Printed in the Derby Telegraph, the Nottingham Post and the Derbyshire Times in November 2024.
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Dear Editor,
Playwright Shelagh Delaney was criticised for the ‘unsatisfactory’ ending of A Taste of Honey. It was seen to be both sad and, somehow, incomplete.
She argued that it simply reflected real life which does not always turn out as we would wish.
She told people not to worry about Geoffrey - the gentle and kind homosexual who, in the final minutes of the film, was turned out of his home with nowhere to live.
‘Geoffrey will be OK.’
In composing Secret Summer which is about my great love, I was faced with the same problem of how to conclude my novel.
If readers want a happy ending, where should the story end? Along the continuum of life, there are days when we are happy and days when we are not.
Real life is like that. And all my titles are about real life and real people within the LGBT community.
On the last page of Secret Summer, I address my readers directly. My boyfriend and I would have preferred to be ‘strangers in paradise’- lovers who meet in a lovely garden, under the whispering leaves of a mulberry tree, as did the Caliph and his true love in Kismet.
Alas, we met in a gay bathhouse - but that did not make my great love any the less great or less fulfilling.
Many gay men of my generation met in a similar way. This does not diminish a life changing, profound relationship.
Under pressure from well-meaning friends, I contrived that the lovers in my book were ecstatically happy on an evening of blissful reconciliation and delightful reunion against a backdrop of magnificent sunset of brilliant red, purple and gold. It was cold, but they cuddled together to keep warm.
It made an all-important physical connection which continued to weave its magical spell – continued to keep them together.
I resisted the temptation to reach for the traditional ending to a fairytale love story. The old cliché - and they lived happily ever after - would have to be implied rather than spoken, if I was to be completely honest.
Narvel Annable
Playwright Shelagh Delaney was criticised for the ‘unsatisfactory’ ending of A Taste of Honey. It was seen to be both sad and, somehow, incomplete.
She argued that it simply reflected real life which does not always turn out as we would wish.
She told people not to worry about Geoffrey - the gentle and kind homosexual who, in the final minutes of the film, was turned out of his home with nowhere to live.
‘Geoffrey will be OK.’
In composing Secret Summer which is about my great love, I was faced with the same problem of how to conclude my novel.
If readers want a happy ending, where should the story end? Along the continuum of life, there are days when we are happy and days when we are not.
Real life is like that. And all my titles are about real life and real people within the LGBT community.
On the last page of Secret Summer, I address my readers directly. My boyfriend and I would have preferred to be ‘strangers in paradise’- lovers who meet in a lovely garden, under the whispering leaves of a mulberry tree, as did the Caliph and his true love in Kismet.
Alas, we met in a gay bathhouse - but that did not make my great love any the less great or less fulfilling.
Many gay men of my generation met in a similar way. This does not diminish a life changing, profound relationship.
Under pressure from well-meaning friends, I contrived that the lovers in my book were ecstatically happy on an evening of blissful reconciliation and delightful reunion against a backdrop of magnificent sunset of brilliant red, purple and gold. It was cold, but they cuddled together to keep warm.
It made an all-important physical connection which continued to weave its magical spell – continued to keep them together.
I resisted the temptation to reach for the traditional ending to a fairytale love story. The old cliché - and they lived happily ever after - would have to be implied rather than spoken, if I was to be completely honest.
Narvel Annable
Printed in the Derby Telegraph – October 10th 2024
‘Dementia concern for elderly gay people’
Also, printed in the Nottingham Post on the same day
‘Worries for LGBT people living alone’
Dear Editor,
I’ve received several responses to my dementia letter printed in the Derby Telegraph – August 28th
‘Colleagues advice has helped with being gay’
One gay man in particular gave a harrowing account -
‘Forgetfulness happens when you reach a certain age.
‘I went to the Goose Fair. Watching the time, I thought I’d better catch the 10:30pm bus back home. It was Friday and I wouldn't be able to use my bus pass after that time.
‘Chatting to another passenger at the bus stop, I discovered that my bus would not arrive until 11.25. The reason - it was not Friday – it was Saturday!
‘What caused that lapse of memory? God knows. But that is what actually happened.
‘It was particularly frightening because I live on my own. I do stupid things like leaving the gas on in the kitchen.
‘I could end up as a gas casualty - or blow the house up - if I forgot!
‘The other week, I woke up at 3am and smelled burning permeating the house. The enamel was burned off the saucepan which I had put on a low light at 9pm. The peas were like black charred bullets!’
This is indeed alarming! In a recent email, Peter Tatchell told us that LGBTs are at a higher risk of dementia and depression than their heterosexual peers.
Researchers found a 14% increased risk of being diagnosed with dementia and a 27% higher risk of depression in later life.
This study blames a variety of contributions including the constant stress of homosexuals hiding their secret lives from friends and relatives.
The unfortunate single man above suffers the double whammy of being gay together with living alone in isolation.
I’ve been with my husband Terry for the last 48 years. We bounce off each other and constantly check on each other in a supportive relationship. Terry has Alzheimer’s and I’m his carer.
I’m very concerned about all elderly LGBTs who live alone.
Narvel Annable
https://linktr.ee/narvelannable
‘Dementia concern for elderly gay people’
Also, printed in the Nottingham Post on the same day
‘Worries for LGBT people living alone’
Dear Editor,
I’ve received several responses to my dementia letter printed in the Derby Telegraph – August 28th
‘Colleagues advice has helped with being gay’
One gay man in particular gave a harrowing account -
‘Forgetfulness happens when you reach a certain age.
‘I went to the Goose Fair. Watching the time, I thought I’d better catch the 10:30pm bus back home. It was Friday and I wouldn't be able to use my bus pass after that time.
‘Chatting to another passenger at the bus stop, I discovered that my bus would not arrive until 11.25. The reason - it was not Friday – it was Saturday!
‘What caused that lapse of memory? God knows. But that is what actually happened.
‘It was particularly frightening because I live on my own. I do stupid things like leaving the gas on in the kitchen.
‘I could end up as a gas casualty - or blow the house up - if I forgot!
‘The other week, I woke up at 3am and smelled burning permeating the house. The enamel was burned off the saucepan which I had put on a low light at 9pm. The peas were like black charred bullets!’
This is indeed alarming! In a recent email, Peter Tatchell told us that LGBTs are at a higher risk of dementia and depression than their heterosexual peers.
Researchers found a 14% increased risk of being diagnosed with dementia and a 27% higher risk of depression in later life.
This study blames a variety of contributions including the constant stress of homosexuals hiding their secret lives from friends and relatives.
The unfortunate single man above suffers the double whammy of being gay together with living alone in isolation.
I’ve been with my husband Terry for the last 48 years. We bounce off each other and constantly check on each other in a supportive relationship. Terry has Alzheimer’s and I’m his carer.
I’m very concerned about all elderly LGBTs who live alone.
Narvel Annable
https://linktr.ee/narvelannable
Printed in the Derby Telegraph August 28th 2024. Also, in the Nottingham Post on August 30th - and will appear in the October 2024 edition of Ilkeston Life.
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Colleague’s advice has helped with being gay
I’ve been anxious about memory problems since my husband Terry received a formal diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease in June.
We were invited to attended five informative sessions at Dovedale Day Hospital in Derby.
Each week a different theme was presented to help us living with dementia.
One meeting in particular resonated with my early personal experience as a gay man.
Evidence suggests that experiences between the ages of 10 and 30 sticks with us right up to old age. This phenomenon is called the ‘memory bump’.
2025 will be my 80th year when Terry turns 86.
People spoke of music, photographs, familiar places, scents, tastes and keepsakes. We were asked to produce any personal item which was special or precious.
My offering was a key-ring handmade for me in 1961 when I was sixteen.
As an apprentice in a local power station, I became friendly with a small fat man who was especially sympathetic.
He stamped out NARVEL on an identity disc attached to my key-ring. I have kept it with me all these 63 years.
The group leader encouraged me talk about my friend. In contrast to the other workmen, he spoke with beautifully rounded vowels in a soft sighing voice. There was something comfortable and old fashioned about this pleasant little rotundity who was known as Dolly in the gay community.
I sensed disapproval in this gathering of older heterosexuals as I tried to explain the intense anonymity of men who hid behind a nickname like other LGBTs in the 1960s. Above all, they were vague and secretive.
Dolly had perfected a system of disinformation, misdirection, deception and sleight of hand to create an impenetrable wall of secrecy around himself.
His protection, guidance and good advice still improves the quality of my life to this very day.
‘You have a lot to learn, young man,’ cautioned Dolly. ‘We queers are all born criminals into a hostile world where the majority hate us. We are constantly stressed by always having to hide our true selves; many of us are tainted with mental quirks and dysfunctionality. Think yourself fortunate that you’ll always be able to pass as a well-adjusted heterosexual.’
Narvel Annable
Printed in the Worksop Guardian, Friday, June 28th 2024
ONE MAGIC MOMENT
I taught as I was taught in the 1950s. Mr Annable was too strict, too formal, too unwilling to modernise and embrace child-centred trends of the 1980s.
This mindset was a cloak to conceal the continuing anxiety of leading a double life.
