badezimmer im englischen stil

i know why i didn't pass part 3 of myexams, because i didn't work hard enough. i know why i didn't pass a-level maths,because i wasn't clever enough. that's easy. but i don't know what i've donewrong here. and it's such an importantpart of your life... ...such an important part of your life. this is my mum and dad in 1964. in about ten years, and like a million married couples,

they'd separate and divorce. this is chadderton park road,in oldham, near manchester. i was born at home, just around the corner. it seems different to how i remember it, but memory's funny like that. she was in the year above me.i don't know exactly how we got together but as kids do, y'know, "tell yourfriend i like her," or vice versa. but yes, that's where we met. she was in the year above meso there was no year on year contact.

i was in the year beneath him,at school. he was a year ahead. i don't know... i think he... harry said he asked him aboutasking me to go out, but... i was flattered because he wasin the year ahead. you know, you are at that age. well, we were much more innocent,in our day, than they are now. no, no. she was a year older than me. and hence...was in the year ahead of me. i think we were fifteen,when we started to go out...

...heading up for sixteen. memory doesn't always serve us too well. which is strange when you think about it. most of what you feel, know and loveis based on memories. but we forget some things,and remember others. you read of other familieswhere the divorce happens but it settles downand becomes amicable. whereas this never, never did. we've been married 35 yearsand it's never gone away somehow.

because it was such a bitter divorce and the times afterwardsand such a lot was said. it's gone so deep,it's affected everybody involved. and affected them very deeply. y'know, there was always... ...conflict. one way or another. the family has been totally fractured,in every direction. and i think is a shame that wedon't see a lot of each other.

when you look back... we were a tight unit, consideringeverything that was going on. it's just such a shame that it'sgone the other way, as we've grown up. this awkward-looking photographwas taken at my grandmother's funeral. that's me on the left,with my sister and brothers. although we've seen each otherindividually, and at different times, we worked out that it was 30 years since we were all in thesame room together. we're talking about eventsthat are well in the past, now.

but they're still current,in the sense that they are still... ...contaminating all of therelationships today. i think people have made ataboo subject out of it. no-one wants to talk about it. there are still raw nervesand sore subjects and people don't want to re-visit them. people have learned to get bywithout constantly referring to it, but it doing that,we've just made it a taboo. we've just made everything a taboo.

there's really nothing specialabout my family. nobody became a world champion but none of us turned out to be junkiesor psychopaths either. we've all made our own way in life. i had doubts about making afilm about family. i still do. it's not going to win me any friends, and perhaps it's better toleave the past in the past, but things haven't turned out brilliantly.

i thought, maybe this film was the only positive thingi could make of a bad situation. this is the m5 motorway, northbound. i'm driving home from devon. in 1984, my mum, step-dad haroldand three brothers moved to devon to open a small hotel. it was a long way away but istayed in oldham, with my dad, step-mum fredaand sister libbie. for this visit i'd driven downto get some interviews on tape.

my step-dad harold and two ofmy brothers, damian and jimmy. as it turned out,only damian agreed to talk. but the visit was important foranother reason. because travelling home with me,in the boot of the car, were all the old family photos,from mum and harold's side. a few weeks later, i picked up the photos from mydad and freda's side... ...and started scanning. i found this message on theback one of the photos.

my sister libbie is on the front,with her teddy bear. she wrote the message when she was 9. she's the eldest. it's a beautiful photograph, but she didn't want to beidentified in this film. there are lots of old photos oflibbie looking happy. at school, on holiday, at home. that's me on the left, with myolder brother richard on the right. libbie is six years older than me.that's a big difference when you're little.

but despite the age gap, we got on pretty well. the thing is, none of these photosare easy for libbie to look at. i understand that. because although she looks happy,it's not how i remember it. i remember her more like this,with her eyes down. and no-one really paying attention. libbie was desperately unhappy and i felt like the only one who noticed.

they made life horrible for her,at mum and harold's. like she was an unwanted guest. libbie's relationship with haroldwas always difficult. he'd blow up at the slightest thing. i always knew when she was sad. i suppose it was a kind of empathy. things were better at my dad and freda's but we only spent every otherweekend there and half the school holidays.

i don't think i'll ever know,or fully appreciate what these photos mean for libbie. i did ask if she wanted to be interviewed but things are a bit awkward,and we don't see much of each other. it's kind of sad really. granville street. next to ogden street,next to brook street, next to x street, next to y street. two up, two downs. back-to-backs,outside toilets...

