IDAHO

For the International Day against Homophobia, this short story is based on the events that take place in Gareth Russell's novel, Popular. To read more, Popular can be ordered from HERE. 

For those of you who have read the book, this extract takes place somewhere around chapter 4, Pray for us sinners.

*

Kerry Davison stared languidly at her own reflection in the bathroom mirrors of the Royal North of Ireland Yacht Club in Cultra and sighed. "Imogen, what do you call those people who hate gay people?"

"Povos."

Kerry paused for a minute, considering her friend's answer. "No, no... that's not it."

"It is. Look at Eastenders. Chryed didn't have a very easy time of it there, did they?"

"Who's Chryed?"

"Christian and Syed," Imogen answered, incredulously. "The openly working-class gay love story?"

Kerry nodded. "Oh... Oh, yes. But there's definitely a word for it. A real word."

Meredith swept into the bathroom and took her place at the sink next to Imogen. 

"Meredith, what's the real word for people who hate gay people?" Kerry asked, earning her a filthy look from Imogen.

"Baptists."

"That's sectarian," Kerry snapped.

"Homophobes," answered Meredith, applying a light sheen of gloss to her lips. "The correct word is homophobes."

Kerry nodded triumphantly. "Yes! That's the one. Homophobes. Why?"

"Because -phobic means fear of and homo is the first syllable of homosexual."

"No, but, I mean, why?" asked Kerry, silently congratulating herself on having curls that looked as if little angels had knitted them from liquid beams of pure sunshine. "Why?"

"Bitches be crazy," explained Imogen, in a very serious voice. "It's like when people were racist. Anti-banter times."

"We were never allowed to be homophobic," Kerry announced piously, carefully pronouncing her new favourite word, homophobic. "Never. Il Padre would have been livid if we had been so prejudiced. I do have a gay uncle in Toronto after all."

"Do you?" asked Meredith, in surprise.

Kerry placed her hand on her chest in faux mortification. "You're right, that is very politically incorrect of me. I have an uncle, who happens to be gay."

"I think homophobia's disgusting," said Imogen. "And fucking stupid. I mean, imagine what it does to you when you hear that kind of thing? Imagine what it's like to grow up and never be able to have all the kissing and flirting and boyfriend banter we have. Well, not you, Meredith. You'd miss out on your whole teenage years and, frankly, I cannot think of anything more horrific, given how sensationally delightful my own have been." She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulders and gazed into the mirror. "People are just so fucking stupid."

*

Years later, if you had asked Cameron Matthews what had caused the horrendous, gut-wrenching mess of his first year of knowing Blake Hartman, he would have sworn up and down on a stack of Bibles that the reason had been that Blake's father was a pastor. As far as Cameron was concerned, it was quite clear that the whole root and branch of Blake's problem had lain in the plastic evangelicalism of the Shepherd of Judea Baptist Church in Carryduff. Added to this was the fact that Meredith's loyal Catholicism kept up a steady stream of emotional propaganda insisting that this was living proof that priests should never have children. Imogen had taken the whole thing far too far by launching into a rant that blamed the entirety of Protestantism, arguing that without the Virgin Mary no-one could be happy. Ever. Blake, however, was insistent that initially it had nothing to do with his father's job. It was only once the whole issue of his sexuality moved from his unconscious into his conscious that Blake began to consider what kind of impact it would have on his family. Before that, from as far back as he could remember, there had been a lingering uncertain fear, deep in his gut; there had been a sense of personal unease, as if something did not quite "fit". 

