seaside serenity in snow, lucy bronze

chapter 1

The journey of Morgan's story starts from every part of the working-class category corner that you can imagine - the northeastern part of England. The neighbourhood of Chirton was a blend of toughness and tenacity. Also known for its notorious dangerous status in Tynemouth, poverty reaches its peaks but the community feeling in everyone never fades. Chirton was a place where every corner told a story of overcoming odds, of faces creased with the lines of resilience or anything that was work or football-related. In Chirton, unity is not just a word – it's a way of life. The playground becomes a meeting ground where kids from different homes form bonds that defy boundaries. This was the backdrop against which Morgan's tale unfolded.

In the heart of that tight-knit community, the tapestry of Morgan's childhood was woven with threads of vibrant camaraderie and the steadfastness of struggle. Each day unfolded against a backdrop of resilience, where every challenge met an unwavering determination to overcome it. In the midst of this symphony of life, her family stood as the pillars that held up their world.

The childhood was painted with vibrant hues of struggle. She grew up in a home where the kitchen table was a stage for dreams and worries alike. With its worn surface and chipped edges, it bore the marks of countless conversations, laughter and shared meals. It was here that Morgan's father would return after days away, his stories of his travels mingling with the aroma of a home-cooked meal, made of discounted food products or given by neighbours who knew that the Yorks were struggling. Her family, a tight crew of five – mum Holly, dad Peter, herself and her two younger brothers, Finn and Jack – stood together in the face of financial storms that would have blown many others apart.

Morgan's parents were a study in contrast, yet their love was the glue that bound them together. Her mother, Holly, a woman with a heart that seemed to hold the weight of the world, navigated their journey with an unbreakable spirit. There was a gentle grace to her, an understanding that life's trials were not meant to define them. She was a storyteller of resilience and her love for her family was the thread that wove their tapestry. Even though her struggle could be felt and seen, she was very good at showing off fake notions of it. All she wanted was good and safety for her children and to make sure that everyone around her was fed and had a roof above their heads. She was the one who always believed that Morgan would become someone known or have the job that would others, if not her own family, to be proud of something they love to do. Be it, for example, singing, dancing, playing football, writing - anything you can think of! She wanted Morgan, Finn and Jack to have some sort of socialisation when they were little - Holly took them to Chirton's local social club where old white men behind the pub and desks were drinking multiple glasses of lager or any sort of pint, mums and other old ladies were either chatting, knitting, playing chess or some sort of table games to spend the dead time away. And of course, there was no lack of young children running around and going on the stage or behind the classical piano to hit some keys, without knowing any songs to play. Finn was interested in music, whereas Jack was the sneaky shit in the family - meaning he would steal shillings and pennies off from the old men whilst talking shite with them. Morgan could not give a single fuck about Jack's silly activities as she was more keen on hitting the football against the wooden wall. 

And then there was Morgan's father, Peter, a man shaped by choices that carried a heavy price. His hands bore the calluses of a life spent working tirelessly, his eyes held the weight of the decisions he made to provide for his family. His vowed passion for labour started to fade away when Thatcher's government took over the country and cut down the true statue of the northeastern side of the country. It was a kick below the belt for every working man and woman in the county. His love was fierce, his absence a testament to the sacrifices he was willing to make. He dreamed of a different life for his children, one where they would not have to face the same challenges he did. But truth be told, his sacrifices and worries would tear his mental health down which he hated showing out as it would make him more anxious to provide bread and love to his three children. He was like any other Geordie man who was afraid to show any emotion or feeling towards anything they loved, most of the time showing off his stern and angry side which he later regretted. He also has admitted that later in his life his children have already grown up and gone their own ways.