...some places with shared toilets. cobbled streets,the end of the old era, you might say. the milkman came in a horse-drawn cartand the milk came out of a milk-churn ...and you collected it in a jug. harry was her favourite, maybe that's because he wasa boy and mothers and sons, you know how it is. i've always been the pain in the butt. the difficult one,who gave her the most trouble.

my dad used to stick up for me,and mum used to stick up for harry. i am a great supporter ofthe eleven plus. in principle. just think about it. we talk aboutunder-privileged families... ...and providing themwith opportunities. that's exactly what it did for me. because, i was the only boy inour street who went to grammar school. i wanted to be a vet, that wasmy ambition all through childhood. i always wanted to be a vet. but my grandmother said to me,"oh, you're too small to be a vet.

you know... these big animals,how will you cope?" then i thought, maybe i'm notclever enough to be a vet. when i as at junior school, the onlyexam preparation they did was to say, "buy these books frombarnsley's book stall in oldham." and there was general knowledge,science and whatever other subjects, but my dad could only afford, orwould only buy two of the three books. so there was no hullabaloo, it wasjust something i turned up and did. i was never brought up toimagine there was a class difference. i've never been a person who feltthere was a difference

but i think your dad has. and that has affected him becausehe was ambitious to do better. to get out of that situation,and i understand that. i remember clearly, one sunday,walking with my dad along park road... ...and i was looking at houses. when i say 'looking at the houses',your jaw wasn't dropping, but they were much nicer thanthe houses where i lived. the gardens... there were gardens!you know? you had to walk a long way fromgranville street before you found a garden.

i never even thought about it.that's where i lived. it didn't affect me in the same way. but i'd been lucky in theup-bringing i'd had. but it affects people differently,doesn't it? so, we were going out at around15 or 16, something like that. i carried on to sixth form.she went to work. i didn't go to sixth form becauseyour grandad said to me, "oh, you don't need a-levels to wash up." i was going out with your dad at the timeand i thought, maybe he's right?

it's a weird thing, isn't it? so i went down to london engaged andcame back every other weekend or so. it was great. he used to come upon the bus, overnight. i used to meet him in manchesterin the early hours of the morning. and we would go for coffeein a cafe with all the tramps. yeah, i mean... ...your dad, for me, he was like... ...the love of my life,i always felt then, you know? he was... something else.

the bride's dress was lovely,she looked lovely on the day... ...the bridesmaids. the meal was up at park,a nice place etc etc. you couldn't look back and say... ...it was cheap, it was rustled up. no, it wasn't. it wasn't.it was nice. this my older brother richard and me. there's no getting away from it,we're definitely brothers. and god knows why, but we wereoften bought the same clothes.

but despite the resemblance andphysical similarities, really... ...we're total opposites. we get by, but we'll neverbe best friends. he's more competitive than me. he hates to lose. whenever we played a game,just the two of us, he'd cheat. i never understood why. he loved to tease and antagonise.he still does.

anything to get a reaction. i think i bugged him somehow. this is a good one... ...i think someone dared him toplay chicken with the sea. and fair enough, he's stood his ground. and this is another... ...richard said he could eatthe whole cake. so mum dared him to try. yep. that's our richard

and he was a pain in the arse. and he always managed to pull aface on photographs. richard and libbie never got on. she was a girl, for a start, but bigger, and older. for libbie? well, i think he wasjust a nuisance. his relationship with harold was mixed. he got closer than i did. they loved a joke at my expense.

they were like mates, sometimes, but then there'd be a massive fall out. after one, richard had to stay inhis room for about two weeks. but he wouldn't back down. we got used to living withfunny atmospheres. i can't say i understand richard, but he did a great job trainingour dog, toby. getting up early, every day,to walk him. toby was cool.

i haven't lived with richardsince i was 13. that's when i left to livewith my dad and freda. he stayed with my mum and harold,and moved down to devon. but they threw him out when he was 17. we only see each other every now and again. and i think we're both fine with that. i feel like i'm coming upagainst the taboo. i emailed my brother, richard,he lives in china, and i asked if he wantedto be interviewed.

he replied to say no. he didn't want to speakto an audience of strangers. he's not interested in the subject. and so he just politely declined. i'm sad that i can't get him on tapeand get his views into this film, but he said no and that's fine. but a few days after that,i contacted my step-dad harold. harold is someonei've spoken to most about this. i met him twice and talked aboutwhat i'm trying to do.

i thought i'd convinced him this wasn'tan aggressive or investigative project. but he said no as well. you turn up for work one morning,you reach through the door and there's a new member of staff. a woman similar age to myself and... ...i took a liking to her. he got this little letterfrom this woman at work and it was very affectionately written. on the bottom it said, "love margaret"and a couple of kisses...