If you had asked Blake in the years before he met Cameron if he had a problem with homosexuality, he would honestly and instinctively have answered, no. No, he did not. But had anyone ever implied or assumed that he himself was gay, Blake would have felt a rising flush of panic as he rushed to correct them. Why he felt this way was anybody's guess. On paper, there was absolutely no reason why he should feel this way. He had come from a loving family in one of the most liberal states in America and he could never, ever remember a time when his father had preached a sermon on homosexuality. Or even mentioned it, at all, come to think of it. With the benefit of hindsight and maturity, Blake would later realise that it was maybe something about his deep need to be respected by his peers; respect was fundamentally important to Blake and it was something he unconsciously assumed he could not have if he was gay. If gay was the punchline of every joke, it was clear to Blake that whilst it was something that could be tolerated, it wasn't something that could be respected. In conclusion, it was banter, far more than the Bible, which had done the real damage to Blake Hartman, long before he even reached the age of seventeen.

On the same Saturday in November as Meredith, Imogen, Cameron and Kerry had been enjoying lunch with Cameron's mother in the Royal North of Ireland Yacht Club, Blake sat idly in the pretty, seaside grounds of Belmont Grammar School, three miles away, with the Mount Olivet football team. Soccer was not exactly Blake's forte and he had been stunned to the point of devastation to realise that lacrosse wasn't really played in British schools. Worse, he would apparently have to wait until after Easter to get involved in track and tennis, which were, by far, his best sports. That left swimming and soccer for the winter semester, since he hadn't played American football back in New Canaan and was therefore extremely reluctant to go anywhere near what looked like the bone-crunching, face-bruising psychosis of rugby. Soccer would have suffice in the meantime and today was a Saturday away game, with the Mount Olivet squad currently winning 2-1. Blake had yet to play.

A groan went up from his teammates on the bench when a kid from Belmont scored an equalising goal. The kid was good and Mount Olivet's goalkeeper, Andrew Henton-Worley, looked pissed. Looking over at Mount Olivet's coach, Mr Cavan, Blake could see that the feeling was mutual.

"Who's that?" asked a Mount Olivet sub, whose name Blake was struggling to remember.

"Edward Hanna," answered another. "He's Rory Hanna's cousin. He's really good. Like, an amazing player."

The nameless sub nodded. "Yeah. Henton-Worley looks pissed."

A few of the guys laughed; others muttered angry things under their breath implying that Andrew should be pissed. Blake squinted into the Sun, the ultimate rarity in mid-November Belfast. It was unlikely that he'd be called to play now; unless someone got injured. Settling back, he began absent-mindedly tapping out a rhythm with his right foot. Snippets of conversation bounced around him. None of them very interesting; most of them about people he did not know or places he'd never been. There was a small beep from inside his sports bag. Reaching in to extract his phone, a little smile danced across his face when he saw that it was a text from Cameron.

Cameron: How's the match going? Shanter?

Blake: Hey! Yeah, it's going okay, I guess. We're tied. Haven't played yet. What's shanter?

C: "Shit banter." :)

B: Hahahahaha! Lame. How was lunch?

C: Really nice. Mummy and Kerry got caught up in an epic convo about how much they love kittens. What are your plans for the rest of the day? PS - I am not lame. I am awesome. I am anti-shanter.x

B: Kitten convo? Sounds shanterous, Cameron ;) Getting a lift back on the school bus to Malone, then probably going to walk to the Europa and get the bus back to C'duff. PS- You are still lame.

C: Do you want to come up to mine to hang? For anti-shanter purposes, obv. We should be done in like an hour?

B: Where'd my x go?

C: Same place mine went.

B: I didn't send one in the first place.

C: Exactly.x

B: :) Haha. Well played, C-Dog.x

C: Sorry to hear you haven't played yet.x

B:"Hi, my name is Cameron Matthews, and my friend Blake Hartman just accidentally forgot to respond to my very kind invitation to hangout at my house this evening. But rather than repeat the question like a big boy, I'm going to send a pointless text about something else and hope that reminds him." See you at your house at 4? Can't wait. B-Dog in da house (literally) x

C: I hate you. See you at 4 x

B: "Lame - the new fragrance from Cameron Matthews." :) x

Blake bit the bottom of his lip in a smile and tossed the phone back in his bag. The referee's whistle blew and Blake refocused on the game. Edward Hanna had just scored a second goal, bringing the score to 2-3 in Belmont's favour. Mr Cavan looked like he was about to punch a wall.

