Millionaire mixed tape: Track 1

Introducing bits of my memoir

Welcome back! I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year and aren’t too upset by January, the cruellest month.

Knowing that everyone’s depressed at this time of year actually makes me happy - not because I revel in other peoples’ misery, but because it sets such a low bar. Not like the summer when everyone is gladhopping¹ about because the sun’s out and everything’s wonderful, which I find is sometimes too much pressure.

Anyway…

Before Christmas I had the very great pleasure of being Daniel Puzzo’s first video podcast in which we had a great chat about all things nostalgia and admitted that neither of us had ever watched Home Alone. We also discussed our plans for Substack 2025. I mooted the idea that I’d start posting bits of my memoir - a project I started last summer and got distracted by. I realised that I could take advantage of my weekly posting rhythm to get it going again.

So here it is! I’m not sure if it will be of interest. If it gets no likes, and if followers start fleeing the hills, then of course I’ll revert to my previous thoughts and musings because anything for subscribers!

Track 1: Money talks

Not these days, but when I was younger and would meet new people, and then get to the bit where they’d ask you about your parents, and you’d say they were divorced, they’d take that as being The Awful Event. Everyone has an Awful Event of their own by their teens. And it’s used as a quick identifier.

Emma has dyslexia, Karen is an only child, Linda’s brother’s in a wheelchair.

But divorce wasn’t really the defining Awful Event for me. It was merely one of many moderately awful ones among others. To put it another way, if my parents hadn’t split up by then it would have been strange, such were the events of the time. But it seemed to get attention – the headmaster invited me to his office for a chat, asking if it was acrimonious, which I nodded at because I thought it meant harmonious (I didn’t want him to feel bad).

I could have done with some of this scrutiny a lot earlier, when things were really stressful, but I think, back then, it was just too subtle; there was nothing really devastatingly noticeable or alarming that other people could point to, and no reason to intervene. British people tend not to intervene anyway of course; you have to be doing something really terrible such as chopping up a cat in public for them to cough politely and ask if everything is ok. But once things were in the ‘divorce’ box, everyone could relax, offer their condolences, and get on with their days.

Nowadays things are different. We live in a culture of radical openness. You’re not really anyone unless you have blue hair, one leg and an unfortunate tic. Speak your truth. Let it all out. Be here now. (Sorry, I think that’s an Oasis album).

But in the 80s and 90s things that tend to get talked about on podcasts, blogs and The One Show didn’t see the light of day. There was no platform for the individual and no way of working things out. So if you experienced something that didn’t fall into a broad category, you’d just have to carry it around with you, wait for the anxiety and depression to kick in, before going into years of therapy to get to the bottom of it.

What then? If you’ve read The Nostalgia Project, you’ll know I’m interested in the broader cultural context of the 80s and 90s. But to be honest, I’m also interested in that period from my own perspective. Writing about it helps me to understand why that time had such a lasting impact on me. Was it because I was young, impressionable and ultra sensitive? Or was it because it took place among shoulder pads, chicken kievs and the work of Five Star²?

Dirty cash

There are lots of elements of childhood that can have a lingering impact, but I think the one that ties it all together for me is money. Particularly how financial instability can seep into the fabric of your emotional and familial world, stir up feelings that last a lifetime, and in my case, even draw you to a career that constantly reminds you of it.

Of course, money is deeply psychological for most of us. It’s not just about numbers on a spreadsheet, it’s about security, identity, and control. Money shapes how we see ourselves and how we think others see us. It’s tied to status, self-worth, and even love. For many, it represents freedom and opportunity, but for others, it can carry the weight of shame, fear, and trauma.

When you grow up watching money unravel the foundations of your family, it stops being a neutral tool and becomes something far more complex. But there’s a certain satisfaction in being able to unravel it all.

And that’s what I’d like to do here. So welcome to my mixed tape of memories that touch on money, class, mental health, and of course, the work of Five Star.

Thanks for reading! Please ‘like’ it if you did, or even comment. I love to chat. Track 2 next time, once I’ve thought of another money-related pop song to use as a header.

1. I can’t think of the word I’m looking for so I’ve made one up.

2. Five Star (also styled as 5 Star) were a British pop group, formed in 1983 and comprising siblings Stedman, Lorraine, Denise, Doris, and Delroy Pearson.