...and, i thought it was odd. that created a bit of falling outand that sort of thing, because these things show,in your attitude. but i felt that something was going onand i felt unable to... ...compete because i was pregnant. sorry. i wasn't going out at night,looking for anything like this. this just happened. and yes, i liked her. she liked me.blah blah blah.

we didn't do anything. you take that sort of thinghome with you whether you realise it or not. there would be an argument. i could never understandhow it had happened. he'd go out. he'd go off in the car, and wouldn'tcome back until after midnight. it was so... unlike him. you fall out, or become impatient,"i'm not bloody having this!"

it comes out in that way and youbecome a person you weren't before. "what's wrong you?" or"you're quiet?" or something like that. he and harold went on a night out. they told us that they were goingto a football match, and then going for a meal afterwards. anyway, harold admitted that they'dactually gone to the work's party. and of course,margaret was at the work's party and i hadn't been invited. and he'd lied to me.

i think that was a bigturning point for me. i thought the important thingwasn't that it happened because that's a statement of fact, it was how you conductyourself or behave in that situation. we're all human beings,you try to handle it as best you can because, y'know,you don't want to hurt people. as far as i know, he's telling the truth. i'm not saying he's a liar... ...but he said they never actuallyhad physical intercourse.

right, but does that make itless of an affair? whether i'd undermined the marriagein her eyes, that would be her choice, all i can say, is that there wasnothing physical between us. we didn't go out on dates. it was at work, and... ...by the time you were born,i'd changed jobs, it had run its course,it was past and gone. so this is me, but they aren't my fish.

i didn't catch anything that day. as far as i remember, i've onlycaught one fish in my whole life. but i don't often go fishing. i didn't really look like this as a kid. my mum found an old hatand put it on me. she told me to look'forlorn' for a photo. i had to guess what it meant. i probably looked more like this. kind of skinny and quiet.

not the best at joining in. i don't know whether i was unhappyat mum and harold's... ...but i don’t think it wasthe best place for me. i was known as the day-dreamerof the bunch. it became a family jokethat i was a bit slow. but it wasn't very funny. we did have some good times, butthere always seemed to be tensions. and i always felt wary of harold. he could be loud and intimidating.

i suppose he just wasn'tmy kind of dad. i always felt morecomfortable with my dad. i thought he was the bees knees. i hated saying goodbye to himat the end of our weekends. absolutely dreaded it. it was tough when he wentto work in saudi arabia. pre-email, pre-webcam. pre-easy and affordable internationalphone calls. he came home every few monthsand we visited there once,

but other than that, all we hadwere air mail letters. he came home after three years, and asked me if i wanted to live with him. i was definitely happier at my dad's, but it meant a whole heap of trouble. one night, i had to standin front of my mum and dad, and tell them who i wanted to live with. it was a clear choice for me, but not so easy to say it.

but i did it. libbie had already left by then, but i don't know what it was likefor the others when i'd gone. and i don't know what itwas like for my mum. but on the day they moved to devon, mum dropped me off atschool in the morning, and my step-mum fredapicked me up that night. and that was the end of that. that life, that routine.

the end of living with those peopleas part of that family. and i don't know if it sounds strange... ...but i was glad to go. i was becoming more and more unhappywith the situation. things weren't good between us. and i started to think... ...how could i manage withrichard and libbie and me on my own. i was thinking i would get job... ...and then i found outi was pregnant with you.

i know it sounds odd,and everybody laughs when i say it, but i know how all fourchildren were conceived, or what happened to cause it, but i do not know... ...how i came to be pregnant with you. you, as a third child,were not planned. i was going to say youwere not wanted... your mother said during the divorcethat a third child was an additional tie to me,which she didn't want.

you carry on in the circumstances.you go along with things. your dad achieved his ambitionto live on chadderton park road, you go along with it butpart of you knows it's not right for you anymore,you know? it was easier, more convenient,i'd take the responsibility... ...without sounding like a big hero, to have a vasectomy,and that's what we did. the significant thing about thevasectomy, and they made it clear, this is irreversible.