"Is Edward Hanna Rory's cousin?" asked Titus Pitt, a sixth year popular boy, famous for his epic house parties.

"Gay Rory? Yeah," answered another. A tiny, faint twinge gripped Blake's oesophagus. He widened his feet slightly on the ground and gripped his hands a little harder. He looked more masculine this way.

Titus nodded. "I like Rory. He's good banter." As far as North Down boys went, it was hard to think of a higher form of compliment.

"Yeah," said Titus's friend. "I don't agree with the whole gay thing, but I like Rory. He's a good lad. He's not annoying about the whole thing, either."

Titus agreed. "Yeah, absolutely. Blake?"

Blake looked up and the weight on his chest was back. The weight he knew by instinct, but could not name. Why had they turned to talk to him at this point in the conversation? "Yeah?"

"Mr Cavan says you're amazing at tennis?"

The weight lightened. "I played it back in the States."

"Cool. You should come to our tennis club sometime, if you want to keep it up? The facilities are sweet."

"Oh, thanks, Titus. Yeah, I'll look into it. Thank you."

"You enjoyed tennis, then?" asked Titus's friend. "Back in America?"

"Eh, yeah, I loved it. That's where I met my ex-girlfriend," Blake said. Titus and his friend nodded and asked a few more questions. A soothing balm, like an antacid, spread through Blake's body. They knew he wasn't gay. And Blake pushed any attempt to analyse why he'd just said what he'd said right out of his head. His phone beeped from back inside his bag and he reached to get it, smiling when he saw who the text was from.

Exam Panic

Photo: Lucy Williams as Catherine O'Rourke and Hugo Diamond as Mark Kingston from the Autumn 2011 theatre production of Popular, based on the novel by Gareth Russell.

Panicking with your exams? 

Well, you're not the only ones. Here's how the characters in Popular coped with their exams. (An extract from Popular by Gareth Russell.)

***

‘What’s your timetable like?’ asked Cameron, as they sat around a table in the school library.

‘Sad,’ said Kerry. ‘There are so many exams on it – one after another! And I have to come in on Saturday for English Lit in the morning and History in the afternoon!’

‘My first exam is Physics,’ sighed Cameron. ‘How unfair is that?’

‘No drinking in the library,’ said a prim voice from behind the main desk.

‘Miss, are you joking?’ argued Cameron. ‘Without my Diet Coke, I’ll die!’

‘He’s diabetic!’ roared Kerry.

‘A lie too far, Kerry,’ muttered Meredith. ‘A lie too far.’

‘How are we supposed to revise Biology?’ asked Imogen indignantly. ‘Mr. Corbett’s such a crappy teacher. We don’t have any notes! He so obviously doesn’t care about our education, at all.'

‘We’re screwed for Science in general though,’ said Cameron.

‘What if we cram?’ suggested Catherine.

‘No!’ barked Kerry. ‘You know the rules – if the ship’s sinking, we all go down with it. Secret revisers will be punishèd.’

‘Well, maybe I’ll just do some myself tonight,’ said Catherine. ‘Just to be on the safe side.’

‘No!’ said Kerry, angrily smacking her fist on the table. ‘Didn’t you hear what I just said?’

‘But…’

‘Don’t question her,’ commanded Imogen. ‘Rules are rules.’

‘But, I…’

‘Look, do you want a slap in the face?’ threatened Imogen, raising her hand.

‘No!’ surrendered Catherine. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Good.’

‘We’ll all be fine,’ shrugged Meredith. ‘Anyway, apparently for Chemistry we don’t even have to take a written test, it’s just a practical.’

‘Oh well, in that case,’ said Imogen, ‘there’s no point even opening the textbook, is there? That would be a complete waste of my time.’

‘Will the table at the back please keep it down?’ asked the librarian.

‘Power-mad bitch,’ muttered Imogen.

