Some stories are more powerful than others. They have the ability to inspire, to motivate, to change lives…
I have one such story to tell. All you have to do is listen.
It is a story of determination. A story of hope.
Support me in telling my story.
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I was born in a Romani Gypsy community and spent the first 25-years of my life travelling the UK in a caravan. I began work at seven-years-old and had little formal education.
Things were tough at times but what I couldn’t accept was living a life I felt had been chosen for me.
After teaching myself to read using comic books in my teens, I went on to gain a university degree before becoming a writer for stage, screen and radio, and the founder and Artistic Director of the Romany Theatre Company. This is a memoir of my journey.
Dan Allum
Playwright, speaker, coach & creative writing tutor
Below are two samples from chapter one of A Road Of My Own. If you like what you read please support me on Patreon for weekly chapters and exclusive commentary.
I wake up with a jolt and realise there are rats on my bed. It is autumn 1972, I am 8 years old and my bed is a sheet, blanket and a couple of large coats thrown across the driver and passenger seat in the cab of my father’s truck.
We are camped on our five acre piece of land at Poore Street, near the tiny village of Arkesden, in Essex. The rural location is isolated, bleak and desolate and even though it is dark I can make out at least three rodent shapes scurrying around in the moonlight. I throw off the blanket and coats and press myself back hard against the door. There is no room in here and the doors are locked.
The vermin jump from bed to the floor and run in all directions. For a moment I am frozen, not sure what to do. Two of the rats chase each other in circles in the foot well, before skipping over my shoes and heading out through the hole in the gearstick guard. The rat that’s left is trapped in a corner. I watch its eyes shining in the dark. A second later it runs towards me. I try to move back but there is nowhere to go. I put my hand out to keep it away but it bites the tip of my middle finger. I yelp but not so loud that anyone outside can hear. The rat holds on with all its might for a second, then lets go and scurries under my trousers lying on the floor.
My bleeding finger starts to throb. Then I remember the hammer behind the seat...
The puppy is a present for my seventh birthday, a gift from Uncle Joey and Aunty Brenda. It is piebald brown and white, just a few weeks old. Its tiny heart beats gently beneath its soft downy skin. Immediately his heart and mine become one.
‘Dogs are filthy.’ Says Dad. ‘It’ll have to sleep outside.’
Animals are regarded as unhygienic in my community so where can I keep it? It is mid winter, a bitterly cold one. Then I remember the empty chicken shed near the bluebell wood. It has a dirt floor and wire-mesh windows but enough loose chicken feathers to keep my puppy warm.
I lay awake all night excited by this precious new life I am responsible for. When the freezing cold dawn breaks I lovingly heat up a dish of milk in the trailer.
‘Pup?’ I call out as I enter the shed. ‘I’ve brought you something warm.’
A few minutes later I find my puppy frozen to death at the mouth of a rabbit hole.
My world falls within me.
Shivering with cold and weeping I pick up my puppy – its body stiff as timber, its tiny heart is still as stone. I walk back to our trailer. Dad is waiting. I hold the puppy behind me.
‘What’re you hiding?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Show me.’
I reluctantly pull the frozen corpse from behind my back and offer it up to him, as if he can somehow bring it back to life.
‘Bury it.’ He says.
I weep again - deep retching sobs this time.
‘Tears are wasted on a dead thing.’ He explains. ‘The more you love a thing the more pain when you lose it. Best not love at all.’
I bury the puppy in the bluebell wood, and a part of myself along with it.
“…Daniel Allum has written a stunning scene that perfectly illuminates a childhood memory as a window into an adult man’s soul. An eight year old in a truck with rats! It’s almost primal in its power. The boy’s ingenuity, despite his fear, reveals so much character. In a film, this would be a key scene. In a memoir, it is a moment that must be explored as a way of telling a much bigger story.”
“…In this devastating childhood scene, your use of dialogue is really excellent. You insert just a few key spoken lines, letting them blend seamlessly into their context. The result is very powerful and instantly effective. Your own voice, as a child, is just a few words, calling out to your unnamed puppy. Your inner monologue is the crystal clear memory of this unforgettable, possibly life-changing moment in your life."
This is a deeply personal memoir. I am living proof that each of us has the capacity to achieve great success despite the obstacles that lay before us.
As a speaker, I challenge my audience to re-evaluate conventional thinking, beliefs, and perceived limitations and offers his own unique approach to peak performance and achievement. By combining creative thinking with optimum focus and a passionate desire to succeed, I show how it’s possible to unlock the infinite potential that lies within us all.
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