Bitch on the Blog

August 14, 2017

Not so nice

Filed under: Human condition,Integrity — bitchontheblog @ 19:30
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Holy what’s it. There is a threshold. Some people die before they have barely drawn their first breath, some people die – at, say, fifty.

And some people live. Forever.

My parents a point in case. My mother is eighty four, my father eighty. You’d think they’d have the good grace to abdicate. Well, my mother will, soon. My father? Not so much out of spite as determination he’ll probably live long enough to refuse attending any of his four children’s funerals because it’s just too much hassle.

Where am I going with this? I don’t know. All I know is that I have had it with being held to ransom. Most of you, my readers older than me, most of you having buried or are about to bury your parents, please do throw me a morsel of comfort. What? Throw me a morsel of comfort? How selfish. What I meant to say: Please don’t do to your children what I most certainly hope to spare the Angel.

So much for cheer. I’ll crank it up with my next post.

Lost, lost, lost and ashamed,

U

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April 9, 2017

Not Trump – MY father

Filed under: Family — bitchontheblog @ 16:07
Tags: , , , ,

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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