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The Guardian
8 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
I thought it was being gay that made my life so difficult. Then, at 50, I got an eye-opening diagnosis …
My earliest memory is of feeling different. I'm gay, and grew up in the 1980s, in a tough, working-class town in the north of England at the height of the Aids crisis. My gayness was obvious in the way I walked and talked. I was bullied at school, called a 'poof', 'pansy' and 'fairy'; other children did impressions of me with their wrists limp. I experienced physical violence, too. I was shoved, kicked, my head was slammed against the wall. I was punched in the face more than once. But it wasn't just my sexuality that set me apart. I was 'weird'. I had a rigid attachment to routine and was terribly shy, sometimes freezing in social situations. I needed to be on my own for long periods; not easy when you're in a family of five and share a bedroom with your brother. I was obsessive, channelling this at first into the Star Wars films, then the Narnia novels and, as I got older, Madonna. Lots of kids have short-lived interests but mine were intense: I'd collect facts and statistics about Madonna, memorise the chart positions of her singles, then reel them off to anyone who would listen. If anyone criticised her, I took it as a personal attack and would be distraught. I was easily upset in other ways. I was sensitive to touch and hated being cuddled, I burst into tears at the sound of fireworks. If I heard someone eating with their mouth open, I'd put my hands over my ears and run out of the room screaming. My anxiety was so acute, I'd bite my nails until my fingers bled. I found a few activities soothing. I had a security blanket, which I'd twiddle between my fingers. And I found comfort in repeating words or phrases, over and over again. Sometimes, I'd musicalise snatches of dialogue and skip around the house, singing them. On occasion, I'd lose control in the form of 'meltdowns' – usually before school. I'd collapse on the floor, my body spasming with rage and tears, yanking off my glasses and throwing them across the room. When I was nine, I was sent away on a camp with the Cub Scouts. When I realised I had to share a tent with some of the boys who bullied me, I started being violently sick. I shivered and sweated so badly that my sleeping bag became soaking wet. The Scout leaders removed me from the tent and took me to sleep in their hut. When my parents came to collect me the next day, I felt a relief like I'd never felt before. A lot of my 'weird' behaviour did fit with what, in the 80s, was considered to be 'gay'. Adults would comment that I was 'dramatic', 'oversensitive' or 'overemotional'. I worked hard at school and was neat and fastidious – all seen as effeminate traits – earning me the label 'girly swot'. In the working-class north of the 80s, nobody discussed mental health, let alone neurodivergence. There was no way that, as well as being gay, I could entertain the thought that there might be something different about my brain. So I tried to camouflage my weirdness. I copied other people's behaviour and did everything I could to fit in. In 1994, I got into Cambridge University. Here, it was OK to be studious and gay. But I was now different for another reason: as a working-class kid from a comprehensive school, I was in a minority. The other students, mostly from private schools, did impressions of my northern accent. Sometimes, it was affectionate but often it was cruel. One of my tutors used to make me read out my work and encouraged the other students to laugh at me. I trained myself to avoid saying dangerous words like 'cook', 'baby', 'Coke', or that all-time killer for anyone from Lancashire, 'fair hair'. I was often blunt with people, which was put down to my being from the north. But I was also incredibly anxious. For one entire term at Cambridge – in my second year, when I was sharing a room – I woke up every morning and vomited into the sink. In the late 90s, I started working in the media, an industry I knew would be welcoming to gay men. But work pressures seemed to have an impact on me more than others. When plans changed at the last minute, which happened often in TV, I wasn't just stressed, it felt as if the world was ending. In the open-plan office I was surrounded by TVs and radios blasting and colleagues tapping and talking. The noise felt like an assault; but it only seemed to affect me. I got a job as a correspondent on Channel 4 News and became the subject of vitriol. Twitter users commented I was 'ridiculously camp' or 'double gay, even … he kills my ears'. The late Sunday Times critic AA Gill compared me to another effeminate man, declaring I was 'to arts reporting what Wayne Sleep was to darts'. Although everyone is affected by criticism, with me it caused a hollow ache that lasted for weeks. It hurt so much because I assumed the abuse was homophobic. It took me right back to the school playground. Working on a separate TV documentary series, I was told it had to be re-edited to make me less camp. I objected but received an email response telling me to 'MAN UP'. Of course, this could be upsetting to anyone. But I couldn't control my fury. The bosses told me I was behaving 'hysterically' – and I probably was. But I was also scared by how badly I'd lost control of my emotions. As a teenager, I'd discovered that alcohol could not only calm my anxiety but also allowed me to be a different version of myself; one that wasn't shy but funny and outrageous. On any night out, I'd be the one more drunk than anyone else, doing whatever it took to get a laugh, stripteasing or skinny-dipping, initiating games of spin the bottle. As I moved up the career ladder, the parties I went to became more extravagant: I went to events sponsored by record labels where I was picked