Inside, I was a frightened homosexual trying to look like a confident heterosexual on the outside. A stern schoolmaster was sabotaging my efforts to look human and come across as an effective educator.
On one special occasion, a magic moment, I actually achieved a breakthrough and enjoyed a friendly, meaningful relationship with a group of pupils.
Not an easy group! They were boisterous. They were a bunch of ruffians with an appalling reputation throughout the school. Some staff referred to Ronnie, Bobbie and Freddie as ‘challenging behaviour’.
Hard-nosed traditionalists abused them with loutish language and occasional violence to keep order and impose discipline.
This gang of three, by popularity and sheer force of personality, imposed on the rest of the class an influence which could make life very difficult for a teacher who took his work seriously.
On one occasion, after an onerous hour, I dismissed the class but detained the terrible trio.
They were ordered to remain behind, explain their disruptive attitude and suffer a reprimand. I had little confidence in his strategy - but it was worth a try.
Looking back, I tried to reconstruct this extraordinary conference of four and locate the exact point when everything changed between the teacher and his charges.
It happened during a moment when my criticism of Ronnie was interrupted by an effective heartfelt defence from his number two – Bobbie.
Despite limited articulation, Bobbie managed to paint a picture of his best friend who was experiencing all the stresses and chaotic adolescent miseries which could have been a 14-year-old Narvel.
The atmosphere of this coerced punishment suddenly transformed into a voluntary and valuable meeting between four equals. It was a magical moment, a sudden switch from monochrome into glorious Technicolor where three boys wanted to stay and further explain their lives to an adult who was now more counsellor than schoolmaster.
Make no mistake, it was a dodgy situation for me hearing confidential information about colleagues verging on ‘unprofessional conduct’.
I heard distressing details of their home life. A sympathetic ear encouraged further trust to the point that my status as teacher had morphed into the confidentiality of the confessional.
Now treated like a newly acquired friend, I was begged to guard the secrets which had been entrusted to me for safe keeping.
Although the boys hid behind a veneer of defiant swagger, their new confidant concluded that there was indeed a case to answer.
They were victims of an insensitive system all too willing to exploit youths from a deprived background and give three dogs a bad name. Bobbie said,
‘I can’t help the way I speak, sir. It’s me voice, it irritates folk. It’s not my fault, sir. Honest!’
I had always been annoyed by a certain element of insolence in the utterances delivered by Bobbie. There was a sardonic tone which challenged authority and continued to chafe.
Notwithstanding, I accepted that the pupil’s lilt of speech was natural, a part of Bobbie’s personality. It was not intentionally disrespectful.
The new friendship was affirmed, enjoyed by all four. It reduced the stress of teaching in that particular class and, by osmosis; improved my standing in the whole of that 4th Year.
This magical moment which occurred at Worksop’s Valley Comprehensive is detailed in my novel Double Life.
Narvel Annable
I taught as I was taught in the 1950s. Mr Annable was too strict, too formal, too unwilling to modernise and embrace child-centred trends of the 1980s.
This mindset was a cloak to conceal the continuing anxiety of leading a double life.
Inside, I was a frightened homosexual trying to look like a confident heterosexual on the outside. A stern schoolmaster was sabotaging my efforts to look human and come across as an effective educator.
On one special occasion, a magic moment, I actually achieved a breakthrough and enjoyed a friendly, meaningful relationship with a group of pupils.
Not an easy group! They were boisterous. They were a bunch of ruffians with an appalling reputation throughout the school. Some staff referred to Ronnie, Bobbie and Freddie as ‘challenging behaviour’.
Hard-nosed traditionalists abused them with loutish language and occasional violence to keep order and impose discipline.
This gang of three, by popularity and sheer force of personality, imposed on the rest of the class an influence which could make life very difficult for a teacher who took his work seriously.
On one occasion, after an onerous hour, I dismissed the class but detained the terrible trio.
They were ordered to remain behind, explain their disruptive attitude and suffer a reprimand. I had little confidence in his strategy - but it was worth a try.
Looking back, I tried to reconstruct this extraordinary conference of four and locate the exact point when everything changed between the teacher and his charges.
It happened during a moment when my criticism of Ronnie was interrupted by an effective heartfelt defence from his number two – Bobbie.
Despite limited articulation, Bobbie managed to paint a picture of his best friend who was experiencing all the stresses and chaotic adolescent miseries which could have been a 14-year-old Narvel.
The atmosphere of this coerced punishment suddenly transformed into a voluntary and valuable meeting between four equals. It was a magical moment, a sudden switch from monochrome into glorious Technicolor where three boys wanted to stay and further explain their lives to an adult who was now more counsellor than schoolmaster.
Make no mistake, it was a dodgy situation for me hearing confidential information about colleagues verging on ‘unprofessional conduct’.
I heard distressing details of their home life. A sympathetic ear encouraged further trust to the point that my status as teacher had morphed into the confidentiality of the confessional.
Now treated like a newly acquired friend, I was begged to guard the secrets which had been entrusted to me for safe keeping.
Although the boys hid behind a veneer of defiant swagger, their new confidant concluded that there was indeed a case to answer.
They were victims of an insensitive system all too willing to exploit youths from a deprived background and give three dogs a bad name. Bobbie said,
‘I can’t help the way I speak, sir. It’s me voice, it irritates folk. It’s not my fault, sir. Honest!’
I had always been annoyed by a certain element of insolence in the utterances delivered by Bobbie. There was a sardonic tone which challenged authority and continued to chafe.
Notwithstanding, I accepted that the pupil’s lilt of speech was natural, a part of Bobbie’s personality. It was not intentionally disrespectful.
The new friendship was affirmed, enjoyed by all four. It reduced the stress of teaching in that particular class and, by osmosis; improved my standing in the whole of that 4th Year.
This magical moment which occurred at Worksop’s Valley Comprehensive is detailed in my novel Double Life.
Narvel Annable
Printed in the Derbyshire Times on June 20th 2024
All of them now gone
An old man suddenly broke down with uncontrollable weeping – piteous overmastering grief – a kind of hopelessness.
He was mourning the death of a close friend and tried to explain his emotional outburst.
‘I’m so sorry! Please forgive me. It just came over me – what I’ve lost. He was the only link with the past.’
That tragic incident inspired me to embark on a nostalgic walk through the pit village of my birth – Stanley Common, near Ilkeston.
It was a sad progress, reminding me of that poor man’s heartbreaking distress because we are quite alone when the last one who remembers is gone.
There was nothing sad about the weather. It was wall to wall sunshine as I passed many small terraced colliery cottages chronicling my teenage years in the 1950s and 1960s.
Stanley Common is a linear village of gentle accent from east to west, from bottom up to the area known as ‘top common’ at Tansley Avenue.
Some rows of tiny humble homes take their name from the original coal owners who built them for the miners.
Lowes Row on the south side is the onetime home of Aunty Olive Patrick. Olive looked after me like a mother during the first years of my life. Her sister, Aunty Mable and Uncle Arthur Clifton lived a few doors up.
They had four boys, my cousin Ken, Gordon, Keith and Brian Clifton who died at the age of 90 in 2023. One sister, Lorraine, a year or so younger than myself, died this year which is my 79th.
Except for me – all gone!
The shadow of homophobia has weakened my fragile link with all relatives for more than half a century.
Arthur’s sister, my mother Connie, was born in a tiny cottage in 1911 on Brown’s Row facing Lowes Row.
Progressing further up Belper Road, we pass the old football ground [the rec] where Common Lane on the left [south side] meets the main road.
On that corner, I remember an ancient crumbling old house which was demolished in 1958 to make space for the newly built Stanley Common Miners Welfare.
The Land Lord and Land Lady where Jack and Olive Patrick. Sadly, the two sisters Olive and Mable were not on good terms. I recall Olive’s first attempt at darts –
‘I wasn’t keen, but they persuaded me. It was a high score when I threw! They all clapped. And our Mable sat there with a face as long as a fiddle!’
The ongoing feud was especially upsetting to me. These two ladies were more like second mothers than aunts.
1959 saw me a frustrated, deeply repressed 14-year-old. We had a shy and gentle postmaster called Jack Carrier. One day he was there - the next day he was gone!
‘What’s happened to him?’ I asked mother.
‘That one! Huh! Good riddance,’ she snapped. ‘He was one of those funny sorts. No good to any woman,’ she growled.
‘Well, Connie, he was always nicely spoken and polite to me,’ sniffed Aunty Mable, taking another swig of tea.
The effect on me was the same as the effect on hundreds of thousands like me. I hid inside of myself. I became withdrawn and tried to pretend to desire girls. I drifted into a secret world of fear and insecurity.
Mable Clifton’s kind and generous tolerant words meant everything to me on that day 65 years ago.
The Miners Welfare, gleaming new and so proud, endured for decades of happy memories. Eventually, it was demolished and swept away to make room for new houses. All Stanley Common relatives I knew have now passed on.
It started with an old man who broke down in tears mourning the past; like him, I too feel like the only one who remembers those long-gone good people.
Narvel Annable
An old man suddenly broke down with uncontrollable weeping – piteous overmastering grief – a kind of hopelessness.