*

Over the next few weeks, the beautiful May sunshine meant that Meredith, Imogen and Cameron spent more of their time at each others’ houses, relaxing outside with their books open on the table next to them – more for show than anything else. Meredith was currently on the sun-lounger reading the Poor Little Rich Girl column in Tatler and nodding at every other sentence. ‘Gosh, it’s so true,’ she sighed. ‘It is so true.’

Lying next to her in a crêpe de Chine dress by Chanel with star-shaped sunglasses, a plethora of rings, bangles and a Marlboro Light for accessories, Imogen was mentally debating whether to go Brazilian or Hollywood for the group’s forthcoming holiday to Mexico and Cameron was drinking a cold Diet Coke and pondering what it might be like to actually want to work on a day like this

‘What are your plans for revision, Imogen?’ asked Cameron, taking another drink of Diet Coke.

‘Saint Jude,’ she replied. ‘Well, I mean, it’s sort of staggered really. I’ll start off with Saint Giuseppe and Saint Thomas Aquinas, but I think in the end it’s all going to come down to Saint Jude.’

‘Oh, he’s very good,’ said Meredith.

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes. I’ve used him before. He really comes through. He’s very efficient.’

‘What kind of levels of efficiency are we talking about?’ asked Imogen.

Meredith paused to think. ‘Saint Teresa.’

‘Not as good as Saint Anthony?’

‘No, but then, he’s the best, isn’t he?’

‘He’s fabulous,’ said Imogen, lighting another cigarette. ‘I think he’s absolutely tremendous. I love his work. He’s like the Ronseal saint – does exactly what it says on the tin.’

‘Well as long as you both have a plan,’ sighed Cameron lazily.

*

On the morning of the first exam, Catherine had got so nervous she had rushed to the toilet three times already. Sitting in one of the cubicles, she heard the voices of Anastasia, Natasha and Tangela, as they arrived to re-apply their lip-glosses at the bathroom mirrors. ‘Did you see him?’ asked Natasha.

‘I know, right?’ said Tangela.

‘I told you,’ sighed Anastasia. ‘He’s weird.’

‘He’s just so rude recently and I seriously don’t understand why Catherine’s still with him,’ Tangela said. ‘I mean... she can’t be that desperate.’

‘Obvo she is,’ said Natasha, as she puckered her lips. ‘Everyone’s talking about how moody and angry and weird he is and how she doesn’t even seem to notice.’

‘Because she is that desperate. Obviously.’

As the three girls walked out, still gossiping about her, Catherine had to put a hand on her chest to try and steady her breathing. What had happened? What had they done that had made the whole school change their mind about them? And why had no-one said anything to her? Maybe it was just Anastasia’s group that felt that way? After all, Anastasia had always thought he was kind of stupid... maybe that’s what they meant? With great difficulty, she put their comments to the back of her mind and tried to ignore what she had just heard – the very same policy she had employed with her relationship for the last three months.

As she returned to wait outside the Assembly Hall before the exam started, Catherine was distracted from her worrying by the sight of panic-stricken students all around her. Kerry was holding an unblemished copy of Macbeth in her right hand and was digging her nails into the arm of a terrified-looking, well-prepared Patsy Harris, hissing: ‘What do you mean she kills herself?  I thought her hands were just dirty!’ In a corner, Imogen’s lips were moving in furious, rhythmic prayer. She had just finished rattling through Saint Thomas’s prayer for a student and she had now embarked on another round of Hail Marys. The only person who seemed calm, of course, was Meredith, who hadn’t even bothered with last-minute revision cards. With twenty minutes still to go before the doors opened, Catherine sat down to have one last read of her Macbeth notes and Cameron wandered off down the corridor to use the bathroom.

When he pushed the swing door open, Cameron was confronted by the sight of Mark Kingston, with his hands placed on either side of the sink, ashen-faced. Turning to see who it was, the relief was palpable on Mark’s face. ‘Cam... Cameron, I’m so worried. I forgot I got like this at exams. I ... I need to do well.’