up in limos and plied with champagne. I was often at celebrity parties. I got so drunk at one event that Tara Palmer-Tomkinson told me that I looked wasted. I struggled to maintain romantic relationships, with boyfriends often rejecting me for being 'full-on', and fell into a cycle of casual sex. Growing up, the few gay men I'd seen portrayed in the media were hypersexual – so I just thought this was what we did. At the end of many a night out I'd stagger on to a sex club or sauna for anonymous, sometimes reckless sex. Twice, I was robbed by a man I'd taken home. By the time I hit 30 I'd never had a boyfriend. It also dawned on me that I'd never had sex sober. I became lonely – terribly, breathtakingly, soul-shatteringly lonely. I decided to pursue my childhood dream and started writing fiction. But my first novel, the loosely autobiographical The Madonna of Bolton, was rejected by agents and publishers for 10 years. Much of the rejection was homophobic: one editor called my manuscript 'too explicit for comfort'; another said that having a gay character was too 'niche'. I thought the cutting despair I felt was gay shame, that after a childhood of absorbing the message that my sexuality was wrong, this was still what I believed deep down. Perhaps it was also why my drinking had become so self-destructive and I was punishing myself by engaging in dangerous sex. I started seeing a therapist, and quit drinking. I crowdfunded that first book, and it was followed by more successful novels with a traditional publisher. My childhood dream had come true – but I couldn't enjoy it. I still experienced homophobia, with one publisher commenting that she didn't want me to be 'so explicit on the wider LGTB [sic] issues'. And I struggled to deal with the publishing industry's treatment of working-class authors, especially when contracts took 10 months to process or royalty payments were late by up to 18 months. While some authors can be diplomatic in these situations, I was told by my agent that I was rude and lacked tact. I'd become fixated on the injustice, a storm raging in my head for weeks. A few years ago a younger family member began to be investigated for autism. So I started researching it beyond the stereotypes. I learned that autism can express itself differently from person to person. While some people are hypersensitive to sounds and touch, others can be hyposensitive – the opposite. The same is true of emotions. I learned that the autistic spectrum isn't a straight line going from less autistic to more autistic; some people liken it to a pie chart, with different sized slices representing different traits and abilities. I wondered whether autism could explain some of my behaviour. But as far as I knew, autistic people were also supposed to be devoid of empathy, whereas I struggled to control mine: I got so wound up watching Mr Bates vs the Post Office that I couldn't sleep for weeks. Autistic people were supposed to struggle with relationships. But I'd had several close friendships for decades and by this time I'd fallen in love and got married. Then a member of my husband's family was diagnosed with autism, and I couldn't help but wonder whether our relationship worked because he was used to people whose brains were wired differently. In June 2024, I spoke to my GP. I was referred to a team of clinical psychologists specialising in late-in-life diagnosis. It's difficult to untangle behaviour that's symptomatic of neurodivergence from a personality that has been formed over decades of life experience; in my case, hyper-sensitivity and anger as a result of sustained homophobia and class snobbery. There was a waiting list of several months, pages of forms to fill in, and interviews with figures from my childhood that culminated in a five-hour assessment. You are autistic, they said. When I heard the words, my heart was hammering, my breath short and fast. But mainly what I felt was relief. After years of being misunderstood – of misunderstanding myself – I finally had the right framework to build up a better picture of who I truly am. A lot of my behaviour started to make sense: twiddling my security blanket was what I now recognise as 'stimming' or self-stimulatory behaviour. As was my repetition of certain words and phrases, a habit known as 'echolalia'. Then I learned that rejection sensitive dysphoria and emotional dysregulation are common among autistic people. As is anxiety, although autism in itself doesn't produce anxiety, rather it seems to be caused by the challenges of living as a neurodivergent person in a neurotypical world. I was also diagnosed with ADHD, so needed to get my head around a second condition too. I discovered that some characteristics of autism and ADHD work against each other: autism needs routine and my ADHD needed spontaneity. But other characteristics overlap to create a heightened experience: I used alcohol to calm the anxiety produced by living with autism and, as ADHD causes lower levels of dopamine in the brain, I was driven to activities that boosted it – binge-drinking, risky sex. Understanding this released me from years of self-blame and guilt. In time, I've come to see that my neurodivergence has advantages. I feel emotions intensely but this also includes positive emotions such as happiness and joy. My capacity for emotion and empathy has been a great help in writing character-based fiction. My obsessive nature and need to spend long periods on my own mean I'm suited to immersing myself in the fictional worlds I create. And, while my ADHD helps ignite the initial sparks of creativity, my autism kicks in to make sure I knuckle down and bring these ideas to fruition. But I have also felt profound grief. This is primarily for the past, for all the missed opportunities, all the things I lost or had taken away from me. All the times I was criticised for behaviours that I