Kenny Campbell Dot Com

Once upon a time ...

I was born to a working class Catholic family in Scotland in 1970, and brought up in my home town of Wishaw, in Lanarkshire, Scotland. Wishaw is famous for the UK's worst outbreak of e-coli food poisoning, originating, rather unfortunately, from the town's best butcher. It is also home to a Barr's Irn Bru factory, and the King's Sweets factory, the most famous output of that being oddfellows. Although Wishaw seems capable of producing odd fellow quite without the need for a factory, as my very existence proves on a daily basis.

However, when I came screaming into the world at some ungodly hour of the morning, such events lay far in the future.

Obviously, I'm not going to add details like the place I was born, my father's maiden name, or my date of birth, because would-be identity thieves would be rubbing their hands with glee at that. In fact, I might even have to put in some false information just in case. I have a birthmark on my left ankle in the shape of a standard lamp, and my favourite fabric is gingham.

However, when I came screaming into the world at some ungodly hour of the morning, such fibs lay far in the future.

I remember that when I was a child, I could remember things that happened to me when I was child (which I was at the time). It isn't so easy now. It's sad to think that for all the education I've had, my memory has obviously deteriorated over the years, since I can no longer remember simple things like what this sentence was going to be about. In fact, I spent between 18 and 20 years in formal education. When I was 30, that represented 2/3 of my life. When I'm 40, it will be about 1/2 my life. By the time I'm 80, it will be 1/4 of my life. The older I get, the less educated I become.

I have few recollections of what happened before school (I mean before I started school rather than what I did before school every morning). Fleeting images of doing a wet fart in a kilt when I was a page boy at my godfather's wedding; a big sleep-over party at my paternal grandmother's house at New Year which ended with bloodstains on a door handle; and long walks down Jacob's Ladder or the Clydeside. My memories of primary school (St. Thomas', Wishaw) revolve largely around performing in the choir, reciting poetry, being an alter boy, Mrs. O'Donnell, my favourite teacher, and frequent trips to Wishaw library.

After expressing an early interest in joining the Catholic priesthood, I left primary school at the age of 11, and went to study in Blairs College, or to give it it's full title, St. Mary's College, Blairs.