He was mourning the death of a close friend and tried to explain his emotional outburst.
‘I’m so sorry! Please forgive me. It just came over me – what I’ve lost. He was the only link with the past.’
That tragic incident inspired me to embark on a nostalgic walk through the pit village of my birth – Stanley Common, near Ilkeston.
It was a sad progress, reminding me of that poor man’s heartbreaking distress because we are quite alone when the last one who remembers is gone.
There was nothing sad about the weather. It was wall to wall sunshine as I passed many small terraced colliery cottages chronicling my teenage years in the 1950s and 1960s.
Stanley Common is a linear village of gentle accent from east to west, from bottom up to the area known as ‘top common’ at Tansley Avenue.
Some rows of tiny humble homes take their name from the original coal owners who built them for the miners.
Lowes Row on the south side is the onetime home of Aunty Olive Patrick. Olive looked after me like a mother during the first years of my life. Her sister, Aunty Mable and Uncle Arthur Clifton lived a few doors up.
They had four boys, my cousin Ken, Gordon, Keith and Brian Clifton who died at the age of 90 in 2023. One sister, Lorraine, a year or so younger than myself, died this year which is my 79th.
Except for me – all gone!
The shadow of homophobia has weakened my fragile link with all relatives for more than half a century.
Arthur’s sister, my mother Connie, was born in a tiny cottage in 1911 on Brown’s Row facing Lowes Row.
Progressing further up Belper Road, we pass the old football ground [the rec] where Common Lane on the left [south side] meets the main road.
On that corner, I remember an ancient crumbling old house which was demolished in 1958 to make space for the newly built Stanley Common Miners Welfare.
The Land Lord and Land Lady where Jack and Olive Patrick. Sadly, the two sisters Olive and Mable were not on good terms. I recall Olive’s first attempt at darts –
‘I wasn’t keen, but they persuaded me. It was a high score when I threw! They all clapped. And our Mable sat there with a face as long as a fiddle!’
The ongoing feud was especially upsetting to me. These two ladies were more like second mothers than aunts.
1959 saw me a frustrated, deeply repressed 14-year-old. We had a shy and gentle postmaster called Jack Carrier. One day he was there - the next day he was gone!
‘What’s happened to him?’ I asked mother.
‘That one! Huh! Good riddance,’ she snapped. ‘He was one of those funny sorts. No good to any woman,’ she growled.
‘Well, Connie, he was always nicely spoken and polite to me,’ sniffed Aunty Mable, taking another swig of tea.
The effect on me was the same as the effect on hundreds of thousands like me. I hid inside of myself. I became withdrawn and tried to pretend to desire girls. I drifted into a secret world of fear and insecurity.
Mable Clifton’s kind and generous tolerant words meant everything to me on that day 65 years ago.
The Miners Welfare, gleaming new and so proud, endured for decades of happy memories. Eventually, it was demolished and swept away to make room for new houses. All Stanley Common relatives I knew have now passed on.
It started with an old man who broke down in tears mourning the past; like him, I too feel like the only one who remembers those long-gone good people.
Narvel Annable
Printed In The Derby Telegraph and Derbyshire Times, February 9th 2024
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Heartwarming chat in town’s secret garden
Now in my 79th year, for good health, I follow a daily routine. Wholesome breakfast of fresh fruit is followed by a steep, brisk walk up to the very top of Belper.
Chesterfield Road meets Crich Lane giving on to magnificent westward views over our old mill town, and distant woodlands on the Chevin Hills beyond.
After an exhaustive climb, I’m grateful for the comfortable benches available in Belper’s Secret Garden maintained by volunteers. It was first opened in 1951, hence the formal name Festival Gardens – a charming mix of flowers, shrubs together with a crown of mature trees giving homes to varied wild life.
This little-known public park sitting on the roof of Belper is easy to miss. On most visits, I’m on my own. Occasionally, other visitors wander in, but seldom speak.
The recent bleak mid-winter cold snap favoured us with a brilliant blue sky making it possible to soak up a few precious minutes of warm sunshine. An old man approached. We exchanged a few pleasantries.
He was worried about managing the decline of old age. He was no longer able to maintain his front and back garden which had degenerated into a wilderness to the point where it appeared to be derelict and uninhabited. Ashamed and distressed, he feared losing the good opinion of his neighbours.
Trying to be optimistic, I talked about the benefits of rewilding and suggested he should be congratulated for his kindness to hedgehogs and birds who would thrive in his joyful jungle.
He feared the future, was getting forgetful and dreaded dementia.
His main anxiety was being forced out of his home into residential care enduring possible harassment or ill-treatment from residents and care staff who might be prejudiced against an old bachelor.
It was peaceful in the Secret Garden and he drifted into a brief revery staring into the middle distance – ending with –
‘Old men shall dream their dreams.’
This sounded like a quote. He told me it was from the Bible – Book of Joel.’
Eventually, he stood up –
‘I’ve enjoyed our chat. Thank you for being helpful. You’ve cheered me no end. Good bye.’
I made a similar response and watched him leave the Festival Gardens. I wish him well.
Narvel Annable
Now in my 79th year, for good health, I follow a daily routine. Wholesome breakfast of fresh fruit is followed by a steep, brisk walk up to the very top of Belper.
Chesterfield Road meets Crich Lane giving on to magnificent westward views over our old mill town, and distant woodlands on the Chevin Hills beyond.
After an exhaustive climb, I’m grateful for the comfortable benches available in Belper’s Secret Garden maintained by volunteers. It was first opened in 1951, hence the formal name Festival Gardens – a charming mix of flowers, shrubs together with a crown of mature trees giving homes to varied wild life.
This little-known public park sitting on the roof of Belper is easy to miss. On most visits, I’m on my own. Occasionally, other visitors wander in, but seldom speak.
The recent bleak mid-winter cold snap favoured us with a brilliant blue sky making it possible to soak up a few precious minutes of warm sunshine. An old man approached. We exchanged a few pleasantries.
He was worried about managing the decline of old age. He was no longer able to maintain his front and back garden which had degenerated into a wilderness to the point where it appeared to be derelict and uninhabited. Ashamed and distressed, he feared losing the good opinion of his neighbours.
Trying to be optimistic, I talked about the benefits of rewilding and suggested he should be congratulated for his kindness to hedgehogs and birds who would thrive in his joyful jungle.
He feared the future, was getting forgetful and dreaded dementia.
His main anxiety was being forced out of his home into residential care enduring possible harassment or ill-treatment from residents and care staff who might be prejudiced against an old bachelor.
It was peaceful in the Secret Garden and he drifted into a brief revery staring into the middle distance – ending with –
‘Old men shall dream their dreams.’
This sounded like a quote. He told me it was from the Bible – Book of Joel.’
Eventually, he stood up –
‘I’ve enjoyed our chat. Thank you for being helpful. You’ve cheered me no end. Good bye.’
I made a similar response and watched him leave the Festival Gardens. I wish him well.
Narvel Annable
Printed in the Derby Telegraph, December 11th 2023
Hello Readers,
Sue Miller is the sister of Barry and Derek Goostrey. They are revered school friends from when I attended the William Howitt Secondary Modern School in Heanor - a place held dear in my heart back in 1959.
Sue contacted me to ask if I could identify a boy from an old photograph which is printed in the Derby Telegraph – December 11th 2023.
Allan Morton has now posted several enhanced copies of Sue’s photograph together with her request to Facebook, X and my website.
Click on this link -
https://narvel-annable.weebly.com/latest
Seeing Sue’s photograph of her brothers Derek and Barry packed an emotional punch. We three were all born in 1945 within a few days of each other. 1959 was the happiest year of my life – largely due to the friendship of these boys who gave me the will to live after enduring the horrors of Mundy Street Boys School which destroyed my confidence from 1955 to 1958.
Narvel Annable
Sue Miller is the sister of Barry and Derek Goostrey. They are revered school friends from when I attended the William Howitt Secondary Modern School in Heanor - a place held dear in my heart back in 1959.
Sue contacted me to ask if I could identify a boy from an old photograph which is printed in the Derby Telegraph – December 11th 2023.
Allan Morton has now posted several enhanced copies of Sue’s photograph together with her request to Facebook, X and my website.
Click on this link -
https://narvel-annable.weebly.com/latest
Seeing Sue’s photograph of her brothers Derek and Barry packed an emotional punch. We three were all born in 1945 within a few days of each other. 1959 was the happiest year of my life – largely due to the friendship of these boys who gave me the will to live after enduring the horrors of Mundy Street Boys School which destroyed my confidence from 1955 to 1958.
Narvel Annable
Printed in the Derbyshire Times, November 30th 2023
Rainbow Spireites founder praises ‘fantastic’ response
As a gay man, I felt strong empathy with uncle and niece - Darren and Ellie Yates - who bravely created Chesterfield FC’s first LGBT+ supporter’s group. I wish them well.
Unfortunately, my aversion to football has deep roots.
A macho mentality takes me back to grim days in the 1950s when my father was ashamed and loathed the son who was not a ‘proper son’ because I hated the Beautiful Game and could not defend myself with bare knuckles in the playground.