didn't realise were symptomatic of my autism. I also wonder what my life would have looked like if I had been diagnosed earlier: would I have applied for Cambridge or the job at Channel 4 News? Would I have persisted in writing fiction if I'd known that the rejection would cause me so much hurt? Of course, I should have been able to do these things with accommodations made for my neurodivergence, but the reality is that these allowances didn't exist 30 – or even 10 – years ago. I'm beginning to make adjustments to my life, securing the accommodations I need. I've invested in noise-reducing earplugs, a weighted blanket that regulates my nervous system, and no longer stop myself singing randomly musicalised phrases. I only commit to social occasions I know make me feel good about myself. Likewise, I avoid sensory environments I know will make me uncomfortable and recover from sensory overwhelm by going for long walks in nature. Professionally, I ask for clear, unambiguous communication and I've also switched literary agents; my new representative handles the business side of my career to avoid any conflict. Recently, there have been claims that autism is being 'over-diagnosed'. Given that it took me until the age of 50 to receive a diagnosis, I'd challenge this. I'd also like to challenge some of the stereotypes that prevail – not to mention the prejudice. Now I've written this article, I accept that I'll always be seen as autistic. Some people might use this against me; if I have any disagreements, my point of view could be dismissed as an expression of my autism. But I also know that, at 50, there's probably less time ahead of me than there is behind. And with that knowledge, I embark on a new journey, to finally start living as myself, to embrace my neurodivergence and create a life that works best for me. I'm ready. Matt Cain's latest novel One Love is published by Headline (£9.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply. Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.
Telegraph
12 hours ago
- Business
- Telegraph
New bond paying 7.5pc interest launched – should you buy it?
Investors can beat top savings interest rates thanks to a new 'retail bond', which pays the equivalent of an annual rate of 7.5pc until its maturity in July 2030. The rate far exceeds the current best five-year bond listed on The Telegraph's best buy list – currently Raisin UK's 4.26pc offer. So, what's the catch – and should you buy? The fixed-rate bond, which will be traded on the London Stock Exchange like a share, is being offered by Belong, a care home operator with a special focus on dementia patients. Belong, a charity established in 1991, currently has eight villages in north England, with a ninth site due to open next year. While the 7.5pc interest, paid twice a year, is likely to appeal to savers and investors alike, there are key differences between savings accounts and so-called retail bonds. Cash held in savings accounts in the UK is protected by the Financial Services Compensation Scheme (FSCS) up to £85,000 per institution. Belong's retail bonds, however, are not covered by the scheme – if the charity were to go bust, there would be no guarantee that investors would receive their money back. While these bonds have risks, they are not 'mini-bonds', the advertising of which has been banned by the Financial Conduct Authority (FCA). The most well-known mini-bond scandal was that of London Capital & Finance, which has been described as Britain's biggest Ponzi scheme. Belong's retail bonds, however, will be traded publicly on the London Stock Exchange, so investors have the reassurance that the stock exchange's requirements have been met. When it begins trading on July 8, the bond will be available via stockbrokers AJ Bell, Hargreaves Lansdown and Interactive Investor. By being listed on the stock exchange, the bond also offers itself up to scrutiny by the market, which can signal its collective opinion via its price. If the price of the bond falls, for example, holders may be alerted to concerns over Belong's financial health and could have the opportunity to exit, albeit at a probable loss. Nonetheless, retail bonds are far from risk-free. Holders of a retail bond issued by Wasps, the rugby club, received just £7.4m back out of a total £35.2m when their bonds matured in 2022, after the club went into administration. Proceeds of Belong's new 7.5pc bonds will be initially used to cover a tender offer for holders of the existing 4.5pc bonds, which are due to mature next year, in order to ease its refinancing risk. Any remaining capital raised has been earmarked for 'charitable objectives', including the development of new care villages. If Belong goes bust, the bonds may remain listed on the stock exchange, which means investors could still sell their bonds – but again, this would almost certainly be for much less than they paid. Value investors may be tempted to scoop up the bonds at a discount if they believed they would be repaid through the sale of Belong's assets. There is no guarantee that Belong's bonds would remain listed in the event that it went bust – this would be up to the London Stock Exchange. Retail investors hoping to purchase the bonds have until June 30 to do so, with a minimum initial subscription amount of £500 and increments of £100 thereafter. Interest payments will be made on January 7 and July 7 each year, with the first due in January 2026. Rachel Springall, of consumer finance website Moneyfacts, said: 'Investing puts any capital at risk, so this option will not be suitable for every saver. Seeking advice to go over all the options out there while also considering someone's appetite for risk is essential. 'Those who prefer a more traditional savings account will find the top access accounts and fixed rate bonds pay above 4pc, and they can earn over 5pc on some regular savings accounts.'