Cameron went over to him and put one hand on his shoulder and another on his arm, patting it reassuringly. ‘Mark, it’s OK. It’s fine. . You always freak out and you always do well.’

‘Cameron.... I have to do well. Doing well. It’s important to me. I can’t...  I can’t fuck them up.’

‘You won’t.’

‘You don’t know that!’ 

‘Listen, you’ll be fine. You’re smart and you’ll definitively have done enough revision. Mark, if someone like you isn’t going to do well in these exams, then what chance has anyone else got? I promise it’ll be fine. Just like it always is. ’

Mark nodded and took a big gulp of air to steady himself. ‘Thanks, Cameron. Thanks.’

With normalcy more-or-less restored, awkwardness settled over them as they remembered the tensions of the last five months. ‘I should probably get back to the Hall,’ Mark muttered. ‘Thanks and...’

‘Yeah. I’ll see you around,’ said Cameron. ‘Good luck.’

‘Thanks,’ said Mark, walking away. ‘Yeah, thanks and... good luck.’

*

By and large, the GCSEs passed without any real incident, apart from the frankly horrifying moment when Kerry realised there was coursework for Business Studies that she had never handed in;  Cameron’s total inability to recall how to say anything in his Spanish Oral that wasn’t in the present tense; and, of course,  the unforgettable terrified squeak from Imogen at the beginning of the History exam, when she had opened the first page to see the title The English Civil War before realising that their module – Weimar and Nazi Germany – was actually listed three pages later. For a split second, she had thought that she had paid such poor attention in class that she had revised for the wrong country and wrong century. Her eyes had shot Heavenward, with an accusatory glint in them, but after turning more pages, she breathed a sigh of relief and then looked up again with an apologetic smile.

And so it was on a blisteringly hot summer’s day in the middle of June that the last GCSE exam took place for that year at Mount Olivet Grammar School. Walking out into the sunshine in his school uniform, Cameron breathed a happy sigh of relief and was about to call Meredith to see what the plans for that night were, when Mark walked up behind him. The two hadn’t spoken since the day of Mark’s ritual pre-exam panic in the boys’ bathroom, almost three weeks earlier.

‘Hey. What’d you think of the exam?’

‘It was OK,’ answered Cameron. ‘Although I don’t think they could’ve asked anymore questions on Blood Brothers if they’d tried.’

‘I know!’

*

To order your copy of Popular and read more about GCSEs, running away from your Physics mock GCSE and life for the GCSE year at Mount Olivet Grammar School, Belfast, click HERE or visit your local book-store!

PS - If you've any hilarious/cringeworthy exam stories, feel free to share them in our comments section!

University Students Against Homophobia

An amazing video from the Get Real Movement in the USA. I urge everyone to watch it; it's funny, moving and smart.

Dead Funny

It is hard to describe how much I adored Cleo Spender, the fictional seventy-something A-List socialite and former TV superstar, who is one of the main (and certainly most delightful) characters in Louise Fennell's debut novel, Dead Rich. Impossibly glamorous and equally beautiful, Cleo has decided to grow old deliciously and perhaps my favourite scene in the entire novel was when she is off filming on the slopes of Kathmandu, where "bathed in the golden light of dusk Cleo looked extraordinary, like the sphinx, beautiful and darkly mysterious". 

Dead Rich, published this year by Bedford Square Books and now available through Simon & Schuster, is the story of the Spender family, "glamorous, rich and very, very famous." In Louise Fennell's novel, they're modern Britain's ultimate celebrities, easily dominating the pap-filled, champagne-fuelled world of the tabloids, as well as the older world of London high society. The Spenders are basically like a cross between the Kardashians and the Mitfords and Dead Rich is therefore a warts-and-all expose of what life for today's super-wealthy and super-famous can be. From the loathsomely self-obsessed Valentine Robinson to the aforementioned Cleo, who is relentless in her fabulousness, Dead Rich is packed full of brilliantly improbable yet thoroughly believable characters, from bed-hopping lotharios to bisexual property empire heirs and the spoiled uber-brats of celebrity parents. Clever, naughty, honest, camp and very, very funny, Dead Rich had me laughing out loud and hoping that it'll make the transition to the Silver Screen very soon!