Sound bites spat out in pit talk are forever seared into my psyche -
‘What sort ‘o lad ‘ave we got! Aye [he] can’t kick a ball.’
Football, weaponised against me by others, imprinted a mindset: I am homosexual and hate soccer, therefore, all gay boys will despise the so-called beautiful game.
Many decades on, that statement has to be challenged and re-evaluated. After years of activism, I have been astonished meeting LGBTs who actually like football!
Since 2006, my husband Terry and I have displayed on our fridge door a post card of seven sexy Ball Bois - gay friendly smiling members of their Nottingham football club.
Their ethos was identical to the words of Darren and Ellie Yates - to provide a welcoming environment for anybody to play at any level without fear of prejudice, abuse or ridicule.
In my fearful repressed years at Mundy Street Boys School 1957 in Heanor, I would have considered a homosexual footballer to be an impossibility.
Six decades on we now have a partnership between the charitable arm of Derby County FC and Derbyshire LGBT+.
The original Nottingham Ball Bois FC have changed their name to NOTTINGHAM LIONS FC.
In October 2017, some fans learnt the hard way that vile chants at a football match are wrong.
I punched the air; cheered loud and long when a Leicester City football fan was arrested for shouting homophobic abuse at Brighton supporters
At Leicester Magistrates court, he pleaded guilty and was fined £300, increased by £30 due the homophobic nature of the offence classed as a hate crime. He was ordered to pay costs of £85.
I call that progress.
Narvel Annable
As a gay man, I felt strong empathy with uncle and niece - Darren and Ellie Yates - who bravely created Chesterfield FC’s first LGBT+ supporter’s group. I wish them well.
Unfortunately, my aversion to football has deep roots.
A macho mentality takes me back to grim days in the 1950s when my father was ashamed and loathed the son who was not a ‘proper son’ because I hated the Beautiful Game and could not defend myself with bare knuckles in the playground.
Sound bites spat out in pit talk are forever seared into my psyche -
‘What sort ‘o lad ‘ave we got! Aye [he] can’t kick a ball.’
Football, weaponised against me by others, imprinted a mindset: I am homosexual and hate soccer, therefore, all gay boys will despise the so-called beautiful game.
Many decades on, that statement has to be challenged and re-evaluated. After years of activism, I have been astonished meeting LGBTs who actually like football!
Since 2006, my husband Terry and I have displayed on our fridge door a post card of seven sexy Ball Bois - gay friendly smiling members of their Nottingham football club.
Their ethos was identical to the words of Darren and Ellie Yates - to provide a welcoming environment for anybody to play at any level without fear of prejudice, abuse or ridicule.
In my fearful repressed years at Mundy Street Boys School 1957 in Heanor, I would have considered a homosexual footballer to be an impossibility.
Six decades on we now have a partnership between the charitable arm of Derby County FC and Derbyshire LGBT+.
The original Nottingham Ball Bois FC have changed their name to NOTTINGHAM LIONS FC.
In October 2017, some fans learnt the hard way that vile chants at a football match are wrong.
I punched the air; cheered loud and long when a Leicester City football fan was arrested for shouting homophobic abuse at Brighton supporters
At Leicester Magistrates court, he pleaded guilty and was fined £300, increased by £30 due the homophobic nature of the offence classed as a hate crime. He was ordered to pay costs of £85.
I call that progress.
Narvel Annable
Letter to the Derby Telegraph, November 24th 2023
Printed in the Derby Telegraph – November 24th 2023
Tackling homophobia in football is progress
My aversion to football has deep roots.
A macho mentality takes me back to grim days in the 1950s when my father was ashamed and loathed the son who was not a ‘proper son’ because I hated the Beautiful Game and could not defend myself with bare knuckles in the playground.
Sound bites spat out in pit talk are forever seared into my psyche -
‘What sort ‘o lad ‘ave we got! Aye [he] can’t kick a ball.’
Football, weaponised against me by others, imprinted a mindset: I am homosexual and hate soccer, therefore, all gay boys will despise the so-called beautiful game.
Many decades on, that statement has to be challenged and re-evaluated. After years of activism, I have been astonished meeting LGBTs who actually like football!
Since 2006, my husband Terry and I have displayed on our fridge door a post card of seven sexy Ball Bois - gay friendly smiling members of their Nottingham football club.
Their ethos was to provide a welcoming environment for anybody to play at any level without fear of prejudice, abuse or ridicule.
In my fearful repressed years at Mundy Street Boys School 1957 in Heanor, I would have considered a homosexual footballer to be an impossibility.
Six decades on we now have a partnership between the charitable arm of Derby County FC and Derbyshire LGBT+.
The original Nottingham Ball Bois FC have changed their name to NOTTINGHAM LIONS FC.
In October 2017, some fans learnt the hard way that vile chants at a football match are wrong.
I punched the air; cheered loud and long when a Leicester City football fan was arrested for shouting homophobic abuse at Brighton supporters.
At Leicester Magistrates court, he pleaded guilty and was fined £300, increased by £30 due the homophobic nature of the offence classed as a hate crime. He was ordered to pay costs of £85.
I call that progress.
Narvel Annable
Tackling homophobia in football is progress
My aversion to football has deep roots.
A macho mentality takes me back to grim days in the 1950s when my father was ashamed and loathed the son who was not a ‘proper son’ because I hated the Beautiful Game and could not defend myself with bare knuckles in the playground.
Sound bites spat out in pit talk are forever seared into my psyche -
‘What sort ‘o lad ‘ave we got! Aye [he] can’t kick a ball.’
Football, weaponised against me by others, imprinted a mindset: I am homosexual and hate soccer, therefore, all gay boys will despise the so-called beautiful game.
Many decades on, that statement has to be challenged and re-evaluated. After years of activism, I have been astonished meeting LGBTs who actually like football!
Since 2006, my husband Terry and I have displayed on our fridge door a post card of seven sexy Ball Bois - gay friendly smiling members of their Nottingham football club.
Their ethos was to provide a welcoming environment for anybody to play at any level without fear of prejudice, abuse or ridicule.
In my fearful repressed years at Mundy Street Boys School 1957 in Heanor, I would have considered a homosexual footballer to be an impossibility.
Six decades on we now have a partnership between the charitable arm of Derby County FC and Derbyshire LGBT+.
The original Nottingham Ball Bois FC have changed their name to NOTTINGHAM LIONS FC.
In October 2017, some fans learnt the hard way that vile chants at a football match are wrong.
I punched the air; cheered loud and long when a Leicester City football fan was arrested for shouting homophobic abuse at Brighton supporters.
At Leicester Magistrates court, he pleaded guilty and was fined £300, increased by £30 due the homophobic nature of the offence classed as a hate crime. He was ordered to pay costs of £85.
I call that progress.
Narvel Annable
Letter to Worksop Guardian
Letter to the Worksop Guardian, August 15th 2023.
Dear Editor,
I was horrified to hear the suffering of Simon Smalley -victim praises scheme to make streets safer – Worksop Guardian 11/8 23.
He and I have a lot in common. Homophobia blighted my years as a history master at the Valley Comprehensive School. Some pupils forced me into a life hiding inside a dark well locked closet. From 1978 to 1995, I dreaded exposure, embarrassment and humiliation inflicted by yobbish elements.
Excruciating incidents caused emotional damage. I learned to exist in isolation until a breakdown forced me to seek professional counselling which led to an escape from teaching.
A ‘Mr Chips’ mindset was a cloak to conceal the continuing anxiety of leading a double life. Inside, I was a frightened homosexual trying to look like a confident heterosexual on the outside. It had to look like a teacher easily fitting in with pupils and staff.
From time to time there were alarming incidents. Our history staffroom, predominately macho male, was a hotbed of strong language and raucous crude humour.
The final two years saw gay hate terminating a teaching career. Although my private life continued to remain very private, some pupils began to speculate on Mr Annable’s sexuality. They turned me into an object of fun inflicting humiliating hurtful episodes.
A steady torturous drip destroyed my credibility and confidence. At the edge of a breakdown, a shell of my former self, there came a point when my position was untenable. I was unable to discharge professional duties.
These appalling disrespectful attacks were never taken seriously by senior management.
On Thursday, April 6th1995, a colleague commented on continuing melancholy, my appearance and exhaustion. She earnestly advised ‘a few days off’. I walked out of that classroom and never returned.
My novel Double Lifereceived inspiration from 18 years at the Valley School.
Narvel Annable
Pride In Belper, August 5th 2023
Printed in the Derby Telegraph, August 8th 2023
The weather forecast leading up to August 5th 2023 was grim indeed. Pride in Belper was threatened with a washout! A cold blanket covering of persistent rain without respite seemed inevitable.
However, the actual experience turned out to be not so bad. In spite of cool constant drizzle, thousands cheerfully gathered to view and join the strut celebrating gay pride in our mill town.
Together with many others, Belper Friends marched proudly behind our banner from the Market Place down and around the streets.
Profuse thanks to the ebullient, effervescent, PC Fred Bray, Father of Belper Friends. Conscientiously, he facilitated this successful event being so patient with Terry Durand and myself in our anxiety, ever fiddling with rucksacks and endless layers of waterproofing.
