vindice

This I know, because as much as I hate that pungent tangerine of a man I did ask him to autograph the front of my programme after the Gala performance of Billy Elliot. Also Louis Walsh, Stephen Daldry and Elton John. ELTON JOHN!! I'd have liked to have completed the X-Factor trio, and as of course you know, el Kid was the real reason I was standing out in the rain at midnight, in London, on a work night. But both Sharon Osbourne and Liam Mower snuck past us while our backs were turned. What complete rodents.

By the way, if you plan on becoming famous at any stage, I suggest you perfect the Showbiz 'Sure.' It must be said in the tersest of ways, like when somebody asks, 'can I read that Metro after you?' and you're all like, 'well, I'm not actually reading it anyway.' I'd snuck out during the finale, and hotfooted it round to the stage door before the rest of the fanatics. So when anyone came out, me and my hat were the first things they ran into. I wave my programme and pen at Stephen and ask, "would you mind?" and he's all like, "oh, sure." "Simon, would you mind?" "oh, sure." Some other dude goes, "Simon, can I have a photo?" "oh, sure."

So, no photograph of me looking paralysed with anxiety at standing next to Liam. But I do have one of those limited-edition, signed posters of him looking doe-eyed in the Elton John video. I didn't buy it, it was purchased for me while I was eavesdropping on conversations in the ladies' toilets. These conversations - and the ones in the bar - involve people who've seen the show more than once or twice expressing the conviction that no-one else takes your breath away like Liam does. One woman said sheepishly, "actually, this is the first time I've seen the show," and a group of others immediately told her, "don't ever see it with anyone else, it won't be as good," which I thought was a bit mean really. Lots of people were saying they wished Liam would never grow up, which I also thought was a bit misguided. I can't wait to see what the boy does when he's older, because if he's elegant, sophisticated, charming, profound, amazingly skilled, spectacularly beautiful and generally breathtaking all at the age of fourteen, WHAT WILL HE BE LIKE WHEN HE'S EIGHTEEN, ZOMG?

Anyway. Instead of an 'x', Liam rounds off his signature with a five pointed star, which made me smile because all of my notebooks and bits of paper I've tried to write on are covered with five-pointed stars. They are the sign of the rabidly ambitious, the fame-craver, the mystic and the idealist. Liam's star is asymmetrical and the lines don't join, which apparently is a sign of excess energy. *shrug*

I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to write and thank you for your support in recent months, and also to apologise for not saying thankyou sooner.
I know that when Liam didn't come to the stage door I thought that you were smiting me. I thought it must be something to do with you because normally he does sign autographs, and I didn't think that my work colleague really had phoned the theatre to warn them about me, even though she threatened to. While I was standing outside the theatre and I started to think that Liam might not come out, I even asked you if you could at least fix this one up for me. I know I should have asked you sooner if I needed a favour, and I realise it must be aggravating for you the way that people only talk to you when they're desperate. It was just that I only wanted to give the kid a hug, and I thought it wasn't too much to ask for, but of course you know that.

But for one thing, I realised that - what with my camera being broken and having to use a disposable - the pictures I did take hadn't come out, and I do know that I'd have been even more fucked off if I had met Liam but had no photos by which to remember the occasion.

Furthermore, and which is closer to the point, I know I'm an ungrateful piece of shit. I haven't particularly felt like I've had my ever whim fulfilled these last ten years, perhaps particularly the last five, and I thought it was because you were angry with me. Time and again I asked you for advice but you never seemed to answer. I thought it was unfair of you to not at least tell me what I was doing wrong when I had shown willing to put it right.

The folk I used to hang out with at psychic circles and stuff generally said that a party dude like you only hangs out in places where people are happy, and also that our unhappiness was of our own creation. They didn't think that you sent trials to test us or improve us - being miserable wasn't of any productive value, it was simply evidence of one's lack of enlightenment. It was only I who was punishing myself, and when I decided to allow myself to be happy, I'd start noticing that you had always been around.

And you know Nick Cave? He also believes that we generate our own misery, but I believe he's more of the opinion that we do it for a productive reason - being unhappy opens us to the search for greater meaning, which facilitates our artistic creativity and ultimately our recognition of you, sir. I don't know if that's true. It's certainly true that if I didn't have plenty to moan about my books would look pretty slim on the shelf, but no-one but a 16 year old Manics fan would aspire to the tortured artist clich, would they? But you know the way I always seem to make the same mistakes over and over, always doing the same stupid-munt things? I kind of had an idea the other day that it might not be true that this happens as a sign to me that I'm on the wrong track. It might not be that I will continue to be a douche-bag just until I learn how to address you properly. It might actually be that you are addressing me and that these things might not be wrong, but I think I'll have to explain that better on another day.

You know, I didn't even want to see Billy Elliot - The Musical in the first place, and I thought it was downright cruel of you to throw me into the path of Liam Mower like that. After I'd seen him, I felt worse than I had before because it was as though you'd made me aware of how much beauty, creativity and inspiration there was in the world, and that all of that was what I was missing out on.

I liked seeing someone so young having achieved something as exciting as Liam had done, because (as you know) when I was that age I was determined to have a book published before I left school, but all the adults around me were so geared towards the notion that I'd grow up, enter the 'real world,' get a job and maybe write the occasional short story in my spare time. Of course, that's what I've done and it feels as though their prophesies for me have been self-fulfilled. So I've enjoyed seeing Liam get as much recognition for his talent as he has done. It made me feel pretty jealous, but I also felt inspired. Like he reminded me why I used to have so much confidence that I'd be a writer - if a 12 year old can lead a West End musical, it shouldn't be too unfeasible that an 18 year old could write a novel. But by the start of this year I'd actually begun to think that I wasn't really a good writer after all, and maybe the ambition I had when I was younger had all just been foolishness.

The Musical has been a total turning point. When I came back from London the second time, I just switched my computer straight on and started writing a novel. I'm more than half way through now and I think by February it'll be finished. If I hadn't seen Liam, life would still be stagnant. Would I ever write a novel?

Imagine! It was a funny sort of epiphany, let me tell you, when I realised that far from intending to make me more aware of my misery, what you've actually done is given me a muse. I think it was astonishingly kind of you, and I do appreciate that it's the kind of present you would have to wait ten years for.

Anyway, Lord, assuming that it was you who broke my camera (when you KNOW I had to sell my Canon Pro 1 and that the MegaPix was the only one I had left), I would still like to know why you didn't see fit to let me have that hug the other night. But I understand if you can't tell me your reasons yet.

So, sincerest thanks for the muse. I am touched. I also agree that it was best I didn't know Liam was my muse when I wrote him that letter, because he might not have understood. Perhaps he will when he's older, and maybe that's what you're waiting for, but you don't have to tell me.

If I don't speak to you again before Christmas, I hope you have a good advent, and I'll see you at your house on Christmas Eve.

Lots of love,

Hannah
xx

p.s. Please send some nice treats to anyone who has read this far in my journal.