Source(google.com.pk)
How To Have a Baby Girl Biography
On March 27, 1988, I was born on the floor, somewhere between my parents’ bed and the bedside table, at home in Seven Kings, Essex. I had the umbilical cord around my neck, so I was really purple when I came out.
My sisters, Hannah and Rachel, were both there – it was a full-on family experience – and I was named Jessica Ellen Cornish. To be honest, there’s no real reason for the ‘J’ in my stage name (I always feel like I disappoint people when I say that).
I had a happy, adventurous childhood – running around in the rain, stage school, sleepovers, and camping in the garden to ‘toughen us up’. My dad would take me and my sisters swimming, and we would go to Wimpy afterwards for chips and milkshakes. We’d go to Corfu or Majorca once every five years, maybe, but we’d go to Cornwall each year and stay in a caravan.
I was around seven years old that day in Epping Forest with my dad. He realised it was serious, so he picked me up and we drove to the hospital. I was afraid and confused. When you’re fine and then all of a sudden something like that happens and you don’t know why, it can be terrifying.
Early days: Jessie as a secondary school pupil
My dad has a heart condition, Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, so he was always great at explaining what it was I was feeling when I first started to experience it. Like him, I have an irregular heartbeat.
The worst thing when you’ve got a heart problem is having to do running tests with only a bra on when you’re just starting puberty. When you’re young and there are loads of doctors poking you and prodding you, embarrassment overtakes fear.
There were times when it was painful though. For a lot of my childhood I was on beta-blockers (drugs which try to help your heart get into a proper rhythm). But the side effects meant I had low blood pressure. I remember collapsing a lot and having seizures. I was a sickly, skinny girl who had a slight green tinge to her skin because of the drugs and who was always in and out of hospital.
There would be times when I’d be acting normal and then I’d just collapse. It was only then that people would realise I wasn’t well. I suppose I was good at covering it up and I know I’m very good at that now.
Though I was in hospital often, I was always around kids who were way sicker than I was. Luckily, I suppose, I was never in long enough to have to make a life in hospital, to make friends and go to school there.
I wrote Big White Room about a time when I was 11 years old and in Great Ormond Street Hospital opposite a boy about the same age. I remember waking up in the night and hearing him pray because he was having a heart transplant the next day.
It was the first time I’d really seen prayer or religion so close up and actually seen someone asking for his life to be saved. He was on his knees, with all these wires hanging out of him, praying. He passed away the next day. Every time I sing the song, in my head I dedicate it to that boy.
At stage school I hung out with Adele - at lunch we'd have a little jam together
While most kids at primary school were fine with me, there were some who were horrible. My skin was green and I looked ill: I had sunken eyes and big teeth and a massive fringe.
My ponytail was about four strands of hair. Sad times.
There was a handful of kids who were mean. Bullying became something I needed to write a song about. Who’s Laughing Now was honest: kids really did pull my chair out from under me, they did throw stones at my head. The bullying was never horrific; I’ve never been beaten up, for instance. Sometimes the words hurt more than the bruises.
But I had the most amazing mum and dad and family I could go home to. Not every kid does.
I went to Mayfield Secondary School, down the road from our house. Both my sisters were head girl. But certain things don’t soak into my brain. I’m intelligent, but I’m not academic. I’m not someone who can work out massive sums. I remember I got four per cent in my geography exam, and to this day I struggle to find London on the weather map.
I didn’t sing in secondary school because I didn’t feel supported by the school – which is why I guess I have never been invited back.
How To Have a Baby Girl Biography
On March 27, 1988, I was born on the floor, somewhere between my parents’ bed and the bedside table, at home in Seven Kings, Essex. I had the umbilical cord around my neck, so I was really purple when I came out.
My sisters, Hannah and Rachel, were both there – it was a full-on family experience – and I was named Jessica Ellen Cornish. To be honest, there’s no real reason for the ‘J’ in my stage name (I always feel like I disappoint people when I say that).
I had a happy, adventurous childhood – running around in the rain, stage school, sleepovers, and camping in the garden to ‘toughen us up’. My dad would take me and my sisters swimming, and we would go to Wimpy afterwards for chips and milkshakes. We’d go to Corfu or Majorca once every five years, maybe, but we’d go to Cornwall each year and stay in a caravan.
I was around seven years old that day in Epping Forest with my dad. He realised it was serious, so he picked me up and we drove to the hospital. I was afraid and confused. When you’re fine and then all of a sudden something like that happens and you don’t know why, it can be terrifying.
Early days: Jessie as a secondary school pupil
My dad has a heart condition, Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, so he was always great at explaining what it was I was feeling when I first started to experience it. Like him, I have an irregular heartbeat.
The worst thing when you’ve got a heart problem is having to do running tests with only a bra on when you’re just starting puberty. When you’re young and there are loads of doctors poking you and prodding you, embarrassment overtakes fear.
There were times when it was painful though. For a lot of my childhood I was on beta-blockers (drugs which try to help your heart get into a proper rhythm). But the side effects meant I had low blood pressure. I remember collapsing a lot and having seizures. I was a sickly, skinny girl who had a slight green tinge to her skin because of the drugs and who was always in and out of hospital.
There would be times when I’d be acting normal and then I’d just collapse. It was only then that people would realise I wasn’t well. I suppose I was good at covering it up and I know I’m very good at that now.
Though I was in hospital often, I was always around kids who were way sicker than I was. Luckily, I suppose, I was never in long enough to have to make a life in hospital, to make friends and go to school there.
I wrote Big White Room about a time when I was 11 years old and in Great Ormond Street Hospital opposite a boy about the same age. I remember waking up in the night and hearing him pray because he was having a heart transplant the next day.
It was the first time I’d really seen prayer or religion so close up and actually seen someone asking for his life to be saved. He was on his knees, with all these wires hanging out of him, praying. He passed away the next day. Every time I sing the song, in my head I dedicate it to that boy.
At stage school I hung out with Adele - at lunch we'd have a little jam together
While most kids at primary school were fine with me, there were some who were horrible. My skin was green and I looked ill: I had sunken eyes and big teeth and a massive fringe.
My ponytail was about four strands of hair. Sad times.
There was a handful of kids who were mean. Bullying became something I needed to write a song about. Who’s Laughing Now was honest: kids really did pull my chair out from under me, they did throw stones at my head. The bullying was never horrific; I’ve never been beaten up, for instance. Sometimes the words hurt more than the bruises.
But I had the most amazing mum and dad and family I could go home to. Not every kid does.
I went to Mayfield Secondary School, down the road from our house. Both my sisters were head girl. But certain things don’t soak into my brain. I’m intelligent, but I’m not academic. I’m not someone who can work out massive sums. I remember I got four per cent in my geography exam, and to this day I struggle to find London on the weather map.
I didn’t sing in secondary school because I didn’t feel supported by the school – which is why I guess I have never been invited back.
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
How To Have a Baby Girl
No comments:
Post a Comment