you have the vasectomy and that's it.there's no way back. harold was a friend. he was a friend and hecame to help your dad do work on the house, build wardrobesand this kind of thing and he was there to help with that. i went drinking with with harold,i knew his mum and dad, we went to the football together you know, we were mates.best mates. harold, one day, as i walked past him,

he tapped my bum. and it was like somebody hadlit a fire under some dry wood. just as we said before,you pick up vibes... ...i was now picking up vibes. there was one night when haroldand i had been working and then we finished for thenight and had a cup of tea. it was just the three of us,your mother, myself and harold and i fell asleep. and as i slowly woke up...

they were on the sofa,and they were kissing. so i... ...you remember somethingsquite clearly... i made it obvious i was waking up,so they would stop kissing. it confirmed everything because,as i said, you pick up vibes. and then harold left andi said to your mother, "i wasn't asleep." she said there was nothing in it- as they do. i loved your mother at the time.i say that unashamedly.

i did not want anything like this.i wanted to believe her, call it naive...but genuinely, i accepted it. but, i knew...i knew. i tried to put your dad offasking harold to come round but it almost seemed like your dad...and this is ridiculous but... but it almost seemed like he knewand he was pushing it. i would say, he's been away, hasn't he?he won't want to come round. and he'd say, "oh, he will," andhe'd ring him and invite him around. it sounds stupid.it does sound stupid

but it was almost like that. of course, the worst thingwas for us to be together. but it was like...somebody was filling the void of this emotional blank i'd gone into ...with your dad. it was never the idea of this filmto blame anyone, accuse people or point the finger. i'm not interested in that. people do things, people make mistakes.

sometimes for the right reasonsand sometimes not. but these mistakes take on extragravity when you've got kids. it's an immense responsibility. like that philip larkin poem almost says, they screw you up, your mum and dad. i don't want to criticise anyone but on the other hand no-one'sbeyond criticism. in some ways, they really messed things up. but my mum is my mum andmy dad is my dad.

they can separate, divorceand learn to hate each other. but i can't. i'm part him and i'm part her for life and there's nothing to change that. and even if you could say theywere the worst parents in the world who wants to think that? of their own mum and dad. harold had been awayand when he came back the three of us we went for walk,and they were in front of me talking

and i am convinced,though i could be wrong, that she was pregnant. and she knew itand they were talking about it. because on the following friday night,when he came up, that's when she left, "i'm going. i'm going with harold." harold came round to do some work. it was like i just... kind of......i can't do this anymore. - so out of that he saidhe'd pick you up on friday? oh, no. we went that night. - oh, i see. so that wasn't...planned? no.

- i was surprised to hear thatleaving us hadn't been planned. - i felt fairly sure, that she knewshe was pregnant with damian. - i found it hard to believe thatit wasn't the catalyst for leaving. - so, looking back...were you pregnant with damian at that time? i probably was, yes.but wasn't... aware. my mum phoned a few days later. she wanted to say that she did knowshe was pregnant, before leaving. i think they left together. i thinkhe was there on that friday night ...and they left together.

i couldn't stand up in a court of lawand say that's what happened... ...but i think he was thereand that's what they did. so no, i don't know if he waswaiting around the corner, or not. i can't remember the actual logistics. i went upstairs and packed a bagand i came down and said to your dad, "graham... i'm leaving... with harold." and he turned roundand said, "oh, okay. bye." and that was it. we were there and she said,"i'm going."

i asked her,"are you alright for money?" y'know, "if you're going,are you okay for money?" in a weird way, it reinforced what i felt.that he didn't actually care, whether i was there or not.it was just a weird reaction. there was no,"what? can we talk about this?" i wasn't surprised. it was only confirmation of everythingthat i knew was going on. we got in the car anddrove up to edinburgh. and the next day, early,i phoned your grandmother.

i explained what hadhappened and said could she please go round andmake sure you children were alright and that graham was alright, you know? i was worried. i mean......that you were all alright. i asked,"can you help him with the children?" because, i couldn't do anything. i didn't have anywhere totake you, or look after you. you're in absolute turmoil, a million and million thingsgo through your mind.

what happens on mondaywhen i have to go to work? you were two plus.i think you were still in nappies. richard was four... all i can say is... ...imagine now, this saturday,you've got three children, your wife's gone,you don't know where they are and to make matters worse,to really smack you in the face she's gone off with your best friend. it was... it was... huge.it was massive.

i felt it was the wrong thing totake you children off your dad as well you know, maybe i've hurt him by leaving. taking you kids off him wouldbe another blow. all kinds of thoughtswe're going through my head. you were better where you were.at least you didn't have a change of home. the stability would be good for you,you know, as it was. i don't know now, how i managedto do what i did with three kids. i had a job that took me away,i was studying for my exams... ...whatever happened, it wentsolely, totally, only... through me.