Yahoo
a day ago
- Business
- Yahoo
Rachel Reeves Made A Big Speech But The Bored Workers Behind Her Stole The Show
Rachel Reeves made a big speech on the government's spending plans – but ended up being overshadowed by the bored workers made to stand behind her. The chancellor visited a bus factory in Rochdale to announce billions of pounds worth of transport projects across the north of England and the Midlands – areas where Labour are now under threat from Reform UK. She also used the 30-minute speech to attack Nigel Farage's party and the Tories, while setting out Labour's economic vision for the UK. The set-piece address comes ahead of next week's government spending review, when Reeves will set out how much money each Whitehall department will get from the Treasury over the next three years. However, the chancellor's aides may well be regretting forcing some of the factory's workers to stand behind her as she delivered the speech, which was shown live on Sky News. Users of X were quick to point out the 'terrible optics' for Reeves of clearly-bored members of the public watching on as she addressed the nation. I don't think I've ever seen a more bored audience standing behind a cabinet minister. Terrible optics for Rachel Reeves. — Ben Bloch (@realBenBloch) June 4, 2025 Bloke on the left is the star of the show so far — Jack Elsom (@JackElsom) June 4, 2025 Me when Rachel Reeves says '£22bn black hole' for the 5th time within a minute. — Chris Rose (@ArchRose90) June 4, 2025 I think the guy second left sums up how we all feel listening to Rachel Reeves. — Roy Hayes (@lroyhayes) June 4, 2025 Another ministerial speech in a workplace where a bunch of workers have been dragged in to stand behind the podium and look thoroughly bored by the whole thing. Which is surely not the look the comms team is going for... — Olly Barratt (@ollybarratt) June 4, 2025 The workforce being made to stand behind Rachel Reeves look suicidal. Is it possible to be bored to death? Surely this abuse is prohibited by employment laws. — Marieanna 🇵🇸🇱🇧 (@MarieannaONeill) June 4, 2025 Who thought it was a good idea to put Rachel Reeves in front of one of these 'workers of factories' audiences to speak 🤦🏼♂️ — Tis Me... (@EvointheMill) June 4, 2025 You've got to feel for the local bus workers in Rochdale who've been on their feet for the best part of an hour to act as a backdrop for Rachel Reeves's transport speech sure how much they're enjoying the experience. Hope they're wearing comfortable shoes. — Rob Parsons (@RobParsonsNorth) June 4, 2025 Why do Labour think forcing a load of obviously bored and disinterested people to stand behind them is a good look ? — Dave Redman (@r88754702) June 4, 2025 Rachel Reeves To Spend Billions In Red Wall In Bid To See Off Reform Threat Rachel Reeves Sends Message To Labour MPs Unhappy About Welfare Cuts Exclusive: Rachel Reeves Has Been Involved In Talks On Changing Labour's Winter Fuel Payment Policy
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Business
- The Guardian
Blue Labour group urges ministers to ‘root out DEI' to win over Reform voters
The Labour faction influencing Downing Street's pitch to Reform UK voters has urged ministers to 'root out DEI'. An article from the Blue Labour campaign group, titled What is to be Done, calls for the government to legislate against diversity, equity and inclusion, echoing the rightwing backlash from Donald Trump and Nigel Farage. Describing itself as part of a tradition of 'conservative socialism', the caucus was founded in 2009 by the academic Maurice Glasman, now a Labour peer. It includes the MPs Dan Carden, Jonathan Brash, Jonathan Hinder and David Smith, who represent seats in the north of England. Keir Starmer's turn to the right and framing of Labour as 'the party of patriotism' mirror Blue Labour thinking. Urging the party to renew its 'covenant with the British people', Blue Labour's article said: 'We are proud of our multiracial democracy and we utterly reject divisive identity politics, which undermines the bonds of solidarity between those of different sexes, races and nationalities. 