Also, gratitude to Iain Greenwood and Chris Buck for helping to man and manoeuvre the banner.
As usual, full appreciation to Allan Morton who makes all my posts possible ensuring high quality every time.
Yet again, Sarah Barley-McMullen - Mother of Pride in Belper - made the event happen. She has done so much for Belper. She changed it forever putting the Pride in Belper – this time in the teeth of cold wet weather.
Stonewall Role Model of the Year, 2019, Sarah’s sterling LGBT work at the University of Derby is well known and greatly appreciated. With her partner Helen and splendid Pride Team, they have made this pride another resounding success.
Narvel Annable
The weather forecast leading up to August 5th 2023 was grim indeed. Pride in Belper was threatened with a washout! A cold blanket covering of persistent rain without respite seemed inevitable.
However, the actual experience turned out to be not so bad. In spite of cool constant drizzle, thousands cheerfully gathered to view and join the strut celebrating gay pride in our mill town.
Together with many others, Belper Friends marched proudly behind our banner from the Market Place down and around the streets.
Profuse thanks to the ebullient, effervescent, PC Fred Bray, Father of Belper Friends. Conscientiously, he facilitated this successful event being so patient with Terry Durand and myself in our anxiety, ever fiddling with rucksacks and endless layers of waterproofing.
Also, gratitude to Iain Greenwood and Chris Buck for helping to man and manoeuvre the banner.
As usual, full appreciation to Allan Morton who makes all my posts possible ensuring high quality every time.
Yet again, Sarah Barley-McMullen - Mother of Pride in Belper - made the event happen. She has done so much for Belper. She changed it forever putting the Pride in Belper – this time in the teeth of cold wet weather.
Stonewall Role Model of the Year, 2019, Sarah’s sterling LGBT work at the University of Derby is well known and greatly appreciated. With her partner Helen and splendid Pride Team, they have made this pride another resounding success.
Narvel Annable
Standing room only for Community Play
Printed in the Derby Telegraph, April 6th 2023
Standing room only for Community Play
I thoroughly enjoyed the performance of Captain Blood’s Singular Circus on Belper Coppice, April 1st.
The professional well-coordinated team work of a large cast was impressive. It came across as a smooth evolution. No mistakes.
Especially commendable were the eye-catching characters and animals. King of the Fairies, Oberon [Andy Parry] was an outstanding giant. The children around me were thrilled at his appearance. The fierce tiger and massive white elephant were also received with excitement.
The frequently appearing bespectacled villain was well conceived. She was the complaining, criticising ‘time and motion’ busybody.
All this was encapsulated in an imaginatively presented history of Belper with familiar sound bites through the ages.
What could have easily fell apart in a disastrous shambles were all held together in a superior production. Writer and Executive Producer Kevin Fegan is a man of great experience and past successes. We are fortunate this play was in safe hands.
Also, a clever framework for an imaginative history of Belper from stone age to the present day. Horrors of child labour with appalling bloody accidents were realistically portrayed by cast members using just their bodies. They became machines! Full marks to director, Andy Barrow.
Andy also captured the terror of oppression and riots when factory workers were brutally punished for their transgressions. The beheading of Jeremiah Brandreth, shockingly real, especially when his grisly severed head was brandished before our eyes. That head looked so much like Daron Carey; I was relieved to see him reappear later as James Bond.
Although I consider myself reasonably informed on the history of Belper, this play exposed several gaps in my knowledge of our mill town. It came as a surprise to find that Jedediah Strutt [well played by Helen Jackson] actually wrote his own obituary!
This community play was refreshingly progressive. A woman playing a man is an enlightened example of forward thinking in terms of diversity.
The excited children around me gave a certain atmosphere of pantomime. It was a play for all ages who came to this performance in their hundreds. When all the seats were full, it was standing room only for several more hundreds at the back.
This was a huge success for Kevin and his excellent team who made it all possible.
Narvel Annable
Standing room only for Community Play
I thoroughly enjoyed the performance of Captain Blood’s Singular Circus on Belper Coppice, April 1st.
The professional well-coordinated team work of a large cast was impressive. It came across as a smooth evolution. No mistakes.
Especially commendable were the eye-catching characters and animals. King of the Fairies, Oberon [Andy Parry] was an outstanding giant. The children around me were thrilled at his appearance. The fierce tiger and massive white elephant were also received with excitement.
The frequently appearing bespectacled villain was well conceived. She was the complaining, criticising ‘time and motion’ busybody.
All this was encapsulated in an imaginatively presented history of Belper with familiar sound bites through the ages.
What could have easily fell apart in a disastrous shambles were all held together in a superior production. Writer and Executive Producer Kevin Fegan is a man of great experience and past successes. We are fortunate this play was in safe hands.
Also, a clever framework for an imaginative history of Belper from stone age to the present day. Horrors of child labour with appalling bloody accidents were realistically portrayed by cast members using just their bodies. They became machines! Full marks to director, Andy Barrow.
Andy also captured the terror of oppression and riots when factory workers were brutally punished for their transgressions. The beheading of Jeremiah Brandreth, shockingly real, especially when his grisly severed head was brandished before our eyes. That head looked so much like Daron Carey; I was relieved to see him reappear later as James Bond.
Although I consider myself reasonably informed on the history of Belper, this play exposed several gaps in my knowledge of our mill town. It came as a surprise to find that Jedediah Strutt [well played by Helen Jackson] actually wrote his own obituary!
This community play was refreshingly progressive. A woman playing a man is an enlightened example of forward thinking in terms of diversity.
The excited children around me gave a certain atmosphere of pantomime. It was a play for all ages who came to this performance in their hundreds. When all the seats were full, it was standing room only for several more hundreds at the back.
This was a huge success for Kevin and his excellent team who made it all possible.
Narvel Annable
Pope Benedict XVI Letter
On January 7th 2023 – sent to -
Derby Telegraph – Nottingham Post – The Guardian – Worksop Guardian and the Derbyshire Times
Dear Editor,
I was affronted by a spectacle of grief heaped upon a man who in 1986 wrote that homosexual orientation is an ‘objective disorder’ towards an ‘intrinsic moral evil’.
This was the recent funeral of Pope Benedict XVI 1927 – 2022, who died on December 31st.
Back in December 2008, this bigoted old man, a former member of the Hitler Youth, gave the global gay community a Christmas present which amounted to a kick in the teeth!
His end-of-year inflammatory speech to senior Vatican staff ruined my Christmas.
Prejudice and ill-informed words reveal institutional homophobia which still eats away at the credibility of the Roman Catholic Church.
Cruel condemnation of same sex attraction is nothing short of an incitement to hatred giving gay bashers licence to inflict violent acts upon gay people.
And this from a cleric who claimed to speak for the Prince of Peace – a cleric who sounded more like the Ayatollah Khomeini.
Peter Tatchell made a strong observation about the pre-Christmas Papal outburst –
‘The suggestion that gay people are a threat to human survival is absurd and dangerous. It is poisonous propaganda that will give comfort and succour to queer bashers everywhere. The opposition of the Pope to human rights violations based on sexual orientation is truly sickening, depraved and shameless.’
Peter Tatchell is my hero. I predict that in a thousand years’ time his name will be better remembered and better revered than the name of Benedict XVI.
To write off all gay love makes about as much sense as writing off all heterosexual love.
Gay men and women have for millenniums filled the ranks of the church’s holy orders, schools and administration; they celebrated the Catholic vision in music, paintings and writing. Church rules might forbid same-sex unions, yet Christ’s first and foremost commandment was to love one another.
It has always been a mystery to me how educated, intelligent people can reconcile the manifest reality of an institution dominated by homosexuals with the screaming homophobia of its top management!
Narvel Annable.
https://narvel-annable.weebly.com
https://linktr.ee/narvelannable
Derby Telegraph – Nottingham Post – The Guardian – Worksop Guardian and the Derbyshire Times
Dear Editor,
I was affronted by a spectacle of grief heaped upon a man who in 1986 wrote that homosexual orientation is an ‘objective disorder’ towards an ‘intrinsic moral evil’.
This was the recent funeral of Pope Benedict XVI 1927 – 2022, who died on December 31st.
Back in December 2008, this bigoted old man, a former member of the Hitler Youth, gave the global gay community a Christmas present which amounted to a kick in the teeth!
His end-of-year inflammatory speech to senior Vatican staff ruined my Christmas.
Prejudice and ill-informed words reveal institutional homophobia which still eats away at the credibility of the Roman Catholic Church.
Cruel condemnation of same sex attraction is nothing short of an incitement to hatred giving gay bashers licence to inflict violent acts upon gay people.
And this from a cleric who claimed to speak for the Prince of Peace – a cleric who sounded more like the Ayatollah Khomeini.
Peter Tatchell made a strong observation about the pre-Christmas Papal outburst –
‘The suggestion that gay people are a threat to human survival is absurd and dangerous. It is poisonous propaganda that will give comfort and succour to queer bashers everywhere. The opposition of the Pope to human rights violations based on sexual orientation is truly sickening, depraved and shameless.’
Peter Tatchell is my hero. I predict that in a thousand years’ time his name will be better remembered and better revered than the name of Benedict XVI.
