1 The death of my father

I was 11 years old when my father was killed in a car accident. It was the single most dramatic event of my life and changed our family forever.

I have very distinct memories of that day. It was a Saturday morning and I had been staying at my friend’s house. My younger brother came to bring me home, and when we arrived our four-year-old brother was running up and down in the living room singing, “Daddy’s been in a car crash!”.

No-one told me what had happened but then my grandparents arrived, crying. Shortly after that, I answered the door to a reporter and I was told to send them away. Then my uncle and aunt arrived, also crying. For the rest of the day I sat on my Grandma’s knee and cried. She said it was God’s will – I have never believed in God since.

Our family went from being happy and close, to being very sad and angry. I had three very boisterous brothers and my mother was pregnant with the fourth, who she had seven months after Dad’s death. My mother then became an alcoholic and I had to help with the baby and the boys.

2 Running away from home

I ran away from home when I was 16. I had already left school, a month before my 16th birthday. Life had become pretty unhappy at home, but I always loved to dance. My dancing partner at clubs and dances was my friend Norma, and we made the decision to run away to Glasgow.

This was the 1960s, there were always loads of bands playing in loads of venues, especially small clubs and church halls. We joined a band called the Hi Fi Combo from Irvine and danced at clubs like the Picasso Club in Glasgow.

Eventually the pirate radio station Radio Scotland took us on as their Clan Kittens at the Clan Balls, so we danced at the Locarno Ballroom, following on from Simon Dupree and the Big Sound.

It was all such good fun. We also went to London and auditioned at The 100 Club on Oxford Street. Following that we were offered work and a contract to tour American bases in Germany. Unfortunately by that time Norma as expecting a baby and I didn’t want to go without her, so it wasn’t to be.

3 The birth of my son

In August 1969 I gave birth to my darling son Kristian. He was and still is the light of my life. I was only 19 years old, so a young mother by today’s standards. I remember continually staring at him in his crib at the hospital and being amazed that I had managed to give birth to this wonderful, beautiful being and that he was totally reliant on me.

I had married Kristian’s father in the February of that year, but the marriage did not last. I brought my son up as a single parent, which is always tough but really was hard at that age in the 70s. I managed to get Kristian a place in full-time nursery, so I was able to go to college and take a secretarial course, which stood me in good stead.

It was when Kristian was about three years old that I realised he was slow at learning to talk. That’s how I discovered he was deaf, having lost his hearing when he had measles at nine months old. He was given hearing aids and has coped amazingly well. He has become an extremely talented freelance graphic designer who, of course, works with the family business at the Gilded Balloon.

4 My love of Norway

My mother and father were both Norwegian. My father’s parents moved to Scotland in 1922, when my grandfather, on his way home from captaining his ship, bought a ship chandler’s in Leith. My mother came over after the war. They married and honeymooned at the family summer cottage – a log cabin at the edge of a fjord – which was finished in the summer of 1946. I have spent every summer of my life there and it wasn’t until my later years I realised how precious it is to me.

It is beautiful and so far away from the pressures of daily life – it has become my refuge. I love it and spend as much time there as I can – which is still not enough.

5 The death of my mother

My mother died in December 1984. It was throat cancer, a horrific illness and really not a pleasant way to go. It started in the May of that year, when I visited her and it was clear she had a huge lump on the side of her throat. I went to the hospital with her, but she decided that she wouldn’t speak with the consultant, she wanted me to take responsibility for dealing with him.

He told me that she had six months to live. She managed to stay with us until the middle of December.

We spent the last six months of her life together, and during that time I made an effort to learn as much about her – and also to be as close to her as I could. We had had such a rocky relationship while I was growing up, but I wanted to feel close to her to the end.

I looked after her as much as she would allow, and at the end I sat by her bed holding her hand until she slipped away.

6 The Gilded Balloon

The year after my mother died, I started a cabaret club called McNally’s, and that’s where I started booking comedians.

The following year I was asked to present some shows at the 369 Gallery, next door to the Gilded Balloon Bar and Restaurant in the Cowgate, so the Gilded Balloon Theatre started there in August 1986, with seven shows a day.

I started with no capital and grew to 14 venues in and around the Cowgate, with 150 shows a day over the month of August. I started a show called Late’n’Live, which became the go-to show for comedians, and where the stand-ups of the day would perform and learn their craft. In 1988, I devised ‘So You Think You’re Funny?’ to discover new comic talent, which is now the most influential comedy newcomer competition of its kind in the UK. The pedigree of the competition is reflected in the list of past finalists and winners: Lee Mack, Dylan Moran, Sarah Millican, Tommy Tiernan, Peter Kay, Johnny Vegas, Jimmy Carr, Russell Howard and Aisling Bea to name a few.

I also ventured abroad to look for new talent and in 2005 saw a young man called Tim Minchin at the Melbourne comedy festival. I brought him over for the 2006 Fringe and backed his show, which introduced him to the UK and won him the Perrier Comedy Award.

7 The birth of my daughter

I gave birth to my wonderful daughter Katy in January 1988. I made the decision to bring up my daughter on my own, and told the father that I was happy to go it alone. We were not in a relationship but had been close for a short period of time. I was absolutely delighted when Katy was born, I had been around boys all my life and I was ecstatic that I actually had a little girl.

She was also the happiest child I have ever known – always laughing having a great time. This all completely stopped by the time she reached puberty when she changed into a grumpy, sullen teenager. The doom and gloom was overwhelming. I am glad to say that once she reached university, she matured into a wonderful, intelligent human being. I’m delighted that she is now my partner in the Gilded Balloon and is doing a brilliant job.

8 Moving to my current home

I was lucky enough to get on to the property ladder early on in my life. I’ve had five different homes before finding this small, semi-detached 1930s bungalow that’s 15 minutes from the centre of Edinburgh. It has the most delightful city views, with the castle at the centre of that distinctive Edinburgh skyline.

Over more than 20 years, I’ve changed the house out of all recognition, from knocking down a wall, taking down the chimney, making a two-bedroom and bathroom loft extension, changing the tiny kitchen into a hallway and adding a huge kitchen extension with balcony to enjoy the view. It has been worth it.

9 The Gilded Balloon fire

In December 2002 the Gilded Balloon went up in flames. It was the biggest fire in Edinburgh’s living memory, destroying more than 11 businesses and a complete tragedy for the Gilded Balloon – it had been there for 17 years.

The fire happened on the day my second grandchild was born in Kirkcaldy. I was at the hospital when a call came from my general manager saying a fire had broken out next door to our bar, The Gilded Saloon. He didn’t think it was serious, but by the time I got home there had been four fire engines outside the building and the fire had spread. I never dreamed that I would never enter that building again. It was deemed unsafe so I couldn’t save anything left inside. Within a week the whole building collapsed.

I was lucky that we had moved part of the Gilded Balloon to Teviot Row House the year before, otherwise the business would have folded. There were messages from all over the world supporting us and some of my staff organised benefit shows in London and Edinburgh, where comedians performed to raise money for us.

The Gilded Balloon grew into 22 venues across the Fringe with more than 220 shows per day.

10 Cancer and Coronavirus

In 2017 I was diagnosed with breast cancer – it came as a huge shock, as I had always thought I was invincible. I went through two operations to remove the cancer, then had chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and all that entails. I was very lucky.

I was 70 this year and because of my cancer I had to go into self-isolation due to the coronavirus. I had no intention of retiring, however this lock down has pushed me into a forced retirement.

I have never lived through anything like this before and hope to never again. One thing is for sure nothing will ever be the same again but there will be a new normal and I look forward to presenting live theatre and entertainment again in the future.