Anything Goes: The Autobiography by John Barrowman, Carole E. Barrowman

By John Barrowman, Carole E. Barrowman

From his Glaswegian formative years and American early life to his starring function within the health practitioner Who by-product Torchwood, this memoir lines the existence and occupation of actor John Barrowman. John made a reputation for himself with impressive West finish achievements, together with an Olivier Award nomination and good fortune within the video clips The manufacturers and De-Lovely. tv good fortune was once additionally guaranteed whilst Torchwood gained a most sensible Drama BAFTA. John additionally lays naked his own lifestyles: his emigration as a toddler, popping out to his family members, turning down a role at Disney, and his civil partnership with long term associate Scott Gill. Revelatory and insightful, advised with genuine center and attribute Barrowman attraction, this can be a fabulous story of ways one boy accomplished his dreams.

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Extra resources for Anything Goes: The Autobiography

Sample text

I continued to do so without any thought of achieving satisfac­ tion, until the age of twenty-eight. It was a pastime, it reassured me. I smelled my fingers, I breathed in the extract of my being, to which I attached no value. Aime Patureau, a boy of seventeen with a pretty round face, with sandy puttees round his calves, hurt his foot. The wound became infected, he stayed at home, he lifted his window curtain and called me. Seeing him alone in his parents' house while they were out working, seeing his leg stretched out on a chair in the silence of the dining room rendered me speechless.

One Sunday morn­ ing in winter my mother was not in our bed when I got up. I shov­ eled the ashes out of the stove, I heard two people laughing on the ground floor, in the room where Fideline had died : one of them was my mother, the other was Juliette, a former cook. She often came to see my mother. They would talk about my mother's seducer, about his parents, about his home, where they had been in service together. The wall of Juliette's cafe was next to the main gate of their garden. The barman did odd jobs for the family.

Why, tell me why ? Was I as much of an encumbrance as all that ? I don'L remember my mother leaving ( IJ me in the establishment and thank heaven for that privilege. I do remember my grief, my stamping on the tiled floor after she had gone. Screams, tears, groans, those days were to be an icy compress, always too heavy and too cold. The headmistress was afraid I would go into convulsions; she sent a telegram and my mother took me back home. She once gave me her photographs of him. It is a strange moment when you gaze questioningly at an unknown figure in a picture and the picture, the unknown figure, is your nerves, your joints, your spinal column.

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