i couldn't say to other people,"what can i do?" because it wasn't their decision. itwasn't their choice. it was my problem. so, that was the position i was in and i felt very, very, lonely. very alone. this is my mum with my brother damian around nine months after she left. mum and harold's first child. i suppose that makes him my half-brother

but i don't really think of him like that. he's always just been damian. he was an amazingly pluckylittle brother. fearless, really. you could dare him to ride hisbike off a cliff, and he'd just go and do it. in style. every now and again, he'd hurt himself and you'd remember hewasn't indestructible.

but he was always good fun.he never felt down or got fed up. he was bright too,enthusiastic, and good at drawing. he liked to play, and he wasalways willing to have a go. and we still like to see each otheras often as we can. there were some tensions, though. he had a different dad, for a start. i expect it's not easy to treatstep-children the same as your own. i remember damian'sgrandmother for that... ...favouritism, i mean.

i don't think she understoodhow it felt from our point of view. it led to a bit of resentment. it felt like he wasa bit of a golden boy. i mean, it wasn't his fault but it was a difficult situation,and we were just kids. still, i feel bad forholding anything against him but that's only part of what i remember. we were brothers. we grew up together

played out, shared interests. it wasn't all happyand it wasn't all sad but he was there throughout. and there was a time when i nearly forgot that. i was working atreddish printworks, the co-op. working for the works manager,as his secretary. i was dreadfully shy.really, i was. the first time i was takenaround the factory, as the new girl,

they were all whistling and shouting, i thought i will never, neverbe able to walk around here on my own. but within a few short monthsi was volunteering. your dad came to work ina separate office but there was alwaysa slight air about him, i thought he loved himself a bit. but then obviously when hecame to work upstairs and i got to know him properly,we just clicked and i appreciated hissense of humour etc etc.

it felt right.there was just something... ...it was comfortable, it was right,and easy. that sums it up, really. people had said his wife had left him. i didn't know much about ituntil he came to work upstairs. and because i was doing secretarialwork for him, he then asked me to writeprivate letters to his lawyer. only then did i start toknow more about his situation. but yeah, i felt bad for the kidsand the situation they were in when your dad described what it was.

you want to help,which sounds a bit grand. he was in my office one day... and walked across looking out ofthe window and said, "so, the kids think weshould get married." so that was the proposal.it wasn't down on bended knee. "oh, erm, what?" and then he explained, it feels rightand what's to wait for? so, from going out for thefirst time in november we were married in six months.

my parents were a bit shockedand basically against it. that your dad was looking forsomeone to look after the children which was slightly hurtful to me, but once it was done they realisedthat your dad wasn't that sort of person ...and completely accepted it. it didn't feel good in that respect but i genuinely felt i knew what i wasdoing and it would work. the wedding was a bit disastrousto start with because... the taxi was supposed to take me,ian and carol and mum and dad

...and the taxi didn't arrive. so, my brother ian had alittle triumph herald was able to take me, mum and dad.there wasn't room for anybody else. so when we got to the register office,we dashed in on the last minute. and in fact, my brother ianwas my bridesmaid. he signed the register for meand carol didn't see me get married. neither did my friend, pat. you were in at thedeep end immediately. there were times when i thought,"what have i done, here?

"i don't know whetheri can stay with this." not an easy situation. for anybody.for me coming into it... ...and for three children having astranger come into their life and home. so, no. not easyand when i look back... ...i suppose everybody makes mistakes,and in that respect, i had no experience of children. so, yes, it was a hard time.a hard time... ...i think for all of us. the only thing i rememberfrom back then,

and probably my earliest memory,was the queen's silver jubilee. that's probably because mydad dressed up as a woman, which... when you are about three years old,is quite a scary prospect. a big bearded man in a dress, but uh... yeah, that's probably my earliestand strongest memory from back then. but i do remember him working awaya lot. that was quite hard, really. it was months on end, wasn't it?which was quite tough, really. but it was always nicewhen we came back because he always brought backweird and wonderful presents.

but when you're a kid,he was this big bearded man, you know, massive loud voice... ...very short temper,and that's how you remember him. and then, you think about everythingthat he took on as a 28 or 29 year-old. he's there three kids that aren't his,and suddenly one that is... ...and then another one that is. he's looking afterfive kids in his early 30s, it's a lot to take on, isn't it? and it just seems strange to thinkof my dad being younger than me.

all from from day one with libbie,right through to when they left, i was involved with the kids. i was the first of what i claimto be the modern dad. and you would know if this was apack of lies because you were there. i read to the kids at night. we playedout, football. we went for days out... y'know... ...and i was involved. that helped when she leftbecause i knew what to do. what i hadn't anticipated was...

