Special Edition- A Good Sowel

I wasn't going to post this but think today is day to do it. I wrote it nearly a month ago but today is the day we say goodbye so it seems right.

A Good Sowel

November 2nd 2024

It’s All Soul’s Day today, otherwise known as the Commemoration of the Faithful Departed and is a day of remembrance and prayer. These days I don’t align with a specific religion per se but for me today it will still be one of remembrance and prayer. Today it was announced that Glasgow comic Janey Godley, breathed her last and left her nearest and dearest behind, after a bare knuckle fight with cancer. As is often the way, cancer delivered the knockout blow. She passed peacefully at the Prince and Princess of Wales Hospice just a stone's throw from my home surrounded by those she loved most. Many couldn’t ask for a better send off than that and thanks to the hospice care she received I’m sure it may bring them comfort that she went in such a gentle way.

It’s hard when someone we know passes not to think of our own losses in life. Like Ashley, Janey’s daughter, my Mum succumbed to cancer. My mum was a month shy of reaching 63 like Janey and I was only 22 at the time. It was such a mix of emotions to deal with and to be honest, even now I still have moments whereby I am still in the throes of grief asking “Why me? Why her? Why then?

My mammy like Ashley’s was a proper old school Glesga Mammy. While Janey was a Shettleston eastender my Mum was a Govanite through and through and I’m sure if you cut her in two she would have had Elderpark through her like a stick of rock. Mammy arrived a year before World War 2 and her mammy a year before World War 1. I don't want to cast aspersions but if you like a conspiracy then fill yer boots. You may be onto something. My Mam was brought up in a rough area when times were hard and pockets were often empty. I listened as a kid to stories of rationing, making do and mending and this mindset was very much carried into my childhood even though Mam was 40 when I arrived.

Janey’s comedy references often spoke directly to me as my Mammy was a Pippa Dee seller- the clothing equivalent of Avon or Tupperware back in the day sold from wee house parties round the town. I was often dragged to these parties as the unwilling model to prance and pose in clothes I would only keep if commissions came in. That said, I was a bonny wean and I’m sure a few things were flogged on account of the cute kid donning the sample sizes to help swell the coffers. As a single Mum in the 80’s my Mammy would work at anything to keep a roof above the head and the wolf from the door. I know anyone younger than myself will struggle with the references but as someone with a Mum that was ages with others grannies my references often belied my age. My Mum worked in bars, pulling pints, cleaned schools and would shovel shite if it meant not begging the social for cash for that was, to her the worst shame of all.

I recall reading Janey’s wonderful book Handstands in the Dark, a brutally honest account of her upbringing in the tough East End. There were many key points in her memoir that rang true for me even though Janey and I on the surface may not seem connected. I was brought up primarily by my Mum as my parents split when I was young so the majority of time was with her. I came from a background that now would have social work intervention but back then was overlooked as a domestic situation and would be settled behind closed doors. However, this meant when the door was shut, so was any kind of support. Very often my childhood solution was to shut my eyes so as not to see the full picture of what chaos was unfolding. Janey was so honest of her account of her upbringing I was oddly envious of her. I wish I too could be warts and all and tell the unpeeled truth of what happened as a kid. Janey told of going to court to get justice against her own uncle that abused her. She was beyond just brave. I am sure in her family such an event would have caused a bigger divide than the sectarian one in her later years by marrying someone of the Catholic faith. I came from a staunchly Protestant family too so again got her references. I also had the divide in my family of faith and heard stories of uncles drunkenly shouting “Fenian Bridgit” up at my Gran’s window in the hope of being let in the door. For the record, her name was Elizabeth not Bridgit.

For anyone who knew Janey’s comedy, yes she may have divided opinion, often rubbing some up the wrong way with her frank opinions but what she had was something that intimidated others and found few ways to fight against. She had truth- unwavering in your face truth. The flannel merchants and teflon types could not dodge a Janey truth bomb when it was aimed. Godley was an epicentre of ethics and be damned if you couldn’t take the heat. She knew she was entitled to her opinion and heaven help you if you thought that suppressing her would work. Janey would buck the biggest bigots with her sharp retorts and deflate the blawhards with pinprick precision. The opposition would crumble in her wake. I was once under Janey’s wing when someone online went for me and passed a comment about my disability. They were blocked but before Frank showed them the door she let out a tirade at the bloke (surprise surprise it was a man). I never felt so held by someone in comedy before. Comedy can be a lonely profession and just to know someone had yer back meant more than she would have known.