"Game Change"

I just saw the trailer for HBO's new television drama, Game Change, based on the 2008 American presidential campaign. The drama, which stars Woody Harrelson, Ed Harris and Julianne Moore, is the story of how Sarah Palin came to be nominated as the Republican Party's candidate for vice-president and how Senator McCain's campaign ultimately ended in defeat for him and victory for Barack Obama. The trailer made me very, very excited to see it and the performances, script and cinematography all look amazing. 

The Six Wives of Henry VIII

Henry VIII, who ruled England, Wales and Ireland from 1509 until his death in 1547, was famously married six times. Commitmentphobe or commitment-addict - who's to say?

Anyway, being married six times is and was extraordinary and in the years since, people have argued quite a lot about why one of the most powerful men in British history had such a messy private life. Debates in books and on the Internet between "fans" of the various wives often get quite vicious and part of the reason is that Henry VIII's romantic adventures helped radically change the face of history. As Dr. David Starkey wrote in his 2003 book on Henry's marriages, "The Six Wives of Henry VIII is one of the world's great stories ... It is more far-fetched than any soap opera; as sexy and violent as any tabloid; and darker and more disturbing than the legend of Bluebeard. It is both a great love story and a supreme political thriller .... What is strangest of all, it is true. And being true, it is supremely important."

There are few stories in History I love more than those of Henry VIII and his six very unlucky wives. As Starkey says, you can't make this stuff up!

1. Katherine of Aragon (1485 - 1536) Henry's wife from 1509 to 1533; she was divorced. The youngest daughter of the King and Queen of Spain, Katherine was originally married to Henry's elder brother, Prince Arthur. (It was this fact which was later used by Henry as a reason to divorce her. Conveniently, he decided marrying your brother's widow was against God's law at the same time as he also discovered he didn't find Katherine attractive anymore...) Arthur and Katherine were both teenagers at the time and Arthur died during a plague epidemic six months after the wedding, leaving Katherine a widow at the age of sixteen. For the next seven years, she remained in England while her father and father-in-law tried to renegotiate the treaty between their two countries. When her father-in-law Henry VII died in 1509, the 17 year-old Henry became King Henry VIII and almost immediately married Katherine, now twenty-three, in a private ceremony at Greenwich. Whether it was because he was in love with her, because of her powerful royal connections abroad or to please his advisers is anybody's guess. The young king - who was then tall, handsome and popular (what a difference 30 years and 30 stone would make...) - certainly seemed to find his dainty Spanish bride very appealing. In many ways, Katherine  of Aragon was a perfect queen. She was clever, dignified and well-connected. Henry soon began to take mistresses, but in public Queen Katherine was always treated with great respect. Early in their marriage, she also enjoyed great political power, which she often used to Spain's advantage, but in 1513, she also helped lead England's government in defeating an invading Scottish army (Henry was busy fighting an expensive and rather pointless war against the French.) Devoutly religious, Katherine was devastated when her only son, Henry, Duke of Cornwall, died at the age of six weeks. All her other pregnancies ended in heartbreak. The Queen finally gave birth to a healthy daughter, Mary, in February 1516, but eight years later she entered the menopause and could have no more children. In 1525, Henry began to seriously consider a divorce, in order to have a son with another wife. In 1527, he fell obsessively in love with one of Katherine's ladies-in-waiting, Anne Boleyn. Katherine fought the divorce tooth and nail, earning herself many devoted followers and the adoration of many of ordinary Londoners. However, her heroic defence of her marriage and her refusal to accept a divorce ironically ended up weakening the Church she was loved so much. With the Catholic Church unable to give Henry the divorce he wanted because of Katherine's opposition, Henry began to move further and further away from loyalty to the Pope. In 1531, Katherine was banished from Court and she never saw her husband again. She lived originally at The More, a lavish palace where she had over 200 servants; with her usual flair for melodrama, Katherine complained that it was like having a cell in Purgatory. She was officially divorced in 1533, but she never accepted the divorce as legal. She died of cancer in 1536 and she was survived by her 20 year-old daughter, Mary, who became Queen Mary Tudor in 1553. Some historians have been critical of Katherine and her stubbornness, but many more have praised her for the courage and determination she showed in resisting her husband's attempts to dismiss her.