...what i considered to be yourdad's extreme reaction, afterwards, with regard, to you children. in my view, he used you as weapons. she didn't offer to pay any money.she got a job shortly after she left. so she had money coming inbut she never offered a penny. no offer of any help at all. until, she was in a position wherethey had a house and then, she wanted custody. well, i decided long before then,that i wanted the kids.

your dad wouldn't let me take you out. i had to visit you at the house. he used to take you in the bathand shut the door, so that when i came to see you, you were in the bath andhe wouldn't let me in. he used to turn the light offin the room... ...he was up to all kinds of things. remember, i had the vasectomy.i couldn't have any more kids. the weren't just 'the kids',they were...

...i enjoyed being a dad.i enjoyed that role. i didn't have a problem with it at all. that made me realise that i couldn't......we could never work together to make sure you children were alright. and i needed to have custody,otherwise, he would, somehow exclude me from your lives. and iwasn't going to allow that to happen. i was, after all, your mum. a pretty poor mum, i suppose,but i was your mum. y'know? i felt then and i still feel now, that...

...the decent thing was for her to say,"i've left you... "...you can't have any more kids, that'sa decision you took for us as a family. "i am their mother and i wouldlove to have the kids, but... "...i've got another family comingalong now, "...i want to see my own kids... "...but i won't try to take them off you." she didn't. it was almost like... it was apunishment i needed to take. that everybody thought bad of me, you know?

i wasn't thrilled at the idea ofleaving you children and i didn't want to break a marriage up. so i stayed silent. that enabled, in a way,your dad to be the innocent party. and he... he believed hisown publicity, in the end. that's my... only my view. i contacted my mum andasked about a second interview. she said... she said no. she said that the last interviewhad put her in an unhappy place.

it had taken her a few weeksto come back from it. i'm the one who's imposing a film.i'm the one pointing the camera at people and i don't have a rightto feel entitled to that, but i haven't found the right wordsto describe how i feel, about my mum saying no. how do i represent mymum's side of the story? how can i be fair to her? she's the only source of that information. and i don't know.i wasn't there or old enough...

...to be able to represent what she did. all of these things that peoplehave packed away into boxes. these tin boxes that have becomedusty and rusty, over the years. these cans of worms, the thing is, the worms are stillwriggling around, inside. you can't change anything about the pastbut the present... ...and the foreseeable future frommy point of view... ...is poisoned by all of this. i thought people would like thechance to open these rusty boxes,

but actually, it's not just difficultto prize the lids off, it's proving difficult to get peopleto even talk about them. i didn't exactly have apositive image of marriage. i'd said right from the startthat i didn't want to get married. things would go wrong.i just had this... ...fear that things would suddenlygo wrong once we got married. obviously, we're married now. it took 15 years, andit's the best thing i've ever done. even growing up, i used to...every so often, i'd think.

"if they got divorced,who would i go with?" i had that quite often. i remember on one occasion, my mumcame in when we were at the hotel, and it was almost likeshe was saying goodbye. it was like a final goodbye. like she had made hermind up to walk out. and she was getting emotionaland giving me and jim hugs and i thought, "well, this is it." this is the moment i've been dreading.

here it is...and then nothing came of it so whether they'd hada big argument and made up? they must have. but it was somethingthat i always expected to happen. you then come across officialdom,where you go and see the lawyer, and eventually social workersand eventually the courts. first in manchester, and then inpreston, and then in london. none of which was a nice experience. it's not something any of ushad experienced before, ...being in a courtroom.certainly, in london, y'know

the royal courts of justice, it's allquite imposing and overawing. they went to the lengths of canlibbie come to the court? so we got libbie from home that day, got her to preston,got her back to the court... and the judge spoke to herprivately in her own chambers. and she said,"i've asked libbie what she wants do, "who she wants to stay with.and she wants to stay with her father." so the legal system asked the question,got the answer, and ignored it. i was one out of the four who reallyhadn't anything to do with the situation.

