hits the net
when it comes to supporting friends

Jen is much more than a co-host for our event
a loyal friend she is blessed with kindness and compassion
and editing skills beyond my reach
a double act was born on discovering
we shared a passion for the craft
now we support each other to express ourselves without inhibitions
as Pamela’s prediction is fulfilled
and having come full circle
I am the one doing the mentoring
she will one day give as a gift
to those who will follow the path we are currently traveling

Homework By Candlelight

In this poem I travel back in time to 1973 and in particular to the winter of that as I recall a time of pre teen dreams and why power cuts and the miners strike were my first real introduction to politics and the fact that though neither of them were Tories my mum and dad had very different visions of the future. I’ve titled it Homework By Candlelight I hope you enjoy the read.

Homework By Candlelight

It was a cold winter that year
frosty mornings commonplace
as I recall
it was worse in the fog
for someone with a tendency to fall
more often than I’d like
the miners strike
meant homework by candlelight
my mother moaned that some nights
she would miss coronation street
she seemed to think that this twice a week treat
was her connection to her sister in Manchester
I was more of a top of the pops fan myself
well I was naive enough to dream
having not yet reached my teens
of a kinder more equal world
I kept my girlhood quiet
though hormones ran riot
at a time of conflicting emotions
in a home where colours were displayed
that had nothing to do with football

Beetroot Complexion

This poem takes me back to my high school days and the winter of 74 and a secret was revealed without me saying a word as I stood at the side of the pitch to watch the boys play football I’ve given it the title Beetroot Complexion I hope you enjoy the read.

Beetroot Complexion

It was the winter of 74
on a freezing cold day
I stood on the sidelines
as the boys played football

some of them had skills to match their looks
my first year heart fluttered
as the chill winds blew the last remaining leaves
from trees now shadows
of their late summer glory

just before half time I’m joined
by two girls from my class
who chat with a boy they know
before going to the shed for a smoke

one of them noticed my Bay City Rollers scarf
she asked an uncomfortable question
I blushed at her suggestion
my beetroot complexion
answering without the need for words

Straight Lines

As this is National Poetry Day I thought I would write a new poem on this year’s theme of vision. There may not be a live event this year because of Covid, but a poet has to do what a poet has to do. I’ve given it the title Straight Lines and there are some titles of some my previous poems in the text as I’m sure you’ll be able to spot I hope you enjoy the read

Straight Lines

I knew from an early age
I had a stage
on which I needed to perform
to share my Spoken Words
speak my truths
let those willing to listen
understand my stories
why I hated the Tories
and loved my mum’s Lemon Dress
how the work in at the UCS
turned a primary school child
in to a political activist
who would send a Letter To Earth
and always put Tights Before Trident
a rebel I would never be silenced
or told I had to please others
and put myself last
my restless heart knew
the full mix of emotions
was a gift given to creatives
which others viewed as the curse of dreamers and thinkers
no wonder so many are driven to drink
though not me shopping has always been my addiction of choice
a poet I will use my voice to help others discover themselves
in whatever way they must
at school I put my trust in teachers
who taught me of Lochhead and Morgan
I will sometimes give trigger warnings
In case my content offends
those who live in bubbles
as my honesty may trouble or even shock them
in their gated communities
where minds are as narrow
as the garden paths
that led the privilege they enjoy
so yes I do go to Ann Summers
to buy sex toys
I thought that line
would capture attention
just remember that imagination
is the mother of invention
and creativity its younger sister
the late developer of the family
who explores identity , nature and sexuality
in ways thought knows but will never freely speak
for fear of reprimand
from a dad who wears the Clothes Of An Honest Man
and a mother who constantly complains about the Dress Sense of her daughters
even though she taught them The Art Of Wearing Make Up
and how to use words as Camouflage
to disguise what they don’t want others to discover
from my youngest years
I took comfort in books and magazines
to escape the scheme I grew up in
ignoring those who claimed
I would amount to nothing
knowing my worth
never believed creativity was a curse
or even worse a plague
I knew I had a stage
on which I needed to shine
and the girl who couldn’t draw a straight line
in her art class
still can’t
you see art taught me
straight lines
are for narrow minds
and as a poet I need to think bigger
than those with limited horizons

Language Of The Times

In this poem I travel back to the mid to late 1970’s as I look at why my youth was a challenging time for a trans teen who knew I was but also know what the world could and couldn’t accept as I reluctantly played by the rules. I’ve titled it Language Of The Times I hope you enjoy the read

Language Of The Times

In the 70’s tough talk was
the language of the times
my dad called me half pint
I think he must have known
all was not as it seemed
for a troubled teen tormented by biology
liking things I wasn’t supposed to like
wearing tights and frilly knickers under trousers
would make a social leper of me
to testosterone fuelled boys
who enjoyed teasing anyone who didn’t fit the bill

I got on better with girls
and was more at home
in secretarial studies
than woodwork or technical drawing
and knew the value
of accessorising lingerie
long before I was allowed to wear anything flattering.
my mother had rules
both in school and at home
there were things that nice girls don’t do
so she told me if I wanted to live a girl’s life
then I needed to learn how to be a wife
and not be so rebellious
and yes sex which I should avoid until legally wed
even though I thankfully couldn’t get pregnant
would be sore
once a night to start with then eventually
twice a week and no more
it was a duty to be endured not a pleasure to be enjoyed
as for my teens there would be no kissing boys
as it would interfere with homework and studies
and time to read women’s magazine
to teach me what I needed to be taught

not that such chances ever came up in those days
when songs of praise was her idea of Sunday night TV
well there was one boy in my class I really liked
though I never got the chance to invite him to dinner
at least he was spared the ordeal
of meeting the family
in the days when sexuality was never discussed
but I blushed on seeing the Bay City Rollers on top of the pops.

the I like them because they’re Scottish
never did quite wash
especially so soon after loving the Osmonds
and the dad who called me half pint
knew more than he let on
though he never teased me about my taste
or asked what one I fancied
he knew a lady never tells
even years later there are certain things a woman keeps to herself
or only shares with girls
and what happened at the high school disco
will remain a secret between her and the boy
with whom she shared that special moment
I know she will take to the grave