Carol Ann Duffy - Early Life

Early Life

Carol Ann Duffy was born to a Roman Catholic family in the Gorbals, a very poor part of Glasgow, the first child of Frank Duffy, an electrical fitter, and Mary Black. The couple went on to have another four children, all boys, the family moving to Stafford, England, when Duffy was six years old. Her father worked for English Electric. He was also a trade unionist, and stood unsuccessfully as a parliamentary candidate for the Labour Party in 1983; he also managed Stafford Rangers football club in his spare time. Duffy was educated in Stafford at Saint Austin's RC Primary School (1962–1967), St. Joseph's Convent School (1967–1970), and Stafford Girls' High School (1970–1974), her literary talent encouraged by two English teachers, June Scriven at St Joseph's, and Jim Walker at Stafford Girls' High. She was a passionate reader from an early age, and always wanted to be a writer, producing poems from the age of 11. When one of her English teachers died, she wrote: "You sat on your desk,/ swinging your legs, reading a poem by Yeats/ to the bored girls, except my heart stumbled and blushed/ as it fell in love with the words and I saw the tree/ in the scratched old desk under my hands, heard the bird in the oak outside scribble itself on the air."

Read more about this topic:  Carol Ann Duffy

Famous quotes containing the words early and/or life:

    “Love is the hardest thing in the world to write about. So simple. You’ve got to catch it through details, like the early morning sunlight hitting the gray tin of the rain spout in front of her house. The ringing of a telephone that sounds like Beethoven’s “Pastoral.” A letter scribbled on her office stationery that you carry around in your pocket because it smells of all the lilacs in Ohio.”
    —Billy Wilder (b. 1906)

    ““Maman”, said Annaïse, her voice strangely weak. “Here is the water.”
    A thin blade of silver came forward in the plain and the peasants ran alongside it, crying and singing.
    ...
    “Oh, Manuel, Manuel, why are you dead?” moaned Délira.
    “No”, said Annaïse, and she smiled through her tears, “no, he is not dead”.
    She took the old woman’s hand and pressed gently against her belly where new life stirred.”
    —Jacques Roumain (1907–1945)