so you do feel a bit aggrieved to bein a witness box and being... ...questioned in aslightly hostile manner. we have given it our best shot.we got our strongest arguments out today, including what the judge said, and i remember saying tofreda when we left preston, "we'll lose custody." it wasn't finalised there, we had to goto london sometime later. and i said to freda,"we'll lose custody." libbie... always said shewanted to stay with her dad,

suddenly changed her mindand wanted to live with her mum. your dad said,"if that's what you want, so be it." the social worker saw mewith you kids once. but then writes a report which goesto the court is read by the judge... ...and is listened to. you wanted to scream in court,"this is not fair this is not true." we didn't see why you and richardcouldn't stay, if you wanted to but the court's ruling was that thethree children should be kept together. that that was the best wayfor the children.

and it was a tremendous blow. obviously, for your dad. if i say less so for me, obviously,because you were not my children. for you dad, it was an absolutelyhorrendous blow. you felt let down on so many fronts:officially, legally, personally. and you don't know where to turn to. i wish i could say thatthe system treated me fairly, and i deserved the end product. then that would've beeneasier to live with.

but in fact, the opposite was true. driving back from london that night,i think it was a january night, so a dark winter's night and he was absolutely in......despair. so... a rotten time, really. we got back and that following weekendyou went to your mum's. i can still remember packing your stuffand getting your toys and things together. your mum turning up bright and breezyat the door on the saturday morning. of course, you ran off down the path...

...you know, all gleeful to the car,a quick wave and off you went. and then you come inand shut the front door and... this is jimmy.my youngest brother. he was born in 1977.mum and harold's second child. as i remember it,we all loved him to bits. he was just the mostadorable little brother. i think he was probably the firstbaby i ever properly looked at. i couldn't believe how small his earsand little toe nails were. perhaps he was something,someone, we could all share.

someone we all had in common. i don't have great memoriesof those days but i only have fond memories of jim. but nobody is all sweetness and light. he was his own person too. he was always full ofideas and thoughts. he always had something in his head.always going somewhere... ...with a mischievous glint in his eye. he loved nature and animals,he was like our little ecologist.

he spent hours once, cleaning deadleaves out of our little garden pond. he said he'd seen the sign that said,"keep beautiful britain tidy." an environmentalist,before it became popular. he was close to my mum.he became very attached to her feet. he'd sit on the floornext to them for hours. they were like his comfort blanket. but he could also takehimself off to play. he was fine on his own. but we were a big family andhe loved being part of the gang.

he thrived on it. he was definitely part of the gang. but the sad thing is, one-by-one,and for various reasons... ...we all left him eventually. first libbie in '82. then me in '84. then richard was thrown out in '86. then damian left for university, and then even mum left eventually,though not until years later. i very rarely see jimmy now.

he doesn't like to keep in touch. i tried to contact him for this film, he never returned my calls oranswered any messages. perhaps that's fair enough... he was the cutest kid, wasn't he?he had these big brown eyes and... ...he was always up for anything. he was great. he was comical,he was fun to have around. i remember one time,we got him in a wash basket. do you remember that?

we got him in a wash basketat the top of the stairs, and he was perfectly happy to do it. that's what he was like,he was absolutely up for anything. so we got him in this wash basket andpushed him off the top of the stairs. he went tumbling down to the bottom,we ran down to see if he was alright... ...and it was almost likehe gave the thumbs up. but that's what he was like,he would do anything, and it was always great to have him therebecause he was always good for a laugh. but his teachers contactedmy parents...

...and he was covered in bruises. i felt terrible because it was like,"god, yeah... that is me... "...that's what i'm doing." and it was a bit of a the wake-up callbecause that was just the way things, but when a third party gets involvedand says, this is out of order. he's like a battered child. that is terrible. i felt guilty...really guilty for that, i must admit. but uh... no, no.it was like a game, wasn't it? like, who could get the best dead arm?

you'd get your knuckle like that... ...punch each other's arms.and the arm that went dead first, lost. it was like a game and... ...i think both sides saw it like that,whoever it was. i think it probably did come from richard. yeah, he was pretty brutal at times,as an older brother. i look at it now and i'm kinda glad,in a way. it toughened you up. i was always the best in my schoolat pain games like scabby queen... ...and slapsies and i have toput that down to richard.

but no, there was definitely this thingwhere richard punched you, so you punched me and i punched jimmy. and it became... ...institutionalised into you thatthat's what you do. you just punch your younger brother.if he annoys you, you punch him. but, you know,we looked out for each other and we used to do stufftogether all the time. whether it was cycling, roller-skating,skateboarding... because there was four boys togetherthere was always something to be doing.

and i don't think we ever reallyfell out with each other, did we? not in a big way. might have little tiffshere and there but... ...we were alwaysbest of mates, really. in the time since losing custody i don't think my dad ever wantedor expected us to reject my mum. but perhaps it would'vehelped him if we had? i wonder sometimes whetherthat was actually acid test, an unconscious test ofwhose side we were on. but it's impossibleto pass that kind of test.

when you're child of divorced parents, you become good at separatingyour life and dividing your loyalties. but you'll never be good enough. but i did try... ...and i suppose i still do. by the late 90s, there were some elements of a functioningfamily hub at mum and harold's. only some, but theywere better than nothing. but all that collapsed...

