Susan Boyle - The Woman I Was Born to Be

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Boyle, Susan.

The woman I was born to be : my story / Susan Boyle.

p. cm.

1. Boyle, Susan, 1961 2. SingersScotlandBiography. I. Title.

ML420.B763A3 2010b

782.42164092dc22 2010936465

[B]

ISBN 978-1-4516-0925-7

ISBN 978-1-4516-0927-1 (ebook)

For my mother

My name is Susan Boyle. A year and a half ago, if you werent from Blackburn, the village in West Lothian, Scotland, where I have lived all my life, you would almost certainly never have heard of me. Today youve probably heard all sorts about me, some fact, some speculation, some pure invention, so Im writing this book to tell my story from my point of view, and I hope youll enjoy reading it.

Every story has a beginning and maybe mine started when I was in my pram forty-nine years ago. Whenever my mother put on a record, she noticed that I would sway slowly in time with the ballads, and jiggle faster to the rhythm of the quicker tunes. Or maybe it started with the toy banjo she bought me when I was a wee lassie. I used sit in front of the television mimicking Paul McCartney when the Beatles were on Top of the Pops. But Ill go back to all that a bit later.

For you, my story probably started on 11 April 2009 when I first appeared on television, but it was actually a couple of months before, on 21 January, that they recorded the Glasgow audition for Britains Got Talent.

Ive been on quite a journey since then, and it was actually quite a journey getting to the audition itself...

Id had one of those sleepless nights that seem endless when you know you should be resting but you cant find a comfortable position. Your stomachs all butterflies, then, just as youve nodded off, its time to get up and youre in a rush. It was still dark outside and my bedroom was cold. Any other day, I might have been tempted to close my eyes and cosy down in the warmth of the duvet, pretending Id overslept, but I had a bus to catch, and there was no way I was going to let this chance slip away from me.

The air in the bathroom was so chilly my breath steamed up the mirror as I stood there barefoot on the cold lino, trying to make myself beautiful. My hair has never done what its told, and that day it looked like a straw hat. When I tried to style it with a hairdryer, I ended up resembling a fluff ball. I could hear the rain sheeting down outside, so I was going to have to wear a headscarf anyway. There was nothing to be done about it.

At least I had a nice frock, even it was a wee bit dressy for six oclock in the morning! Gold lace, with a gold satin ribbon at the waist, Id bought it for my nephews wedding the previous year. Id found it in a shop in the nearby town of Livingston and it had cost a tidy penny, but it was a special occasion and I thought I looked good in it. At the reception, Id worn the dress with a white jacket, white shoes and natural-coloured tights, but the morning of the auditionI dont know what possessed meI decided to pull on black tights. Black tights and a gold dress with white shoes, for Gods sake, Susan, do not match! But I didnt know that then.

I put my head round the living-room door to say good-bye to my cat, Pebbles, but she was sensibly fast asleep in the hearth. Just before leaving the house I touched the gold chain round my neck that has my mothers wedding ring on it. Wearing it makes me feel shes close.

Here we go then, I said, closing the front door behind me.

Sometimes when I look back at that moment, I feel there must have been some sign that my life was about to change, but if anything it was the opposite. There was nothing auspicious at all about that rainy, grey dawn. In fact, it felt like one of those days when the sun never seems to come up.

They call this part of Scotland the Wet Valley because we get more than our fair share of rain. Some people say the next generation is going to be born with webbed feet! Sling-back, peep-toe white shoes are certainly not the most suitable footwear on a rainy winter morning and the water was seeping in through all the gaps.

There were one or two lights on in the neighbours upstairs windows, but it was still too early for most people to be up and about. A dog that had been out all night shivered in the dripping shelter of a doorstep. I saw a couple of men leaving their houses for the early shift, their coat collars up, lunch boxes under their arms. They didnt take any notice of me, which was just as well because, teetering along on heels like stilts, I was in quite a mood.

Was I completely mad? All the doubts Id had about what I was doing began to resurface as I walked down the road I used to take to school towards a challenge that was more daunting than anything Id ever faced before. The comments my brothers and sisters had made at Christmas, when I told them Id got an audition for Britains Got Talent, kept repeating in my head.

Do you know what they do on Britains Got Talent? They laugh at you! They boo you! They buzz you! Can you take all that?

If you put yourself in the arena, youve got to take the chance, havent you? Id defended myself.

Oh my God! Dont go there! Not with that Piers Morgan!

Just leave it, Id told them.

Well, dont be surprised if you dont get through.

Thanks for your faith in me. Smashing people, you!

Id stuck up for myself all right, but inside Id been thinking, Oh my God! What have I done?