Gary Kemp: We never say ‘supper’ in our house. That’s the language of the nursery and nanny — theguardian.com

My earliest memory is of pouring a tin of Lyle’s Golden Syrup over my baby brother Martin’s face, as he lay in his cot. Then I poured a bag of sugar on top of the syrup. I could have killed him and that was probably my intention. There were elements both of jealousy and experimentation. I remember the little bubbles as he tried to breathe through it. Then Mum walked in and went crazy. As a young kid I’d go to the butcher with Mum and she’d buy sausages. I’d always ask for one to eat raw – and she’d let me, as a treat. Meanwhile, she believed she had to boil vegetables for hours or we’d get worms.

Read More