To write off all gay love makes about as much sense as writing off all heterosexual love.
Gay men and women have for millenniums filled the ranks of the church’s holy orders, schools and administration; they celebrated the Catholic vision in music, paintings and writing. Church rules might forbid same-sex unions, yet Christ’s first and foremost commandment was to love one another.
It has always been a mystery to me how educated, intelligent people can reconcile the manifest reality of an institution dominated by homosexuals with the screaming homophobia of its top management!
Narvel Annable.
https://narvel-annable.weebly.com
https://linktr.ee/narvelannable
Letter to the Nottingham POst - Middle Street Resource Centre
Printed in the Nottingham Post – October 15th 2022
On October 3rd at MIDDLE STREET RESOURCE CENTRE Nottingham, my husband Terry and I were privileged to be invited to an important dual birthday party. It was the 50th birthday for my former pupil Tim Blades. The event also celebrated 50 years of Middle Street mental health support to the community.
The event was well attended by some people I already knew and others who were a pleasure to meet. I was overjoyed to spot an LGBT celebrity! The good name of Richard McCance is well known in the gay community and it was an honour to meet up with him again.
In the 1980s, I was a teaching Tim at the Valley Comprehensive School in Worksop, quietly doing my job, keeping my head down, keeping my private life very private and contributing nothing to the gay cause. Like many other homosexual teachers, I was isolated. I was terrified of being exposed as ‘a queer’. I was frightened of being humiliated by ignorant pupils and colleagues in a deeply conservative homophobic colliery community.
In 1983 Richard McCance had just been elected to Nottingham City Council as an out and proud gay man giving an enormous boost to the fledgling Campaign for Homosexual Equality. He went on to publish gay free sheets which must have given succour and hope to untold numbers in the community of same sex attraction.
Before leaving the centre, we had a chance to look around this pleasant modern building set in well-tended grounds. Bright autumnal sunshine smiled on Tim’s special day illuminating a beautiful garden.
For more information about mental health support at Middle Street, please contact the centre on – 0115 9252516.
Narvel Annable
https://linktr.ee/narvelannable
On October 3rd at MIDDLE STREET RESOURCE CENTRE Nottingham, my husband Terry and I were privileged to be invited to an important dual birthday party. It was the 50th birthday for my former pupil Tim Blades. The event also celebrated 50 years of Middle Street mental health support to the community.
The event was well attended by some people I already knew and others who were a pleasure to meet. I was overjoyed to spot an LGBT celebrity! The good name of Richard McCance is well known in the gay community and it was an honour to meet up with him again.
In the 1980s, I was a teaching Tim at the Valley Comprehensive School in Worksop, quietly doing my job, keeping my head down, keeping my private life very private and contributing nothing to the gay cause. Like many other homosexual teachers, I was isolated. I was terrified of being exposed as ‘a queer’. I was frightened of being humiliated by ignorant pupils and colleagues in a deeply conservative homophobic colliery community.
In 1983 Richard McCance had just been elected to Nottingham City Council as an out and proud gay man giving an enormous boost to the fledgling Campaign for Homosexual Equality. He went on to publish gay free sheets which must have given succour and hope to untold numbers in the community of same sex attraction.
Before leaving the centre, we had a chance to look around this pleasant modern building set in well-tended grounds. Bright autumnal sunshine smiled on Tim’s special day illuminating a beautiful garden.
For more information about mental health support at Middle Street, please contact the centre on – 0115 9252516.
Narvel Annable
https://linktr.ee/narvelannable
Letter to the derby telegraph - Commonwealth Conference
June 24th, 2022
Dear Editor,
In 2011, the Derby Telegraph printed my letter criticising the homophobic Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting. This year the conference is taking place in Kigali, Rwanda on the 24th and 25th of June.
For support, I quoted the Foreign Editor of The Western Australian Greg Sheridan. He said -
‘The Commonwealth is a comic-book phantom of international organisations. It is the ghost that walks.’
His words amounted to a ferocious attack on a loose association of 54 countries.
Eleven years on, the Secretary General, Baroness Scotland has shown no leadership. She has failed to speak out publicly against the intensified persecution of LGBTs in Ghana, Cameroon and Uganda.
In matters of sexual orientation: it is appalling that 35 member states continue to treat same-sex relations as a serious criminal offence. Every day gay people suffer vilification and punishment inflicted by cruel laws dating from colonial days.
Homosexuals are routinely targeted with threats, violence and endure sentences of up to ten years in brutal prisons. In the north of Nigeria there is still a death sentence!
I’m 76. If I’m still alive, will it be necessary to send you another letter about this disgraceful ‘ghost that walks’ in 2033?
Narvel Annable
Dear Editor,
In 2011, the Derby Telegraph printed my letter criticising the homophobic Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting. This year the conference is taking place in Kigali, Rwanda on the 24th and 25th of June.
For support, I quoted the Foreign Editor of The Western Australian Greg Sheridan. He said -
‘The Commonwealth is a comic-book phantom of international organisations. It is the ghost that walks.’
His words amounted to a ferocious attack on a loose association of 54 countries.
Eleven years on, the Secretary General, Baroness Scotland has shown no leadership. She has failed to speak out publicly against the intensified persecution of LGBTs in Ghana, Cameroon and Uganda.
In matters of sexual orientation: it is appalling that 35 member states continue to treat same-sex relations as a serious criminal offence. Every day gay people suffer vilification and punishment inflicted by cruel laws dating from colonial days.
Homosexuals are routinely targeted with threats, violence and endure sentences of up to ten years in brutal prisons. In the north of Nigeria there is still a death sentence!
I’m 76. If I’m still alive, will it be necessary to send you another letter about this disgraceful ‘ghost that walks’ in 2033?
Narvel Annable
The queen
Hello Readers,
Peter Tatchell wrote an article about The Queen in The Guardian on May 15th. 2022.
The following is my response emailed today May 20th 2022.
[email protected]
Dear Editor,
During his first visit to Derby in 2010 at the University, Peter Tatchell gave an inspiring talk about the Monarchy in front of an interested and enthusiastic audience. I was honoured to give a speech of welcome and introduction to this great activist.
Peter’s address was similar to The Guardian article of May 15th. It caused me to cool to the Queen.
In Derby, Peter said –
‘The Queen is not gay friendly. The words lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender have never publicly passed her lips since she ascended the throne in 1952.’
These words resonated and took me back to 1961 when, as a 16-year-old, I fell into conversation with a man I’ll call Ralph. He claimed friendship with Sir Anthony Blunt – Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures. Art historian Blunt, safely and securely inside Buckingham Palace, was a royal courtier and a Soviet spy.
Horrified by this revelation, I remonstrated with Ralph.
‘How can you be friends with a man, a spy sending regular information to communists who would do us harm!’
Ralph explained -
‘Narvel, you and I are queer. We are forced to lead double lives. Before you condemn Anthony, try to understand why he feels little loyalty to King and Country. To be homosexual and to be discovered indulging in any homosexual act would have meant instant dismissal and disgrace. We once discussed his conduct and he said -
“How loyal to my King and Country could I really be when the draconian laws of my country will utterly destroy me if my sexuality ever comes to light? It’s not just a prison sentence; other savage inmates will probably beat me to a pulp on a regular basis until I’m killed - or I kill myself. If I’m exposed, denounced as a spy and convicted of treachery, my punishment will be bad – but less severe.”
Ralph was a rich man with a private cinema. I was shocked to see and hear about the entrenched pro German attitudes of the Royal Family. He showed me newsreel footage of Hitler welcoming the Duke of Windsor as an honoured guest accompanied by crowds of ecstatic cheering Nazis and senior Nazis all giving HRH [and his wife Wallis] a Nazi salute.
The Duke of Windsor has been used as a scapegoat for the policy of appeasement. Prime Minister - Neville Chamberlain desperately tried to avoid war in 1938 /39. ‘Peace in our time’. Right up to 1940, senior members of the Royal Family – George VI and the Duke of Kent – tried to persuade Churchill to arrange an accommodation with Hitler.
Attempts at appeasement were well documented in private letters exchanged between senior British royals and senior German aristocrats in the Nazi regime. Towards the end of the war in 1944 and 1945, Blunt warned George VI and made him aware of this stash of incriminating correspondence which could do incalculable damage the British Monarchy.
Blunt knew where these documents where hidden and [with German help / relatives of the Windsor’s] offered to return them to the King. Having been a secret agent for some years, fully aware of the value of such useful protective armour, Blunt became ‘the man who knew too much.’ In this he was able to assist Donald Maclean and Guy Burgess to flee to Moscow in the 1950s.
Between 1951 and 1954, the suave and sophisticated ‘spy in the Palace’ was interviewed by MI-5 and MI-6 eleven times – but his position as custodian of all the House of Windsor’s Art Treasures made him cast iron safe.
Narvel Annable
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash https://unsplash.com/@anniespratt
jake daniels letter
May 19th, 2022
Hello Readers,
See below for Narvel's letter to both the Derby Telegraph and Nottingham Post today:
Dear Editor,
The LGBT community were thrilled to hear about Jake Daniels the 17-year-old Striker for Blackpool Football Club who came out as gay this week. He is the first UK professional male footballer to openly acknowledge his homosexuality in 30 years.