2. Anne Boleyn (1507 - 1536) Henry's second wife from 1532/1533 until 1536; she was executed. The youngest child of Sir Thomas Boleyn and his well-connected wife, Lady Elizabeth, Anne was born in England, probably in the summer of 1507. Her father was the heir of his Irish grandfather, the Earl of Ormonde, one of the wealthiest and most powerful members of the Irish aristocracy; her mother was the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk, one of the greatest lords in England. Anne's father was a diplomat and she was sent abroad as a child to be educated as a companion to the Austrian and then the French royal families. She was fluent in French and she was also taught Latin, calligraphy, music, dance, theology, embroidery and poetry. Of medium height, with long dark hair, a delicate physique and beautiful dark eyes, Anne returned to England at the age of fifteen, although people would later observe that because of a childhood spent in Paris, she always seemed far more French than English. More nonsense has been written about Anne Boleyn than about any other queen in English history; there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that she was anywhere near as nasty, unpleasant, immoral or cruel as later popular legend suggested. In fact, as a young woman, Anne earned nothing but praise everywhere she went. Lively, fun-loving, intelligent, witty and apparently the best-dressed young woman of her generation, Anne had many admirers, all of whom she cleverly managed to keep at arm's length. Then, Henry VIII fell so violently, obsessively and tragically in love with her. Anne initially rejected the King's advances, because she did not want to become one of his many mistresses. Impressed by her, he proposed marriage and she accepted. That engagement lasted six years and in time, Anne came to be seen by many as the power behind the throne. Ambitious and intelligent, Anne used her new-found influence to promote Protestant and reformist theologians, although she herself always remained a Catholic. Despite this, her hatred of the Pope was intense and she rejoiced when England split with the Vatican in 1533. She was secretly married to Henry, probably in late 1532, and crowned queen in a magnificent ceremony in 1533. Her daughter, Elizabeth, was born that September. In many ways, Anne Boleyn was an excellent queen. She was intelligent, sophisticated and cultured; she patronised scholars, encouraged the arts, was a very, very generous patron of charity and she championed an end to death by burning for heresy. However, she incurred her husband's hatred by refusing to meekly accept his many adulteries and when she turned against the Reformation in 1536 because of its greed and its closure of the monasteries, her former political allies turned against her too. After two miscarriages, she was arrested on 2 May 1536 and taken to the Tower of London. A palace servant was tortured into providing evidence against her and four of her male friends and supporters were arrested and executed on the charge of having adulterous sex with her, including, horrifyingly, her own brother. At her trial, Anne behaved with great dignity and denied all the charges. The Lord Mayor of London wrote that she had been the victim of a terrible miscarriage of justice and all the evidence was false. She was beheaded on 19 May 1536 and went to her death bravely, according to the eyewitnesses, many of whom knelt as a sign of respect. Her daughter, Elizabeth, later became one of England's greatest rulers. Anne was called by one historian "the most important queen consort this country has ever had."