'We should legislate to root out DEI in hiring practices, sentencing decisions and wherever else we find it in our public bodies.' Earlier this week, the Guardian reported how organisations are rebranding inclusion initiatives to avoid unwanted political attention, reflecting a divergence between trade bodies and employers who believe policies designed to ensure a level playing field are good for business and society, and reactionary politicians. In February, the equalities minister, Seema Malhotra, said the government was 'absolutely committed' to diversity and inclusion, with new legislation that would compel employers with more than 250 staff to report on ethnicity and disability pay gaps progressing though parliament. Launching the consultation on the equality (race and disability) bill, which closes on 10 June, the disability minister, Stephen Timms, and Malhotra said the 'commitment to create a more equal society in which people can thrive whatever their background' was an 'essential element' of Labour's project. They added: 'The reality is far from that goal. For example, currently most ethnic minority groups earn on average less than their white British peers. Similarly, while there has been growth in employment rates for disabled people in recent years, disabled people have, on average, lower incomes than non-disabled people. While previous Labour governments introduced landmark … equality-related legislation, more still remains to be done.' However, since this year's local elections, when Reform gained a foothold in local government after seizing scores of seats from Labour, the prime minister has appeared to be trying to counter the threat from Farage by moving further to the cultural right, despite the risk of losing support from minority ethnic voters, who were more likely than white voters to support Labour in the last general election, and left-leaning voters in general. In mid-May, ministers were forced to strongly deny allegations that Starmer sounded like Enoch Powell in a speech that said Britain risked becoming an 'island of strangers', and that 'uncontrolled' migration had done 'incalculable damage', as he launched plans to curb net migration. Blue Labour calls for lower migration in the same article in which it takes aim at DEI, saying: 'Immigration is not a distraction or a culture war issue; it is the most fundamental of political questions, a cause of social fragmentation, and the basis of our broken political economy. 'We should drastically reduce immigration, reducing low-skill immigration by significantly raising salary thresholds; closing the corrupt student visa mill system; and ending the exploitation of the asylum system, if necessary prioritising domestic democratic politics over the rule of international lawyers.' In May, it emerged that net migration almost halved in 2024.
Yahoo
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Craig David hoping to bring a 'massive night' to fans at new Cumbrian music festival
BRITISH music icon Craig David is bringing his TS5 show to Carlisle next month - and he is promising to bring a 'massive night' to the city. Craig shared his excitement ahead of his performance at Carlisle Weekender, which will take place at Brunton Park Stadium on June 6. The multi-platinum selling artist, known for hits such as '7 Days', 'Fill Me In', and 'Walking Away', will headline the event with his TS5 show as part of a star-studded weekend line-up. Speaking exclusively to News & Star about the upcoming show, Craig shared his enthusiasm for returning to the North of England. "I'm looking forward to coming to Carlisle for the Weekender," he said. "There's always such a great energy up north, and I can't wait to bring the party to Brunton Park with my TS5 show. 'It will be a massive night with all the classics, and some fresh tunes. TS5 blends my DJ roots with live vocals – it's always a vibe, and I know the Carlisle crowd will bring that energy!" The Carlisle Weekender is set to be one of the most significant music events in the county this year, with thousands expected to attend. Since bursting onto the scene with his debut album, 'Born To Do It', a genre-defining record that established Craig David as one of the UK's most beloved artists, Craig has since remained at the helm of his own unique, authentically British sound. He has helped bring garage music from the underground to the forefront of the mainstream, and become one of the most successful artists in UK chart history. "I've been working on some cool projects and I'm really looking forward to releasing my new album 'Commitment' on August 8," he added. 'Touring and visiting different cities worldwide are among the best parts of the job. I always want to make sure it's a night people remember. TS5 is about that live connection – mixing tracks, performing, and creating an unforgettable night." Craig David's performance at the Carlisle Weekender marks his latest stop in a busy summer, and he's determined to make it a highlight of the summer. "I'm looking forward to seeing everyone there – let's make it special," he said. The Carlisle Weekender, which takes place on June 6 and 7 at Brunton Park Stadium, features acts such as Dizzee Rascal, Gabrielle, Gok Wan, and Sigala. Tickets are on sale and available via
