Bitch on the Blog

April 9, 2017

Not Trump – MY father

Filed under: Family — bitchontheblog @ 16:07
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This is pretty raw stuff since it only happened a few minutes ago.

Most of you, obviously, will have/had parents.  My father drives me to despair. I am trying, hard. The expenditure of energy when talking to him (on the phone) bears no relation to how terrible I feel afterwards. For ages.

The man doesn’t let me finish one thought, not even one sentence. If I make it to a comma I count myself lucky. Talking over me. Shouting down the line. Am I deaf? It’s awful.  

Bloody hell. It’s a Sunday afternoon, the sun is shining, I tried to phone my mother (she was out) served with my father answering the phone. Now I am sitting here, not exactly five years old any longer, crying. And yes, I did put the phone down on him, eventually. There are limits. And mine stretch far,

Leaving aside that he has always been overbearing, are we now entering that land of the lost old? The land where they are so obtuse they don’t know what they are doing? For heavens sake, I am the one of his children who loyally holds out. The one who is always at the end of the telephone line.  I can’t do this any more.

Anyway, any of you, please let me know what you think.

The odd thing is, my mother being four years older than my father (he will be eighty later this year) is who she always was (albeit physically wilting as roses do) – but fully compos mentis. My father? I hate to think of him like that but I think he becoming more of what he always was. And maybe – unlike his wife, my mother – not with it that much any longer. Or maybe, likely, he is just frustrated how his life has panned out.

I don’t know.

Pretty distraught,

U

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August 13, 2016

Lady Chatterley

Filed under: Amusement,Observations — bitchontheblog @ 13:21
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Apart from the pleasure that communicating with others give me, my blogs and those of others have been and are an education.

An education not least how and when to keep my lips zipped, my keyboard locked and generally being “nice” [make the latter not say anything at all – which is the hardest].

I could (and, in due course, no doubt will) mention many an example where and when bloggers (including myself) could do with a lesson.

A lesson. Just now I happened onto a post (I think posted 12 August) of a blogger who is a harpy. And I mean a harpy. Her harpy always but always complains. Not least about her commentators. Mainly because they are American. In her eyes Americans have nothing to say. Other than “nice”. Which is fine. We all have a bone to bury and then dig up. In her case it’s Americans who are hooked on her. Gratitude? Don’t make me laugh. Disdain is her default mode. Does she lap up the adulation? Of course she does. Even if she spits on it.  So far so fine. Whatever sinks your boat.

What I don’t like – and maybe she’d like to think about it – that she allows comments yet never answers any of them. That’s not communication. That’s not discourse. Most certainly it’s not discussion. It’s “Come to my court”, and be dismissed.

As not to be misunderstood, I quite like her. Yet, truth be told, she is hard work as I have rarely encountered.

So, what got my wrath just now, reading her last post? She is a saint. A saint. Let’s leave it there before she recognizes herself as the saint she is.

U

 

May 14, 2013

Operator

Filed under: Future — bitchontheblog @ 16:13
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Don’t cry for me: Most my ‘social’ life is conducted on the phone. A bit hard on a person as tactile as I am. Doesn’t matter where I am. I am always HERE.

No, I am not wheelchair bound. I am as fast on my feet as what’s his name, the messenger whinging it. What I am is – always somewhere else. Mainly abroad. To top it all my passport has run out. I told longest standing friend (think sandpit) that I am now a prisoner of this island courtesy to my country’s laws and their London embassy’s mills turning slowly. Though they will give me an emergency passport should someone close and across the sea die. Die. What sort of difference does that make to the dead? Prisoner on this island. What friend said – he is very dry: “”You have been a prisoner on those isles for a long time.”

Fact is, passport not withstanding: In theory I can go where I want. But where do I want to go? If there is one thing I hate it is choice paralysis. And choice paralysis has set in. We need reason in life. Definition. And sometimes we realize that we have too much of a good thing. And too little of the other.

U

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