Prince William said this will “help break down barriers” in society, and added “football should be a game for everyone”.
The last UK professional male footballer to be so brave was Justin Fashanu. He was known by his early clubs to be gay, but not publicly known until later in his career.
Having previously played for Norwich City FC between 1978 and 1981 (with loan spells at Adelaide City in South Australia), Justin joined Nottingham Forest FC in 1981, becoming Britain’s first £1 million black footballer.
At Nottingham Forest, Justin came up against the very outspoken and opinionated manager, Brian Clough who was disturbed by rumours of Justin’s visits to gay pubs and clubs. His confidence and ability began to suffer after Clough discovered his homosexuality; he even barred him from training with the side.
In his autobiography, Clough recounted a dressing down he inflicted on Justin:
“Where do you go if you want a loaf of bread?' I asked him. 'A baker's, I suppose.' 'Where do you go if you want a leg of lamb?' 'A butcher.' 'So why do you keep going to that bloody poofs' club?"
It offends me each time I see the homophobic name of the bigoted Clough on the A52. Important roads should be named after people we can look up to and respect.
Justin publicly came out in 1990 to the tabloid press. It wasn’t until May 16th 2022, that another prominent player in professional English football came out - Jake Daniels.
Although Justin claimed he was generally well accepted by his fellow players, he said they would often joke maliciously about his sexual orientation. He was also the target of constant crowd abuse at matches.
After moving to the United States in March 1998, Justin was questioned by police when a 17-year-old boy accused him of sexual assault after a night of drinking. A warrant for his arrest was issued in Howard County, Maryland. Homosexual acts were illegal at the time.
Fearing he would not get a fair trial, Justin fled to England.
On May 2nd 1998, aged only 37, Justin Fashanu committed suicide. His suicide note stated that sex with the 17-year-old was consensual.
We now live in different times of greater understanding and tolerance of the LGBT community. The path of Jake Daniels will be nothing like that of Justin Fashanu. This tragic story has been so powerful, it’s taken 24 years since his death for anyone else to stop living a lie.
Thanks to Jake, other footballers may now come out as gay. Surely there will be others, but perhaps they will wait a while, with a feeling of trepidation, to see how Jake is received first…
Narvel Annable
https://linktr.ee/narvelannable
Letter to Rachel Brown on January 1st 2012
Rachel Brown is the daughter of my nephew David Brown. Rachel and her partner Matt came to Belper for a visit in the summer of 2011. In a recent clear out, I came across a copy of this letter.
I’m assuming that a certain family member probably poisoned Rachel’s attitude to me with deep rooted, longstanding, Narvel hating, distortions and disinformation. Ten years on, reading this, I was surprised at my own tolerance and diplomacy in answering such a hostile email from Rachel.
In another ten years, there’s a reasonable chance I’ll be dead. Accordingly, I’ve decided that this reply to Rachel’s 2011 attack on me should now be placed in the public domain. [For clarity, I’ve made 2022 comments in italics]
Dear Rachel,
First letter of 2012! Yesterday, I received a beautiful card from David and Linda [her parents] and will respond with what I call a ‘proper letter’ by post. In an enclosure, he gave family news which, as always, is informative and interesting.
I was delighted to hear about your doctoral programme and marriage next August. Matt’s endeavours in law school caught my attention. Since rubbing shoulders with so many prosperous judges and barristers in writing A Judge Too Far, I often wonder if it was such a wise move to major in history rather than law. Matt has made a good choice. Best wishes to you both for total success.
Regarding the observations in your email; on a number of issues, you are spot on. It would be silly to pretend that my campaigning doesn’t come across as angry. In some cases, yes, even bitter. However, it is a battle with a clear enemy – homophobia - not myself as you suggest.
Fighting against bigotry and injustice is not an attempt to change the past; it is an attempt to influence the future for all those gay people who have yet to be born.
And this activism is successful. We have seen great progress and that makes me happy – not miserable as you suggested.
Regarding your young gay friends – the ‘fun, happy people who are themselves’ – would they be enjoying such freedom if it were not for the efforts of older people like me who have been prepared to go public, stand up in a hostile environment and be counted?
Regarding your question – ‘have you travelled anywhere lately, read any good books, etc?’ – visit my website above. You’ll see letters which demonstrate a wide range of reading. You’ll see references to my travels around the UK giving talks to many different audiences including two colleges.
To update the last line, the human rights campaigner, Peter Tatchell, has made the following statement in my new 2022 book 16 in 61 - Adventures of a Gay Teenager in 1961.
Narvel constantly campaigns: over many decades, letters to the press, plus TV and radio interviews, have inspired the lives of gay people in deepest darkest coal encrusted Derbyshire – and beyond.
Narvel has given talks to the Derbyshire Police Force as a part of their in-service training days on Hate Crime. He does not shy from narrating a harrowing account of his arrest and imprisonment by plainclothes police in the strife-torn 1960s Detroit riots on the US.
You are quite wrong to use the word slander regarding Cynthia [my late sister who died in April 2004] During the last nine years of her life, we enjoyed a fragile truce born of an affection rooted in a time when [together with several other women] she was, to this little boy, a substitute mother.
But like my mother, father, and the heterosexual population at large – Cynthia was a product of the ignorance and prejudice which has inflicted deep wounds on untold millions who share same-sex attraction.
I’m disappointed in the critical tone of your email of December 29th 2011. Your comments suggest a profound misunderstanding of the aims and objectives of my work – which I take very seriously.
Sorry my letters upset you. There is, as we both know, a simple solution.
[The solution alluded to is a complete break in communication – which is exactly what happened. Today is October11th 2022. Rachel never responded to my letter dated January 1st 2012]
It is easy to do nothing, more difficult to do something. And my New Year’s resolution is to continue to do something, push on that door, a door which has been opened by better, braver fighters than me.
That said, I’m grateful to youthful, enlightened gay-friendly people like you and Matt who, with your certain success, will make the world a better place for us all.
More in sorrow than in anger,
Narvel
I’m assuming that a certain family member probably poisoned Rachel’s attitude to me with deep rooted, longstanding, Narvel hating, distortions and disinformation. Ten years on, reading this, I was surprised at my own tolerance and diplomacy in answering such a hostile email from Rachel.
In another ten years, there’s a reasonable chance I’ll be dead. Accordingly, I’ve decided that this reply to Rachel’s 2011 attack on me should now be placed in the public domain. [For clarity, I’ve made 2022 comments in italics]
Dear Rachel,
First letter of 2012! Yesterday, I received a beautiful card from David and Linda [her parents] and will respond with what I call a ‘proper letter’ by post. In an enclosure, he gave family news which, as always, is informative and interesting.
I was delighted to hear about your doctoral programme and marriage next August. Matt’s endeavours in law school caught my attention. Since rubbing shoulders with so many prosperous judges and barristers in writing A Judge Too Far, I often wonder if it was such a wise move to major in history rather than law. Matt has made a good choice. Best wishes to you both for total success.
Regarding the observations in your email; on a number of issues, you are spot on. It would be silly to pretend that my campaigning doesn’t come across as angry. In some cases, yes, even bitter. However, it is a battle with a clear enemy – homophobia - not myself as you suggest.
Fighting against bigotry and injustice is not an attempt to change the past; it is an attempt to influence the future for all those gay people who have yet to be born.
And this activism is successful. We have seen great progress and that makes me happy – not miserable as you suggested.
Regarding your young gay friends – the ‘fun, happy people who are themselves’ – would they be enjoying such freedom if it were not for the efforts of older people like me who have been prepared to go public, stand up in a hostile environment and be counted?
Regarding your question – ‘have you travelled anywhere lately, read any good books, etc?’ – visit my website above. You’ll see letters which demonstrate a wide range of reading. You’ll see references to my travels around the UK giving talks to many different audiences including two colleges.
To update the last line, the human rights campaigner, Peter Tatchell, has made the following statement in my new 2022 book 16 in 61 - Adventures of a Gay Teenager in 1961.
Narvel constantly campaigns: over many decades, letters to the press, plus TV and radio interviews, have inspired the lives of gay people in deepest darkest coal encrusted Derbyshire – and beyond.
Narvel has given talks to the Derbyshire Police Force as a part of their in-service training days on Hate Crime. He does not shy from narrating a harrowing account of his arrest and imprisonment by plainclothes police in the strife-torn 1960s Detroit riots on the US.
You are quite wrong to use the word slander regarding Cynthia [my late sister who died in April 2004] During the last nine years of her life, we enjoyed a fragile truce born of an affection rooted in a time when [together with several other women] she was, to this little boy, a substitute mother.
But like my mother, father, and the heterosexual population at large – Cynthia was a product of the ignorance and prejudice which has inflicted deep wounds on untold millions who share same-sex attraction.
I’m disappointed in the critical tone of your email of December 29th 2011. Your comments suggest a profound misunderstanding of the aims and objectives of my work – which I take very seriously.
Sorry my letters upset you. There is, as we both know, a simple solution.
