Tuesday, 20 March 2007

Memories of me

Here I am suddenly 56 until recently getting older was not so bad besides its what happens. Life moves on year by year and suddenly instead of 26 I am nearly 56. Perhaps I should make use of the advantages age stereotyping can be and stop having red hair and let my natural grey burst through.

Old ladies can get up to anything they like cos for at least half the population they are not only totally patronised but they are also surely not capable of anything much as well as being invisible. Brilliant no one sees you anymore; just see what they think they see.

Take a friend of mine who is 70, she was telling me how one night she was just setting off on one of her round trips to supply some of her old friends with their monthly gardening supplies when halfway to the first address her car’s front right tire ran over shit loads of glass and the tire instantly deflated. And the car shuddered to a halt.

Before she could say London bus a police car had stopped and two young swaggering officers came over to her car. Good evening they said can we help you and before she could manage to say to much they proceeded to open her car boot and remove the spare tyre and tools and in a trice they had replaced the tire.

She was sweating buckets the whole time her stomach in knots. All this police activity was so close to the hash it hurt. After they had replaced the tyre, the officers put everything neatly away in the boot and then wished her a safe journey home and drove off and left her behind feeling rather faint.

Looking at my life and everything that has happened to me is like looking at some B movie. Nothing is just ordinary; everything is slightly over the top. Too much drama packed into a small time span, I mean surely one life is not enough for this much pain and drama. Torn away from friends and family in Trinidad at a young age, only tolerated by the European side of the family. Moving from paradise to a cold wet climate, no family and no friends.

Plus we didn’t have the money you need to establish ourselves comfortably certainly not the comforts my parents wanted. They had to have a detached house with two toilets and a garage. My mum was so full of shit poor thing she did not know where her lies ended and the truth started or was it the other way around.

Truth did not matter for her just getting her own way and having her version of history be the one that counted. Anything my mum was involved in had to be over dramatic and always played to an audience real or imaginary. Bloody nightmare for me having parents like this, nothing could be taken for granted least of all happiness.

In fact I grew very worried by happiness as every time we were happy nasty things happened soon after. Like the time when all seemed wonderful no rows nothing and just as I thought all was well my mum turned up one day at school. She wanted to take me she said for a quick holiday to Germany. Once there it turned out she had emptied the bank account and left dad and was not planning to go back. Or as she put it no way will I return to that violent pig!

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