The best day of my life...

And it came to pass on the 5th day of July 1957 a child was born to a clap of thunder and flash of lightning. I came at the end of a blistering heat wave enough to make my Mum, for some insane reason, go rowing the day before; much to the horror of the midwife who turned up expecting to be delivering! And the baby’s names was – Gail Stella Cohen – I truly do not have a messiah complex!

Born to Lola and Norman and joining my elder sister Stephanie. My sister & I were very different from birth - looks, attitudes, behaviour – she was the quiet, graceful one, I was the noisy, lively, klutz! She was fair, I was dark; I was a genius, she… OK I made that bit up! My coming into the world knocked her off pole position – this little red faced, round, black haired, sweet ball. She took one look at me and basically shook her head – surplus to requirements/not what I ordered - please return. We were not close! I was permanently in trouble, the bad child – she was usually involved!

When I was 3 or 4 she drew on her favourite doll Nina’s face with black pen and blamed me! At my first day of my new school, a bit lost I went to find my big sister and sat on the side of a wall, which happened to be a coal bunker, she pushed me in – still not quite sure why. When I was a teenager she used to bribe me with consulate menthol cigarettes to keep quiet when her boyfriend Neville came round (he lived next door) and then tell my parents I was smoking – just weird! Just before I got married, we had a huge row – and somehow a knife got involved - luckily she missed (I hope to god she never reads this). Despite all this, all I ever wanted was for my sister to be my friend, like me – even love me!

Leaving school – way hay fucking fantastic – first pupil ever allowed to leave early – wonder why? I escaped and almost immediately, went on a 3-month (stayed a year) volunteering trip to a kibbutz in Israel, 17 year old me – talk about spoilt for choice, like being let loose in a candy store, can you imagine? From boarding school to utter freedom and the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my life – arrived a virgin left a complete tart!!! I shagged my way round South America, not literally, there were a group of new young immigrants from Uruguay, Argentina, Bolivia, Chile – not sure which country came top of the sex polls – best day of my life no? Losing my virginity a fucking relief.

So many people regard their wedding day as the best day of their lives. You’ve guessed it – not me. I did try it twice just in case. Wedding 1: Warwick registry office: parental disapproval, small affair, wedding outfit my 21st birthday present (lucky me) – a friend recently pointed out I looked like I was going to an interview - well look at the guy I married – it was the 70’s ! Best bit was Freda my extremely elegant and glamorous grandmother, who loved her gin, coming up to the top table with crossed legs hysterically laughing, telling me she had just peed herself.

I knew on the way, when I sat in the back as my parents drove me in their blinding lime green Saab, not even talking to me (my father still not happy with me marrying a non-Jewish lorry driver, 10 years older than me from Blackpool, with two kids, not much younger than me) that I shouldn’t be doing this! But of course I did.

Wedding 2: better outfit – very glamorous Donna Karen – got married at Finsbury Registry Office Clerkenwell, married by a very cool woman, who couldn’t say husband number 2’s name, ‘Rosenberg’ and for some reason, I couldn’t either as I signed the register with my previously married name Ingram! Not a good omen. The party was back at my place in Islington , beautiful food, alas my friends’ kids decided to spray it with very strong Armani perfume. So, we drank oodles of champagne, husband went into an alcoholic stupor and remained that way for the three weeks, before he vanished one day never to return. Turns out he didn’t like women much – preferred his boyfriend!

Ooh, here’s another one, along with many others my teenage obsession, adult crush and deep and only love for a ‘pop star’, was, of course David Bowie. No-one wanted to share a room with me at school because of the life size poster from melody maker I had on the ceiling. I was invited to the art exhibition opening of Bowie’s New Afro Pagan and Work 1975-1995 in Cork St. I can still remember David & Iman making their entrance, a golden halo shone around them, they were magnificent. It was one of those freaky moments , the place was packed, but suddenly the crowds parted and it’s me and him. ‘Hello’ he says, ‘I’m David, pleased to meet you’ - ‘Hi I’m Gail’ starting to blabber ‘Your work looks great but I can’t see much’. He then crouches down to my level and says ‘ Christ, I’m surprised you can see anything down there, aren’t you short’ laughing. He was then of course led away – but not before he pecked me on the cheek and squeezed my hand. I love you David – yes, another great moment of my life.

The best moment of my life without doubt, 100% was the moment when I held my beautiful daughter (not related to husband 1 or 2 but let’s save that story for another time) – the unconditional agonising love that just grew and grew during the 9 months and exploded with a drum roll, fan-fare, tears and the biggest connection I have ever felt in the whole of my life. But the best day of my life – fuck no. 24 hours of labours, push, push, baby’s heads crowning – oh we can’t turn her, let’s try forceps - head looking wrong way. Not dilated enough – caesarean – ‘please don’t cut me, I can still feel, don’t let them cut me’. Turns out the epidural had fallen out my back – long story short, due to the extraordinarily long time she took to come out, she was born 8 minutes past midnight on January 21 an Aquarian not a Capricorn, best result (sorry Capricorns). 2 weeks later they let us go, going home is indeed in the running for one of the best days of my life!

My big sister, yes, the one that pushed me into the coal bunker, Little Miss Perfect, didn’t like her little sister much for about 50 plus years in fact. And then a miracle happened. About 3 years ago, after a period of distance (my choice), we bonded, bonded over our aged parents. We grew up, we accepted each other, differences and all. When I got a fb message sent to her best friends, I was one, my sister and I are friends. She is one of my best friends, my confidante. With a 98 year old Dad and a 89 year old Mum we will soon be the only Cohen family remaining. The best day of my life was when my sister Stephanie told me she loved me!