Madame de Marly

As we say goodbye to the Marlborough Pub & Theatre after 12 years and pass it on to new management, we asked writer, agitator and former resident Kuchenga to reflect on her time there…

Even in my dreams, it’s over. For a year and a half I was able to say “I live above The Marlborough”. I told people I met regularly and relatively soon into knowing them. This felt deliciously irresponsible. In making my lived whereabouts known to a wide range of people I was making myself huntable. From my third floor bedroom window I hoped to be serenaded by a passionate lover or howled at by some lunatic who could satisfy my desire to ‘live for drama’. All stories deserve a little romance. Mine tend to have a lot.

“I was only meant to stay for a week…” Clouds invade the screen and I arrive on a rainy Sunday night exhausted from my birthday celebrations in Hackney. I was returning to the city I went to university in and in doing so choosing to feel young again. The meaning of being ‘fresh faced’ changed as my dysphoria dissipated. I could now allow myself to be seen in most probably the safest place in the nation to be visibly and vocally trans. I indulged. I got so much help. I asked over a thousand favours and in having them fulfilled, I was lifted up. I cried often, but rarely alone. I had a desk in my bedroom but mostly wrote in the kitchen. When I was really in need of focus I colonised someone’s desk in the office. I worked on my novel. I wrote for Vogue several times. I became ‘Mother’. In managing the flat upstairs, I created a home from home for queer and trans folks welcoming them from as far away as Australia and Indonesia and as close by as Leeds and South London. I swafted from room to room in my cheap lingerie making beds and ensuring living spaces were clean and fragrant. My bedroom was a lair where many many men were welcomed with love. I celebrated with earth rumbling orgasms. I was a writer in full bloom – caught up in the rapture of life and love.

My ambitions, snarling away inside me begat bigger visions which revealed to me that my time at The Marly was now done with. I shan’t ever forget how easy it was to ask for a long textured hug. The easy smiles and clear eye contact that come from someone who is really listening to you. The trans kids of generation z in the street below swilling ciders and brimming with rich plans and full promises. Clouds retreat from the screen. I put my pen down. The light fades into…

Kuchenga is a journalist and writer
@kuchengcheng