Jack Scott - Perking the Pansies: Jack and Liam move to Turkey

Fi rst Published Great Britain 20 1 by Summertime Publishing

Copyright Jack Scott

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publishe r .

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publishe r s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchase r .

ISBN: 978-1-909193-08-6

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Disclaimer

This book is based on actual events. T o protect the privacy of the persons involved, and in the interest of narrative clarit y , some names, characterisations, locations, conversations and timescales have been changed.

For John

Ascendant star shot down by fate

T esekkr Ederim

My eternal thanks to the expats of T urkey who handed me a story (or was it a poisoned chalice?) on an appreciative plate. The truth is often stranger than fiction. I continue to be surprised and touched by the remarkable interest shown by my blog- reading pansy fans. Y our support prompted me to write this book. A special mention to proof-reader extraordinaire, Helen Frase r , who had the unenviable task of trawling through the erro r -strewn first draft. Paul Burston s encouragement has been hugely welcome as have the surprisingly kind words from the reviewers of the book. Thank you to my inspirational publishe r , Jo Parfitt, for taking a gamble on an unknown writer: I hope her blind faith will be rewarded. A big hand to Kilian Krll, my brilliant American edito r , who coped with some baffling and racy British idioms with patience and good humou r .

T o my London life friends, thank you for keeping me sane. Im so grateful to Charlotte and Alan for letting me tell their heart aching tale. One day Adalet will return.

Profound thanks to my mother and my family who take me as I am and love me regardless.

Finall y , how could I not mention my Liam? W ithout whom and all that. His double-whammy strategy of challenge and support made this book what it is. So blame him if you don t like it.

A great deal of harm is being done in the modern world by the belief in the righteousness of work.

Bertrand Russell

Contents

Just imagine the absurdity of two openly ga y , recently married, middle-aged, middle class men escaping the liberal sanctuary of anonymous London to relocate to a Muslim countr y . The country in question is not Iran (we had no desire to be lynched from the nearest olive tree by the Revolutionary Guard) but neighbouring T urke y , a secular nation practising a moderate and state-supervised form of Islam. Even so, T urkey provides a challenge to the free-spirited wishing to live unconventionall y . Openly gay T urks in visible same-sex relationships are as rare as ginger imams.

There are more parallels between Britain and T urkey than many realise. Both are historic nations once united under Ancient Rome, fiercely independent and suspicious of a new pan-European empire formed by a T reaty in modern Rome. Both are anchored to the edge of Europe but chained to it economicall y . Both have a political and cultural heritage so immense that they transformed the world. Both have eme r ged from the long shadow of an empire destroyed by world wars and both are trying to fo r ge a modern role in a rapidly changing world.

Trkiye means land of the strong , an old T urkic/Arabic compound. Anatolia translates as sunrise from ancient Greek. Both poetic epitaphs are fitting depictions of a vast land blessed with striking physical beaut y , wrought by the brutal force of Mother Nature, and fought ove r , won and lost by invaders across all of recorded time. T urkey is a nation familiar to many Brits: the bee r -swigging tattooed tourist seeking cheap fun in the sun with chips on the side, and those of a more scholarly hue who wonder at the unparalleled scale and depth of Anatolian culture and histor y . T raditional T urkey is the true crossroad of civilisations, the evidence of which lies casually underfoot, and a land where kinship and community reign supreme. New T urkey is a reinvigorated, rising, regional powe r , the ephemeral playground of pallid-skinned, sun-starved Northern Europeans go r ging themselves on expensive imported bacon, cheap local plonk and one-upmanship. Islamic majesty sits uncomfortably alongside ba r gain bucket tourism. It was precisely this compelling contradiction of the captivating and the comical that lured two culture-curious gay boys out from under the cosy duvet of laissez-faire London life.

This book began life as a monthly email commentary of our experiences in our foster land and the extraordinary people

the sad, the mad, the bad and the glad we encountered along the wa y . I called my dispatches witterings and shared them with my wish-you-were-heres. As the witterings gre w , high and low drama unfolded around us. So began a rollercoaster ride that amused, moved, surprised and ultimately changed us foreve r .

In the beginning there was work, and work was God. After thirty-five years in the business, the endless predictability made me question the Faith. Liam, on the other hand, was neither bored nor unchallenged but routinely subjected to the demands of a feckless boss, a soft and warm Christmas tree fairy with a soul of granite, Lucifer in lace. He feared for his tenure. I feared for his mental health.

Happy Birthda y , Liam.

Our favourite Soho brasserie was illuminated by flickering antique oil lamps and the occasional beam of light from the kitchen. The restaurant was swollen with rowdy afte r -hours workers, swapping gossip and feasting on hearsa y . W e had squeezed into a small recess by the windo w , dribbles of condensation trickling down the glass and obscuring the view to the street beyond.

Liam ripped o f f his Armani tie and draped it across the back of his chai r .

Thanks, Jack. Forty-six and fully-functioning tackle.

Ill drink to that.

Our waiter intruded. Have you decided?

Y es, Cato, I said. W ell both have the special.

The cute Colombian turned on his heels and sashayed o f f towards the kitchen. Liam retrieved his tie and rolled it absently around his fingers.

Y ou do know that s Italian silk?

It s just a shackle. An ove r -priced, ove r -hyped, ridiculous little shackle. He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead with the tips of his fingers.

Good day at the office, darling?

Just pour the wine, Jack.

Liam folded his tie, placed it neatly on the table and stared into my eyes with unusual intensit y .

Jack, you know I love you, don t you?

Sure I do.

In the three years we had been togethe r , Liam had been irrepressibly a f fectionate. W e had recently married, an affirming fanfare of family and friends crowned by two glorious weeks in T urke y . I had never felt more loved.

Look, said Liam. Ive got something to tell you.

Cato returned and fussed over the table setting for what seemed like an age, adjusting the condiments like chess pieces to make room for the oversized plates. He placed the white linen napkins on our laps and started to fret over my cutler y .

That s fine, Cato!

Liam shuffled uncomfortabl y , and Cato and his impossibly thin waist minced back to the kitchen.

I thought you liked this place? I said. I thought you were happy?

I do. I am. He forced a smile.

This is you looking happy?