2 - Portsmouth and Cardiff

How to describe this errant life, uprooted, but still refusing to give up and go back to France? I was upset at 'France' because of my upbringing, that I had found constrained and judgemental. Now in England, I felt so free. Though I put myself in many situations that I thought I could handle as I was an adult, but I often found them overwhelming. Inside myself, I felt like a 7 years old playing 'adult life'. I don't know how I survived. I often felt I was protected by 'something', or 'someone'.

I stayed mainly in the South of England; starting in Surrey, moving around this county and neighbourhood counties. After a year or 2, I moved to Portsmouth, thinking it would be a 'lovely coastal town'. There, I had the worst ever time and work experience in my life, in a horrible smelly, toiletries factory for M&S, where an older woman threatened to beat me up for flirting with a "boy" who was her favourite.
From working there for many weeks, I became quite intolerant of perfumes and artificial fragrances (hence the warning about “Don't wear too much deodorant or aftershave, if any” on this website!)

It is also in Portsmouth that I had my first drug experience, being anti-drug myself, I had managed to avoid it so far, even though I was always surrounded by people who took it. Once, an ex-boyfriend that I didn't like nor trust very much, spiked my drink in a club. As I wasn't drinking it, as I didn't like to drink much alcohol and often left unfinished glasses, he insisted we took it to his home with us and I should drink it there. It didn't come to my mind that his insistence was slightly odd.
(Don't ask me why he was an ex-boyfriend; I had such low self-esteem at the time that any man that showed any interest in me was taken as a honour and a blessing, and I would go out with them, since they were doing me a favour! I usually slept with them very quickly, as again, I wasn't worth much and if they wanted to sleep with me, it may not happen again with anyone else and it was an honour – but anyway, this one never got me!)

The drug was ecstasy. Strange experience, back into childhood I was, at first remembering memories of 'abuse' with one of my siblings, but despite those memories, I was happy, endlessly chatting and running around like a 5 year old in the flat. (as well as avoiding the sexual contact with the ex-boyfriend, quite strangely, even though he tried)
When I realised I was acting quite strange, as well as feeling suddenly very shaky, I asked him and made him admit what he had done. I thought I was going to die when I realised he had slipped something chemical in my drink... I saw him walking around with a kitchen knife and felt so scared that he was going to kill me, as well as me dying from the chemical effect...I managed to call some acquaintances who came to get me with a taxi, and I was ill for days afterwards. The paranoia from the ecstasy seemed to last months, and the feelings of the drugs came back a couple of times in odd places. It was bad, but I am glad it happened, looking back. It made me less rigid, but mostly it taught me to not be so trusting (particularly when something tells me not to trust!)

It also taught me that when we are too stern or unacceptant about something, life often puts it on our way, as we attract it, somehow. Because I was so anti-drugs, I made myself vulnerable to others who enjoy to convert. If I had laughed about it, it probably would not have happened, as there would be no rigidity in me the person would have wanted to turn around.
I don't remember what else happened in Portsmouth, but I eventually realised that there really was no work for me there, and people were too weird, so I moved back to Surrey, where people weren't as weird but where I was unhappy.

Even though I grew older and I was moving forward in the understanding of who I was, I still found it difficult to make friends after a few years, as I was so shy and suspicious of everyone. As a result, I started disliking England in a similar way that I disliked France, blaming it for my unhappiness. I found it 'cold and unfriendly'.
I understood later that this is a perception and it is all in the mind of the beholder. Today, I have a very different life experience with people; I keep meeting fascinating and friendly people almost everywhere! I understand it was the place I was at, then, in myself, I do remember some nice people from that era too, but I was just not able to stick with them or see them for who they were, valuable people.

Because of this, I wondered about how to go about it and gave myself another chance. Since I had heard during my stay that the English 'disliked' the Welsh and the Scots because of ancestry reasons, I thought it would be a good idea to travel to Wales and see if people were warmer, there. Since they had problems with each other, they were bound to be very different.
(Note: I am sorry to show such a negative side of my past; but it is how it felt at the time - I felt very much outside whom I knew I could or wanted to be, but shyness, trauma and an over-sensitive mind make things which should be natural, like caring and wanting contact, shut down. You only need a vision of a nation around you who you feel doesn't accept you, to want to go elsewhere...But it is what it is, a perception)

Off I went to Wales, in my car, and decided to settle in Cardiff, not wanting to repeat a similar experience as with Portsmouth, which had been too small a town to find work. Cardiff was the capital and should be lively enough!

My thoughts brought me to the right place; indeed, I found people much more friendly there, than in Surrey and Portsmouth. To be in contact with the Welsh re-conciliated me with the Brits, or was it my own ability to create links which were more healthy by then? I started feeling like I could be a human being again.
I soon found accommodation in Cardiff, and started looking for work. This was around 1999.
Though, Cardiff was going through a difficult time, and I was soon to realize it, as jobs were very scarce. I managed to find a job in an awful pretend-French restaurant in the high street where the staff was slightly abusive, and left them soon to find another restaurant which was proper French and where the staff were warm and friendly, (Le Cassoulet, which has now closed) . Unfortunately, this restaurant could only give me part-time work.

I attempted to do some canvassing there, and nearly got involved in some scam-like pyramid selling to do with some magic vacuum cleaner which does your washing up, irons your socks and makes your bed in the morning. I remember going into that unimpressive building and into this meeting room for an "interview"; there there was an audience there, and a bloke doing some sort of what I would call "American style motivation", shouting and acting like a Holiday Camp entertainer being filmed for a glamorous TV show. He was getting a lot of the audience really motivated to sell his expensive clutter, clutter which was a requisite to any exemplary home.

The point of the job was that the "associates" had to buy a vacuum cleaner themselves and then flog it to their friends. Doing so with only a few pieces would make them a fortune. I remember running out in the middle of the meeting, rather scared and happy that I had enough of a mind to get out of it before getting sucked in. As I was shy, in those circumstances, I always retracted and watched what was happening, observing the behaviour of the people, mainly of those "in charge" and seeing them take others over and make them do what they want them to do.
It's those experiences which shape a mind... But makes one feel quite isolated.

1-Beginnings
2-Portsmouth and Cardiff
3-Start of the modelling
4-A dream that strips away
5-Beginning of the spiritual search
6-Good bye Cardiff, hello London dream
7-The scariest step in the sex industry:
8-More modelling cases and stories
9-Monsieur Christian
10- Amsterdam Big Brother style
11-Experiences in sado-masochism
12-Pornography (the real thing!)
13- My internet 'porno' site
14-How did I ever get into this?