Last week I was feeling unwell, I had a severe problem with walking the duty doctor came and made sure I wasn’t or did not have something more serious, which it wasn’t but also couldn’t help me because I live on the full amount of painkillers, leg removal if offered I would have jumped at the chance, but knowing my luck I would be left with phantom pain!!!
Anyway I forgot it was my mother’s birthday, so on Facebook my sister asks if I sent mother a card I said no, she asks why not, I replied I was in pain and still am in pain. She relays to my mother who texts me asking me what was wrong with me and why I don’t talk to her like I used to and wanted to know what she has done to me for me to have a ‘cob on’ (forgive me I have never used that phrase before and only used it in the context of this blog).
I thought about saying ” Where would you like me to start, let us start with calling your six year old grandson a half breeb because I married someone from Scotlan or forgetting your two great granddaughter who you say you love so much but cannot be bothered to send a birthday card, yet your other great grandchildren, grandchildren, nephews and nieces and those that my brothers other children he has forgot about.
So yes you never got a card, deal with it.
So let’s fast forward to today, the day of my step fathers birthday, on Saturday i wrote a card I hand made, wrote something nice inside, correct address and put a 1st class stamp and posted it, today is the day the card should arrive, 1st class the weekend i would expected it too.
So no text from my mother saying “Thank you for your father’s card” so I guess he didn’t get it or I dreamt I posted it which I often have these strange daytime dreams about doing stuff but then I realised I hadn’t and it’s so fecked up its scary, I have been told it’s part of my condition, non fitting epilepsy, I think that name is made up because they don’t know what it is like sometimes when my head is foggy I have so much deja vue (I think i have spelt that right, never any good at French, even my French teacher hated me)
I digress a little, well it makes for entertainment if anything
So no text blah blah blah, then my brothers girlfriend gives birth, today now you would think it is a great family occasion, but guess who has to learn of the joyous event from a third party, no ones texts, calls, email, Skype, semaphores, smoke signals, pony express or a runner from the ancient city of Marathon with a note on the softest vellum not even a fart from a monkeys arse at different frequencies which synthesis a form of speech.
So what should or how should I feel, sad, no, disappointed, a little, break down with sack cloth and ashes with 5 professional mourners to stand over me and wail loudly that my neighbours come running to console me and feed me endless cups of tea and Lidls Germans take of the Rich Tea biscuit (Cookie if you are in the US) errrrrrmmm no, I I have met his other 3 briefly when on vacation in a caravan, the same year my step sister (the one I don’t talk to which will come apparent in a moment) through my mother accused me for calling her daughter when she was born ‘A bastard’ but I never use that word and would never ever call a child that, I am civil, i mind my P&Qs. If i was going to call my neice a bastard at lest I would call her a ‘fecking bastard’ but I never used neither words towards her as that would be a shame on her and an almighty shame on me and I would deserve all I get.
But I don’t deserve this, just because I live far away and I cannot afford to visit, it’s either visiting my girls(granddaughters) or to a place I have not lived sine I was 16 and feel so out of my comfort zone, living in a tent on a transiant site in France I would be more at ease. So if they don’t want to tell me direct about birth, deaths and marriages I have to find the information on fecking Facebook, why should I make the effort. I have not done anything wrong except to forget a birthday now and then, you can beat me with a Grimsby Haddock and call next Susan.