Janey had my back again when she kindly volunteered to do a fundraising gig for me at The Stand. I was in need of a wheelchair and a number of acts volunteered their time to be on the bill. I can’t thank Michael Redmond, Gary Little, Jojo Sutherland, Jo Caulfield and Janey enough for doing that for me. The funds raised ensured that I kept rolling and it raised much awareness for a charity for my condition. I will never forget the beamer on my shy husband’s face when Janey called out from the stage “How do you shag her with her wee fragile avian bones?”. He was mortified and dumbstruck. From my vantage point at the back of the gig I roared “I’m on top it’s like a rodeo”, taking the heat away from Mark’s glowing face. That was Janey though, funny with crackshot accuracy and saying what was thought to be unsayable.

I have two regrets in connection with Janey. One was at the Scottish Comedy Awards a number of years ago, I attended on my own. I was not up for any awards but was there for the atmosphere and the camaraderie. It was held at the swanky Blythswood Hotel and on arrival I felt quite out of place. While a member of the comedy community, I’m not really sure where I fit in and who my tribe are. Considering I first joined the throng in 2008 you’d think I would know by now but even today, I still feel like a fish out of water and disconnected from many of the runners and riders. There was no specific seating plan as people were just expected to turn up and sit wherever. I found a relatively empty table and sat in solitude passing pleasantries to people going by or nodding a quick hello. Janey and her daughter Ashley came and sat at the head of the table I was at. I instantly started to feel like I was drowning and in over my head. The imposter syndrome kicked in and I sensed I was about to be escorted off the premises for trespass. I was flustered as I knew of Janey and Ashley but didn’t feel I knew them, not properly. The hot, acidic sting of gastric reflux rose in my gullet. It was nerves and I didn’t know how to calm them. Across the table Janey and Ashley sat composed in their seats oblivious to the sweaty mess I was becoming at their arrival. I just felt I had no business being sat with them. Rather than steel myself and reboot my brain with some positive affirmation, I let the demon in my head win and rose from the table and ended up sitting with some lesser known comedians that I knew well. I moved to a wee corner and felt safe. Since then, I have been plagued by my rude move that night. I moved as though outwardly they were the issue but inwardly it was me. All me. My awkwardness, my insecurities, my damn brain. I wish I had reached out that night but I didn’t. The intimidation I felt was not at their hand but at my head. I have wanted to contact her a number of times seeking advice but deleted the email for fear of rejection. I would comment on a live stream and then instantly wish I could just delete it again, wishing she’d never seen it. Feeling like a fly in the ointment rather than a fan of her work and a comedy apprentice trying to learn from a master craftsman.

My second regret is having not had the courage to tell Janey what I thought of her while she was still here. Again like my own Mum, I didn’t say what needed to be said when I had the chance. My Mum felt like quite an intimidating presence at times and I would fear a negative response, so instead said nothing. Janey made me feel the same way. I felt like a child wanting to impress a mammy but not having the courage to utter a peep for fear of disappointment. I have gigged alongside her a number of times. One in particular was at Castlemilk for a charity called Waves. It was a support slot for Janey as there were only the two of us on the bill. I think another comedian, Susie McCabe was due to gig with her but for some reason was unable and somehow I got the empty slot. I was keen to perform as Castlemilk holds a sweet spot in my heart having previously worked there and lived nearby but more so the charity supported women from violent environments so it was a worthwhile cause that felt right to support. I made local references that were just for that gig, to personalise the night and my short twenty minute set flew by. It went well and the crowd seemed to enjoy the jokes. Janey obviously blew the roof off the place in the second half and the gig was deemed a success. When Janey went online and praised my work that night I was on cloud nine. It felt like impressing my own Mammy, that I did a good job and not only that helped raise money and awareness of a good cause.

I hope that is what Janey will be remembered for most of all- being a good soul. A salt of the earth, hard working good wummin who helped raise up those around her with good deeds. Aye she rubbed up the righteous and pious the wrong way often exposing their flaws in the process but not without good cause. She was a truth teller rather than just a mere story teller and called out bad people without fear.

Today, I will remember her fondly as I will remember my own Mum too. Both gone too soon. To Ashley, I know the void is huge and can never be replaced and I can only offer an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on. I won’t say time heals as it doesn’t really but you just learn to live around it. To me the last 24 years I have imagined that my Mum is just always in another room. Not gone as such but just not where I am. I hope it comforts you in this dark time that many like me knew your Ma was one of the good ones and a good sowel for sure.