Free Becoming Myself: The True Story of Thomas Who Became Sara by Sara Jane Cromwell Page A

‘There is, if you put a cloth over the bucket.’ So, off I went again like the proverbial turkey to the slaughter and asked Charlie for the bucket of steam and if he would mind letting me have a cloth to cover it. He said he hadn’t got a cloth, but that the steam would stay in the bucket if I ran with it to the fitter’s workshop. I did, but surprise, surprise, there was no steam left in the bucket by the time I got to the workshop a mere twenty feet away! I displayed this kind of naïveté a few times before I copped on.
    One of my jobs was to clean the canteen and later on the games room. The lads used to leave their unfinished lunches behind and I would eat some of them, because I frequently left home without any breakfast or lunch and had no money to get anything from the shops, having spent the little I had over the previous weekend, or having loaned it to my mother. This was only one step up from the times when I picked sweets up from the ground on my way to and from school because I had no money at all and it was better than going hungry.
    At this stage, I was making my first tentative attempts at dating, without much success it has to be said. I met a girl in Weavex and fell head over heels for her. I was irrepressible in my efforts to get her to go out on a date with me, but it was to no avail, though we did become friends and I got to visit her at her home on Ballyfermot Road. I would find out what music she liked and I would make sure to bring along her favourite singers, Glen Campbell, the New Seekers and The Stylistics. One of her all-time favourite songs was, ‘HoneyCome Back’, and I tried to woo her by singing it at the top of my voice, much to her chagrin. I still blush thinking about it.
    For some time I had fancied that I would write a song. She inspired me to do just that. I can’t remember them now, but there were quite a few and they were very intense. It was much later that I figured out that I had been writing the kinds of songs that I would have wanted someone to write for me. Alas, she remained unimpressed at my gallant efforts. But she couldn’t put me off and for years I wanted to date her more than any other girl I knew.
    At a dinner dance at the Fitzpatrick Hotel in Portmarnock, she looked beautiful in her cream floral dress and my heart melted at the sight of her, but she would not dance with me, much to my frustration and disappointment. I have such strong memories of that night and of the Chicago song: ‘If you Leave me Now’, as I felt that she was not to be mine. She had left Weavex shortly before this event and it was to be the last time I saw her for another two years, and in the most unexpected place.
    I loved to sing and I did plenty of it while working in Weavex. The lads on the night shift would ask me to sing for them whenever I was working late. My favourite song at that time was ‘Power to All our Friends’ by Cliff Richard and ‘Red, Red Wine’ sung by Neil Diamond. When I sang ‘Power to All our Friends’, I did the same actions to the song that Cliff had done in the Eurovision Song Contest. I would stretch my arm into the air while bringing my knees together. The guys loved it and found it very entertaining.
    However, as much fun as we had at work, bullying was frequent. One very hot summer’s day in 1976, another worker and I were working extremely hard unloading and loading aforty-foot container in sweltering heat. No surprise then that we were sweating like the proverbial pigs. When we needed to take a break, we went in behind the sewing machines where it was nice and cool. The next thing we heard, a girl called out to the supervisor at the top of her voice: ‘Girls, can you get a terrible smell? Jean, Jean there’s a terrible smell over here.’
    The supervisor came over and started to sniff in an exaggerated fashion. She then came over to where we were standing and proceeded to sniff me from head to toe. ‘Jaysus, you smell like a smelly dog. Stay there