The works were nationalised in 1967 as Ravenscraig, and Margaret Thatcher put an end to all that in 1992 when the factory was closed. We smoked a couple of joints. So Tim and I slept chastely in the hideously uncomfortable double sofa bed. I had to repeat everything, sometimes many times. I wouldnt be able to keep up. A good friend of mine and a former journalist of this parish editor of Weekend magazine 1993-98, and later a columnist she has left behind her a non-fiction book for the ages. Tributes have been paid to the Scottish journalist and author Deborah Orr, who has died aged 57. Orr said later that they had "had no idea how to promote co-operative working". (In top Ronseal style, it was called Sales Direction.) In 1997 Orr married writer Will Self, gravitating towards a man who seems to have repeated the behaviour and attitudes of her mother and her father, emptying her of self-respect. If you are dissatisfied with the response provided you can Orr writes that it was our heritage, part of us and made us part of the world. Id nodded, even though I didnt know what Oxbridge was. This time I went private. Deborah Orr on leaving home: 'My parents were the jailers I loved' In 1999 she moved to The Independent as a columnist, but returned to The Guardian in 2009, writing a column for the paper for nearly a decade. It was a world unto itself. Did I not understand what I had done? Orr the columnist adapted readily to social media, communicating frankly about bitter disputes as her marriage to Self crumbled. Shed sulk for days if you ate a meal out, as she interpreted this as criticism of her cooking, which in fact was terrible. The self-loathing of it. She is survived by her two sons, Ivan and Luther, from her marriage with fellow writer Will Self, as well as her stepchildren, Alexis and Madeleine. Motherwell and mother were always calling her back, but not longingly, and her unforgiving description of her relationship with both her parents makes for an uneasy read. By doing so, finishing the book not long before she died last October at the age of 57, she produced what I believe to be the best memoir to appear out of Scotland since 1935, the year of Edwin Muirs Scottish Journey. The best poems for funerals, memorial services., and cards. For a mother., We just think that your place is at home with us, until youre married. It was tribal. This obsession of mine, Win explained, had destroyed her ideas about what her life would be like. Win could be a fierce custodian of the family narrative and she often recoiled from her brilliant daughters efforts to change the story. In an extract from her posthumous memoir, the writer recalls her escape to university and how her mothers disapproval haunted her. Her childhood neighbourhood was rough but she found a safer world and civilization, as she recalled - within the cream sandstone Edwardian walls of the Motherwell Carnegie Library. There is a circular wall giving some dignity to the spot and making it one of the places that visitors or tourists, who do not flock there in their multitudes, should not miss. We'd run into each other in 2003 at a book party, when I was pregnant with my son, and she'd tearfully told my then partner, now husband, that he'd better look after me, or else: a bit rich, I remember thinking, given how vile she'd been when we were falling out.
deborah orr brother david