...when harold found out thatmum had been having an affair. they separated and divorced after that. mum retired and moved to france in 2010. she lives there on her own but she'slearning french and keeps herself busy. she sent me this newspaper cuttingof her with a local retirement group. i wonder sometimes,whether it's self-imposed exile. when my mum... left my dad,he was very quiet for a long time. very... introspective. he would sit thinking about things.you could see him mulling things over.

we'd never seen him like that, at all. it was quite worrying, really. but he's a totally changed man now. he seems really quite happyand content with his life now, ...which is a definite change. i've been thinking to myselfhas it been a terrible childhood? and i don't think it has.certainly, i had a good childhood i'd like to think we all did, really.all in all. obviously, there were bad points andbad times, i think you always have that.

i'd like to think i had a good childhoodand enjoyed the family environment... ...and enjoyed growing up. - i try not to be too bleak about itbecause there are lots of things - that i have fond memories about i hope so.we were only talking the other day about holidays and childhood memories,and your dad said, "we had a lot of good times, didn't we?" ...and i hope you think we did. i don't know if it's a coincidence,

but none of my familylive in oldham anymore. we all moved away ages ago andscattered far and wide. devon, cheshire, yorkshire. china, france, germany. but it's strange to go back to oldham,once in a while. i don't know anyone,and no-one knows me. and all those places i knew and lived in they're meaningless to me now. just bricks and mortar.

it's almost strange thatthose places still exist. maybe you expect them to fadelike the photographs? or maybe you expect to feelsomething more sentimental... ...than just recognising the place. but those houses and streets and schoolsare someone else's now. and that's how it's supposed to be. - i remember you once said that itmade you lose faith in human nature. yes, yes. very much so.which unfortunately i have to this day. whether that's right or wrong,

whether somebody would say,"move on, draw the line. get over it." okay, they can say that,but you are what you are. y'know? he just felt it so... deeply.the unfairness of it, that it has stayed with him.it has stayed with both of us. it's so much a part of your...your life, and almost what you areand who you are now. you feel that right or justicedoesn't always prevail. that sounds naive now but... ...it has made us really quite bitter,in many respects.

your dad is certainly very bitter. the question that's been importantto me, all this time is, "who brought us into this minefield?" i didn't want to be in that minefieldanymore than anybody else. if i had taken us into the minefield,then i would think, "bloody hell, graham."and that's where i think, no. maybe i brought us to the edge of theminefield, but i didn't take us into it. you just get so tired of it, don't you? 35 years... i feel like a could justwalk away from it.

and okay, you have your littletantrum, and upset moments, and then you just get on with it again. freda has had to put up with so much.it's been so difficult. if 20 years ago, she would've said,"i can't put up with this anymore, "...i can't give any more,"i couldn't have blamed her. - can you see how things could get better?no. - or if something chould just happen,everything would be alright. no. no, i don't think anythingwill change now. everybody is... entrenched in theirviews, over all these years.

none of us are suddenly going to say,"ah! i know what went wrong," or what the solution to this is.it's not going to happen. that is the sadness of itand the tragedy of it and if i think i've damagedpeople's lives because of it... that's... that is...an awful lot to come to terms with. which one never really does. i don't think we've ever recoveredfrom what happened all those years ago. kids are supposed to be innocentbut that doesn't make any difference. like a nuclear explosion, everyoneand everything within range is affected.

everything has a history,and nothing is quite as it seems. you deal with the falloutfor the rest of your life. it doesn't just wash off. i rarely see or speak to libbie.i think that's the same for everyone. richard lives in chinabut visits once a year. i see damian when i canbut he rarely sees libbie or richard. nobody sees jimmy. i see harold perhapsonce or twice a year. i speak to my mum every couple of monthsbut i don't know when i'll see her again.

i speak most to my dad and freda.once a week on average. things are okay, but i don't thinkanyone would turn down something better. ...but nobody's family is perfect.

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