Chapter 1 : Introduction, June 1993

I can't do this without going right back to the beginning, but I'll try and make it as brief as possible.

I was born Paul Hammond, I'm thirty-two years and I'm what you might call a 'rocker'. I know it's probably not fashionable to say so, but I was into Whitesnake, Foreigner, UFO, Zep, Black Sabbath, Michael Schenker and practically anything else you could bang yer 'ead to.

I had motorbikes from the age of sixteen and by the next year had graduated from a moped (God, did I actually used to ride one of those?), to a Honda CB 125 cause it was cheap.

My hair, much to mother's disgust was (I'm sorry to say — well no I'm not actually. It was right for the time, however embarrassing it may be now) a mullet. Of course I didn't call it that and the term hadn't even been coined then. I modelled mine on that of David Bowie — my hero — so it was long and feathered at the back, short and spiky on top.

I frequented a club in Brighton called the Hungry Years. Actually, its full title was the Hungry Years Gathering Place and it was where all the bikers and rockers hung out. It was right across the road from the Palace Pier and made for a nice ride there and a nice ride back.

It was also where I met Trisha.

She was a biker babe, long curly or unruly hair, hippy-style skirts, a biker jacket and that constant smell of patchouli.

I liked it anyway.

I was heading towards being twenty-one when I met her and my bike had graduated to a Suzuki GS1000. It was a rat with a cut-down registration plate (making it difficult for the cops to ID you) and went like pooh off a stick. It was my pride and joy. Me and the bike were well known in the club and it was almost like a second home, but things move on.

Ten years later, found me something of an old 'fuddy-duddy'. Gone was the bike and gone were the trips to the Hungry Years. That was okay, because they had long since ceased to play the old rock standards I so got off on like 'Can't get enough of your love' by Bad Company, 'Doctor, Doctor' by UFO, 'Runnin' with the devil' from the excellent Van Halen and many more. By then it was thrash metal and well, I think my head had had enough of being thrown around indiscriminately, my face being whipped by what was now a full head of hair that almost reached my arse.

As a youngster, I was always head and shoulders above everyone else. I left school in '77 at just under six feet tall and weighing in at a princely 154 pound (that's eleven stone in English) and by now, I was six feet three and only half a stone heavier (or 161 pounds). I looked like a golf club without my clothes. It was only the leathers that gave me any 'shape' whatsoever and despite having done many jobs labouring or 'lifting heavy things', I never seemed to get any better definition.

Trisha and I had moved in together shortly after we met and although we never married, we stayed together because we wanted to. I was attracted to her looks, her smell and intrigued I think, by her interest in Wicca. My interest petered out over the years, but hers never did. For the most part though, we were like two peas in a pod, but as I said earlier, things move on, or change, or something.

I went into computer programming, mainly from a desire to earn better money, but Trisha carried on doing basically semi-skilled tasks, saying that money wasn't the route to happiness. She may have been right, but I noticed that she didn't mind the luxuries that my new wage packets were bringing in!

We had a plan and it involved a house in the country with a few acres of land and possibly a couple of horses. We decided that it would be better if we rented a property and saved for our 'dream'. So we stayed in our rented, two-bed house while I saved my money as far as was possible, trying to keep the dream firmly in sight.

As the years passed, we seemed to slide apart. She finally saw that on my own, there was no way our dream was going to come to fruition, especially since she had now become accustomed to those little luxuries, which were now considerably more numerous.

She got herself into college, ostensibly to get a better paid job and help me to save. During her two-year course however, my wages had to stretch to cover everything and whilst I was scraping some savings together on a regular basis, she still wanted those luxuries.

They had one positive effect though and that was filling me out. I became heavier going up to about fifteen stone (210 pounds) and it suited my frame more, however, I was quite despondent that I never really got a more masculine physique out of it; I just looked 'thicker', retaining the slender arms and generally androgynous bodily appearance that I had always found so embarrassing in the past.

Anyway, having successfully completed her college course, Trisha entered the big, wide world of business and better wages. We became happier for a while, feeling more comfortable with ourselves and each other and the lifting of the entire financial burden from my shoulders was a real Godsend.

Unfortunately, as time went on and I don't know how it came about, we stopped talking to one another about what was on our minds, unless it was to complain about squeezing the toothpaste from the wrong end of the tube or leaving to toilet seat up.

We had little time for each other as work or rather 'careers' seemed to be the focus of attention. We spent less time together and towards the end, sex became less and less frequent. I wasn't surprised as I realised that with both of us so focussed on earning, there was little energy to spend on 'enjoying' each other.