[The solution alluded to is a complete break in communication – which is exactly what happened. Today is October11th 2022. Rachel never responded to my letter dated January 1st 2012]
It is easy to do nothing, more difficult to do something. And my New Year’s resolution is to continue to do something, push on that door, a door which has been opened by better, braver fighters than me.
That said, I’m grateful to youthful, enlightened gay-friendly people like you and Matt who, with your certain success, will make the world a better place for us all.
More in sorrow than in anger,
Narvel
25 Years of Worksop Out on Wednesday [WOW]
Letter to the Worksop Guardian, February 26th 2022
Dear Editor,
Claire Bradley of www.centreplace.org.uk invited PC Fred Bray, Terry Durand and Narvel Annable to join a splendid celebration on February 24th at the Ceres Suite, Queens Building on Potter Street in Worksop.
Fred Bray, a Hate Crime Officer is very keen to support the LGBT cause. He attends all Belper Friends meetings and has been a tower of strength for our group.
Claire and Helen Azar launched a group called Worksop Out on Wednesday [WOW] which has been going strong.
https://www.lgbtplusnotts.org.uk/
The management and volunteers have been supporting young LGBT people for 25 years. This is evidence of good organisation, dedication and hard work from an excellent team who provide activities and counselling for young people who are coming to terms with their sexuality. I’ve been grateful for several guest speaker appearances over the years and thank the Worksop Guardian for printing features in support of WOW – some of which were on display at the event.
Clair and her team laid on a bountiful spread of sandwiches and delicious cake enjoyed by more than fifty jolly people in the magnificent Ceres Suite.
Apart from enjoying the food, I have a personal interest in Clair’s work. From 1978 to 1995, I was a history master at the Valley Comprehensive School in Worksop. I taught as I was taught in the 1950s - too strict, too formal and reluctant to embrace progressive trends in state education which arrived in the 1980s.
This ‘Mr Chips’ mindset was a cloak to conceal the continuing anxiety of leading a double life. Inside, I was a frightened homosexual trying to look like a confident heterosexual on the outside. It had to look like a teacher easily fitting in with pupils and staff.
For 17 years, I succeeded in dodging disapproval and maintained a mask of po-faced respectability. Like most isolated, closeted gay men, I spoke little of myself and was constantly on guard. It became a way of life. Eventually, a series of humiliating homophobic incidents made my position untenable.
Being well acquainted with prejudice against homosexuality in Worksop and Bassetlaw, I was delighted to be included in short film Something About Us made (in association with EDEN Film Productions) by the boys and girls of WOW - Worksop Out on Wednesday. One of the girls, Ashley, interviewed me.
Ashley and others gave imaginative and heartrending presentations in that documentary. We see brave and honest youngsters who have suffered appalling problems. We walk in their shoes, endure the harsh realities, the trials and tribulations of LGBT life and feel their pain. We are reminded that human unhappiness has effects far beyond the individual. It reaches out to touch the lives of everyone.
Centre Place is one of the most successful groups of its type. These skilled specialists run an excellent service. They rescue modern youngsters from the anxiety and shame inflicted by a cruel and ignorant heterosexual majority.
There has been progress - but even well into the 21st century, many gay pupils get beaten up and are more likely to commit suicide than their heterosexual counterparts. Accordingly, we should all pull together to combat homophobia.
Narvel Annable
Contact Details
The Centre Place
Abbey Street Community Centre
Abbey Street
Worksop
Nottinghamshire
S80 2LA
Tel: 01909 479191
Mobile: 07977673167
The slideshow below are photos taken on the day:
Dear Editor,
Claire Bradley of www.centreplace.org.uk invited PC Fred Bray, Terry Durand and Narvel Annable to join a splendid celebration on February 24th at the Ceres Suite, Queens Building on Potter Street in Worksop.
Fred Bray, a Hate Crime Officer is very keen to support the LGBT cause. He attends all Belper Friends meetings and has been a tower of strength for our group.
Claire and Helen Azar launched a group called Worksop Out on Wednesday [WOW] which has been going strong.
https://www.lgbtplusnotts.org.uk/
The management and volunteers have been supporting young LGBT people for 25 years. This is evidence of good organisation, dedication and hard work from an excellent team who provide activities and counselling for young people who are coming to terms with their sexuality. I’ve been grateful for several guest speaker appearances over the years and thank the Worksop Guardian for printing features in support of WOW – some of which were on display at the event.
Clair and her team laid on a bountiful spread of sandwiches and delicious cake enjoyed by more than fifty jolly people in the magnificent Ceres Suite.
Apart from enjoying the food, I have a personal interest in Clair’s work. From 1978 to 1995, I was a history master at the Valley Comprehensive School in Worksop. I taught as I was taught in the 1950s - too strict, too formal and reluctant to embrace progressive trends in state education which arrived in the 1980s.
This ‘Mr Chips’ mindset was a cloak to conceal the continuing anxiety of leading a double life. Inside, I was a frightened homosexual trying to look like a confident heterosexual on the outside. It had to look like a teacher easily fitting in with pupils and staff.
For 17 years, I succeeded in dodging disapproval and maintained a mask of po-faced respectability. Like most isolated, closeted gay men, I spoke little of myself and was constantly on guard. It became a way of life. Eventually, a series of humiliating homophobic incidents made my position untenable.
Being well acquainted with prejudice against homosexuality in Worksop and Bassetlaw, I was delighted to be included in short film Something About Us made (in association with EDEN Film Productions) by the boys and girls of WOW - Worksop Out on Wednesday. One of the girls, Ashley, interviewed me.
Ashley and others gave imaginative and heartrending presentations in that documentary. We see brave and honest youngsters who have suffered appalling problems. We walk in their shoes, endure the harsh realities, the trials and tribulations of LGBT life and feel their pain. We are reminded that human unhappiness has effects far beyond the individual. It reaches out to touch the lives of everyone.
Centre Place is one of the most successful groups of its type. These skilled specialists run an excellent service. They rescue modern youngsters from the anxiety and shame inflicted by a cruel and ignorant heterosexual majority.
There has been progress - but even well into the 21st century, many gay pupils get beaten up and are more likely to commit suicide than their heterosexual counterparts. Accordingly, we should all pull together to combat homophobia.
Narvel Annable
Contact Details
The Centre Place
Abbey Street Community Centre
Abbey Street
Worksop
Nottinghamshire
S80 2LA
Tel: 01909 479191
Mobile: 07977673167
The slideshow below are photos taken on the day:
Letter to the Derby Telegraph, march 10th 2021
Dear Editor,
Following the global controversy of the Harry and Meghan interview with its dire implications for the future of the Commonwealth, I recalled my letter printed in the Derby Telegraph and the Nottingham Evening Post on November 3rd 2011. The point of this letter is to illustrate the close connection between racial and homophobic injustice.
THE GHOST THAT WALKS
‘The Commonwealth is a comic-book phantom of international organisations. It is the ghost that walks.’
This savage criticism was written by Greg Sheridan, the Foreign Editor of The Western Australian to coincide with the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting on October 30th 2011.
Such a ferocious attack on a loose association of 54 countries is hardly surprising. In the teeth of a clear commitment from the Commonwealth Secretary General, Kamalesh Sharma, to ‘tolerance, respect and understanding in matters of sexual orientation’: it is a disgrace that 36 member states continue to treat same-sex relations as a serious criminal offence. Every day gay people suffer vilification and punishment inflicted by cruel laws dating from colonial days.
On BBC TV, 30.10.11, Andrew Marr reminded the PM, David Cameron, that people have looked to this conference to take a hard line with the homophobic nations in Africa. He gave the example of Uganda where homosexuals are routinely targeted with threats, violence and endure sentences of up to ten years in brutal prisons.
I’m grateful to Mr Cameron for confirming that British foreign aid will be withheld from countries who continue to persecute their gay citizens.
Narvel Annable
Following the global controversy of the Harry and Meghan interview with its dire implications for the future of the Commonwealth, I recalled my letter printed in the Derby Telegraph and the Nottingham Evening Post on November 3rd 2011. The point of this letter is to illustrate the close connection between racial and homophobic injustice.
THE GHOST THAT WALKS
‘The Commonwealth is a comic-book phantom of international organisations. It is the ghost that walks.’
This savage criticism was written by Greg Sheridan, the Foreign Editor of The Western Australian to coincide with the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting on October 30th 2011.
Such a ferocious attack on a loose association of 54 countries is hardly surprising. In the teeth of a clear commitment from the Commonwealth Secretary General, Kamalesh Sharma, to ‘tolerance, respect and understanding in matters of sexual orientation’: it is a disgrace that 36 member states continue to treat same-sex relations as a serious criminal offence. Every day gay people suffer vilification and punishment inflicted by cruel laws dating from colonial days.
On BBC TV, 30.10.11, Andrew Marr reminded the PM, David Cameron, that people have looked to this conference to take a hard line with the homophobic nations in Africa. He gave the example of Uganda where homosexuals are routinely targeted with threats, violence and endure sentences of up to ten years in brutal prisons.
I’m grateful to Mr Cameron for confirming that British foreign aid will be withheld from countries who continue to persecute their gay citizens.
Narvel Annable