3. Jane Seymour (?1508 - 1537) Henry's third wife in 1536 and 1537; she died. The daughter of a country squire and his wife, Jane was a quiet, plain girl, with milk-white skin. She served briefly as a lady-in-waiting to Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, before Henry VIII developed a sexual interest in her in 1535. Jane initially seemed flattered by the King's interest, but she ultimately rejected them and his gifts of money. Jane was poorly educated, quiet, submissive and easily manipulated by those around her. In short, she was the opposite of Henry's first two wives and only twenty-four hours after Anne Boleyn's death, Henry asked her to marry him. They were married ten days later and Jane was pregnant within nine months. Deeply conscious of the fact that she had been born a commoner, Jane was strict with her servants - to the point of a possible O.C.D. She liked counting the number of pearl buttons they had on their dresses. She gave birth to the future King Edward VI in October 1537, but post-natal complications set in and she died in great agony two weeks later. Jane was given a splendid funeral and Henry was buried next to her, which has led to the idea that she was the wife he loved the most. In fact, his treatment of her often bordered on bullying and the reason he was buried next to the poor woman was almost certainly because she had given him a son.

4. Anne of Cleves (1515 - 1557). Henry's fourth wife in 1540; she was divorced. The dumpy but likable daughter of a German duke, Anne was promoted by Protestants in Henry's government as a useful tool to build an alliance with an anti-Catholic group of German princes. Despite the politics behind it, the royal marriage was a disaster. Henry claimed Anne was ugly, smelly and boring; she can't exactly have found the porky prince much of a catch either. It ended in divorce six months later, with Anne receiving one of the largest divorces in human history as thanks for her co-operation.

5. Catherine Howard (?1523-1542). Henry's fifth wife from 1540 to 1542; she was executed. The young, sexy and fun-loving niece of the Duke of Norfolk, Catherine was brought to Court as a teenager to serve as a lady-in-waiting to Anne of Cleves. Apparently, from the moment the middle-aged Henry clapped eyes on her, he was smitten. Like a middle-aged billionaire and his young trophy-wife, Henry and Catherine were an odd pair. They were married within days of Henry's divorce from Queen Anne and the new queen enjoyed herself with parties, jewels, clothes and presents. She was a gossip, a flirt and a material girl, but harmless. However, rumours soon circulated that she had not been a virgin at the time she married and this led to an investigation into her private life. A love letter was found from the Queen to a handsome young courtier called Thomas Culpepper, written after her marriage and the Queen and her lover were both executed. Catherine's favourite lady-in-waiting and her secretary were both executed as well, for helping cover-up details of the queen's behaviour. Whether Catherine Howard was actually guilty of adultery is impossible to tell.

6. Katherine Parr (1512-1548) Henry's sixth wife from 1543 to 1547; she survived him. Elegant, well-mannered and a keen reader, Katherine Parr was a wealthy society widow when Henry asked her to marry him in 1543. Katherine had no desire to marry such a dangerous man, but felt she couldn't say no. She was attractive and mature, and she helped heal the rifts between the royal children caused by their father's constant re-marriages. A devoted Protestant, she wrote two prayer books but was savagely criticised by her husband on at least one occasion because he felt her views were too radical. She survived Henry when he died, fat, feared and foul-tempered in 1547, and she then married for love to Lord Thomas Seymour. Tragically, Katherine Parr died giving birth to Seymour's child eighteen months later. She was the first member of the royal family ever to be given the title "Queen of Ireland", before that it had simply been "Lady of Ireland". 

Fun fan video from the series The Tudors about the wives.

Me loves me some Shane Mack

Every now and then a great movie can introduce you to a great soundtrack and, from there, to a great new artist. That's what happened to me when I watched the 2007 movie Shelter, a beautifully-shot love story set in California about two young men, Zach, and his best friend's brother, Shaun. Shelter is short, sweet and it probably has two of the most brilliantly natural and "real" performances I've ever seen on screen. It has also has fantastic music.

The movie's soundtrack featured quite a few songs by the Texas-born singer-songwriter Shane Mack, including Lie to Me and More than this (a personal favezies.) Since watching Shelter, I've become a big Shane Mack fan and try to listen to some of his music when I'm sitting down to write Popular or really anything to do with Cameron or Blake. More than this is probably the one I've listened to the most.

Anyway, I strongly recommend an i-Tunes creep for Shane's music and having a look at the trailer for Shelter (below.) 

Also - have a great weekend!