4.5 Stars!
“People often say that football and boxing are the way out of the working class and they are your ticket out of that kind of life, if you happen to want to leave it. But, for me, the library is the key. That is where the escape tunnel is. All of the knowledge in the world is there. The great brains of the world at your fingertips.”
I remember reading “Billy” nearly twenty years ago and enjoying that, but this has a lot more humour, depth and immediacy. Stephenson’s account came across as too detached and almost academic whereas this seems to have the voice of Billy more clearly and I felt like I could really identify and relate to this is a more meaningful way.
This is a memoir filled with cracking stories, veering between the random, dark and funny. Little nuggets like apparently he used to deliver milk to Mark Knopfler’s childhood home in Bearsden. We also hear of how he came to meet fellow rising Scottish actors and writers such as Tony Roper and Richard Wilson as he was making his way. Obviously some of the details and anecdotes have been covered before in his previous biographies and the biography of his wife too and even in his stand up material. But they are told with such warmth, eloquence and humour, that they still come across fresh and vibrant. There is also plenty of darkness in here too, as he and his long term friends dwell on their declining health and the people they have lost along the way.
Like his stand up where he has always been partial to a digression or two, he has some interludes in between the chapters, which include his love of reading and a short, yet fairly detailed list of recommendations. Insisting that, “But there’s no right way to read. You are not studying for an exam. The important thing is that books do you good. They improve your life, and the lives of the people around you. They improve you.” He also covers some other topics such as the Dalbeattie Men’s Shed and his long term friendship with the artist and writer John Byrne. There are some great photos in here too, in colour and black and white.
He recalls coming up through the emerging Scottish folk scene, where he met and played with people like Matt McGinn and Danny Kyle, in venues such as the Attic Folk Club in Paisley, where he first stumbled into stand up after forgetting the lines to a song he was singing. It was also in Paisley where he met Gerry Rafferty, after playing a gig at the Orange Halls, where Rafferty would go onto join him in The Humblebums.
“I used to think the royal family were a complete load of nonsense, until they started giving me things.” So reads the caption under the photo of him with the medal he got from the royals. In one sense I find it hugely disappointing and puzzling why someone from his background who idolises the likes of socialist, and trade union activist Jimmy Reid, would chose to accept honours from the royal family. Alex Ferguson being another example. I just can’t get my head round that, but I understand that people change, and maybe I would think differently when I am in my 60s or 70s, but I doubt it. Either way no one sums it up better than The Proclaimers in their song “In Recognition” which captures it perfectly.
That minor gripe aside, this was a hugely enjoyable read and it shows that Connolly, in spite of his much reported medical condition, still retains an incredibly sharp and witty intellect and is very much on the ball. He also remains a wise and entertaining man well into his mid-seventies. As the man says, “I didnae come from nothing: I come from Scotland. And this book is about why I will always be happy and proud that I do.”