I've just had a long appointment with a doctor who wishes to increase my medical care since my diagnosis of borderline diabetes, and the doctor thought that I could manage this forthcoming August tour providing I self-manage my improved diet, exercise and lose a little weight. He knows about the domestic violence I went through and my poor darling, young Peggy. She has been seeing a counsellor and so have I, but the violence I went through had put me in a wheelchair.

Up to last February long after my ex got divorced, my physical state was improving until early March when cellulitis and a nasty chest infection put me in hospital. Five weeks of antibiotics and oral steroids brought me very low, but now I'm off all the meds and getting well again. My personal trainer has been making me exercise, and my doctor helped improved my diet, so altogether I've improved remarkably well though insomnia remains a problem.

I have yet to make a decision about the August tour, but am pretty sure I will be able to do the concerts. It was a long time ago when I dabbled with prodigious amounts of cocaine and 'chemicals'. Just thinking back to the state of what I was is enough to make me cringe, but the overall problem wasn't my band members at all. I was me, their leader. Since we disbanded they went back to being session musicians and dear Jon our drummer and percussionist had a son, but they are only too happy to have these gigs. If only I can get physically fit again.

Looking back... stage fright got me badly, and morphing into the character I was expected to be when onstage was what caused the addictions. Endless touring for months on end, the pressure to paint a smile on my face while singing - does anyone remember David Cassidy? Mother knew him well. He went through the same horrors of being well known, a pop idol having to deal with screaming fans and parties he shunned. I was just like the poor guy. But I also had a terrible fear of heights.

I remember doing a performance at the Stade de France and being winched down from 12 metres to land onstage exactly within 43 seconds into Alan Morris' Made of Light. I was wearing a pair of pink heart-shaped wings and only lost that fright because of being pilled to the eyelids. But the thought of stepping off the gantry high up into a dark void and floating down terrorised me. I managed it okay, amazingly holding my nerve and not squeeling... I remember another concert in the Netherlands where I started crying mid-song, but being encouraged by a girl fan up in the front. " Be yourself, Belle - you're beautiful anyway!" and the girls and their boyfriends sang along with me. Good times for sure, but there were frightening times too.

Now all those days are gone; the memories remain though, overshadowed by what my ex caused, the physical damage done to me... and quite frankly I don't know how I survived. At home my housekeeper looked after little Peggy, but with these forthcoming gigs in 4 month's tiume, my daughter and family will be present, because it's one of my stipulations of agreeing to the gigs. I want them in the VIP area. Better still, I want our lovely Peggy shredding on her vintage Gibson Les Paul I gave for her 13th birthday. Bless her, Peg would love that!

I feel ever so grateful for the wonderful encouragement all of you have given on my thread. I wasn't expecting this! How very lovely you are.. ... all of you! Thank you. Thank you so much!



Tribute to Alan Morris, Made of Light sung by Jess Morgan.