Calman - Cheer Up Love: Adventures in depression with the Crab of Hate

www.tworoadsbooks.com

First published in Great Britain in 2016 by Two Roads

An imprint of John Murray Press

An Hachette UK company

Copyright Susan Calman 2016

The right of Susan Calman to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 473 63203 5

Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

Carmelite House

50 Victoria Embankment

London EC4Y 0DZ

www.hodder.co.uk

For everyone who has been Cagney to my Lacey.

And to the Crab of Hate.

Without you Im nothing.

Contents

DAWN breaks over Glasgow, as it always does, to the sound of snoring. My cats and wife combine in glorious harmony, voices reverberating and growling a tune that shakes my flat to the rafters. I try to extricate myself from the pile of fur and human but its not easy. Cats, in particular, sleep with such sincerity that it seems a shame to wake them from their dreams, and theres an awkward scientific phenomenon that turns a tiny feline into the breathing equivalent of a boulder requiring the force of a bulldozer to shift them. In the end Im forced to crawl out of the bottom of the bed, and after the pain of my contortion subsides, I take the time to congratulate myself for winning what is essentially a game of mammal Kerplunk.

I dont mind the fact that Im left to my own devices for a while, in truth I enjoy a few solitary hours in the morning to appreciate the finer things in life. My first sip of strong coffee, the radio quietly playing in the background and the occasional After Eight for breakfast. Its at these times that I can truly appreciate what I have. Not in a material sense, of course. I dont have a huge house or a fancy car, and Im certainly not dripping in diamonds, but thats never been my aim. At some points in my life Ive been so miserable that I would have settled for being vaguely content but Im pleased to say that Ive surpassed that lowly aim. Right now I can sincerely say that I am happy.

Whats caused this shift of emotional tectonic plates? Well Ive been with my wife for Fourteen years, married for four. Ive several children (who are cats), a job I love, friends who support me and make me laugh, and a family who continue to put up with me despite the fact I embarrass them on a regular basis. Crucially, though, its not just the people around me who make me happy. For the first time in my life one of the main sources of happiness is much closer to home. Its little old me. After decades of hating myself Ive finally decided that maybe Im not as bad as I first thought, that perhaps I have something of value to contribute to society. Not in a world-changing Mother Teresa way, but on a smaller, less religious scale. In the past couple of years Ive even been known to throw myself a couple of compliments, a shocking turn of events which I couldnt have predicted if I was Derek Acorah.

In a bold move, Ive finally embraced my idiosyncratic ways, accepted my eccentricities and wrapped my maudlin personality up in a bow to present to the world. I am what I am and Im not sorry about that, unless I get drunk and insult someone. Which doesnt happen very often anymore. Sitting at my desk, writing this book, Im well aware of the fact that my life could have gone in a very different direction. Through luck, hard work and persistence, Im here and ready to tell my tale to the world.

And so this is it. I hope you enjoy it. Im quite forceful in my opinions at times and I make no apology for that. Sadly, I cant make you like me. Im not a hormone.

HELLO. Welcome to this book. If youve bought it because you know who I am, welcome. If youve bought it because you liked the title, you have excellent taste. If youve been given it as a present, then please immediately thank whoever gave it to you because they have excellent taste. If you have no idea why youre reading this, then youre an impulse buyer and you should embrace that side of your personality. I too have bought things on whim. Its why Im writing this while wearing a fully functioning Batman costume.

Just in case youve purchased this because of mistaken identity, let me start by introducing myself properly. My name is Susan Calman and at the time of writing this book Im forty-one years old. I provide my age to you so you can place me in terms of your own history. If youre a youngster you might think Im far too old to understand young people things. Let me assure you that youre wrong. Im absolutely down with youth activities like table tennis and gin. If youre older than me then please be assured that I know a lot of people older than me and we get on fine. In fact, some would say that I am an old soul in a young body. I like darts, snooker and pubs with no music so you can have a decent conversation. I may in fact be a sixty-year-old man from Yorkshire.

It says writer on my passport, mainly because I figured comedian would cause problems when trying to gain entry to America. Saying that your job is a comedian is fraught with danger, especially when dealing with taxi drivers. The encounter usually goes one of two ways; either they ask you to tell them a joke, in which case my whimsical feminist view on life fails to raise a laugh. Or they tell you a joke, which can end badly for everyone. Before you get the wrong idea about me let me be clear: I love taxi drivers, I really do. Especially when they utter my favourite passive aggressive insult:

Do you know who is funny? Kevin Bridges/Frankie Boyle/Billy Connolly (repeats to fade)

Im a writer, as this book illustrates, but I suppose Im probably better known as a comedian. If youre a Radio 4 fan youll have heard me on a multitude of shows like The News Quiz or Im Sorry I Havent a Clue . If youve only heard me on the wireless and dont know what I look like then let me assist. Imagine Angelina Jolie stuffed into the body of Kylie Minogue with a Scottish accent. If youve seen me on television, in shows like Have I Got News For You or QI , youll know that I just lied a bit. Ill talk about my height more as this book progresses, but suffice to say Im short. Im so short I cant see over counters, reach the card payment machines in petrol stations and if I buy three-quarter-length trousers theyre still too long for my tiny little legs.

I am Scottish, from Glasgow to be precise. And Id be very grateful if you could put aside any preconceptions you might of my hometown while youre reading this book. The media are often delighted to present my fellow Glaswegians as violent, drunken, drug-addicted louts filled with a dislike for the English. None of those tropes apply to me, and Id hate you to think that any of the stories contained in these pages are a result of my innate Scottishness. It doesnt help my happiness quota living in a country where summer lasts for a week, but its not the sole cause of my bleak outlook on life.