Annus Horribilus.

29th December 2008. The first day of my Annus Horribilus. A year ago I had a nasty fight with the awful orphan. On my way downstairs to my kitchen, I heard my son arguing with the awful orphan. My husband was there trying to calm them down; he wasn't having much luck. I was confident I would be able to calm them down. I failed miserably. The awful orphan managed to wind me up big time. In my defence he is the master of winding up people. He could win a gold medal by a mile if it was an olympic sport; no contest. So we had words. At one point I told him he used to upset his mum the way he was upsetting me. His mum had passed away in May 2004. I knew it was a low blow and I said as much. So he came back with, "we all know what you did to my mother". An equally low blow if not more so. He was talking about things that had happened in 1977 - over 6 years before he was born. Ancient history.

I would have had some respect for him if he had ever bought up the subject while his mother had been alive. He'd had 21 years to speak up. Or if he had spoken up while his father was alive. He'd had 27 years to by the time his father died. So I was livid to say the least.

I know what had happened, my sister knew what had happened. She was dead, so if I was going to rake up old ground, she couldn't defend herself. So that wasn't right. Even if her husband had been alive I could have grabbed the awful orphan by the ear, dragged him accross the road to his father's house and asked him to sort his son out. I would have been willing to go over old ground in his father's presence, because his father had a pretty good idea of what I had suppossedly done to my sister.

So I asked him to enlighten me as to what I had supposedly done to his mother. I was goading him. I was angry, hurt, frustrated and some. I was ready for a fight. The gloves were off. I was saying - come on give it your best shot, lets see what you've got because I'm going to knock you out with what I have for you.

But luckily the awful orphan left my house with more shouting and abuse being directed at him and he gave as good as he got. I'm glad he went, as things would have got out of hand otherwise.

As the day went on I felt more and more depressed. It was all sinking in. The things that had been said; why had they been said; what would be the repercussions? I felt very sad and angry and hurt. I wanted to go over the road to the awful orphan and squeeze the life out of him. I wanted him to be sorry for what he had said to me. As the hours ticked by I got worse and worse. I spoke to my husband about it; I shouted a lot rather than spoke. I was trying to work out what had happened and why. It was a horrible, awful day.

The night was worse. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't read. All I could do was hear the things that had been said in my kitchen earlier in the day. The words and images going round and round in my head constantly. I wanted to go over to the awful orphan's house, bash the door down and give him a piece of my mind. I didn't do that, it was the middle of the night. I did write him a text message. It said "You disgraced your Mother and Father earlier. You broke my heart. I hope it was worth it." It was 1.20am. I still have the text on my phone a year later to the day. I never sent the text.

I got up some time the next day. I hadn't slept even 5 minutes during the whole night. I felt rotten, listless, jetlagged and depressed. I couldn't understand why he would come out with these accusations that were nothing to do with him. What was he harbouring towards me all this time? All the years he had known me. Everything I had done for him. Maybe he had had these feelings all his life. Maybe I didn't know him at all. I had so many questions going round and round in my head. He had been treated like my own son by me; better than my own son. I had done things for him that I hadn't done for my own children. Had he been laughing at me all the time? Using me all these years? Making me think he loved and respected me. Maybe.

It's a year later to the day. I'm still affected by what happened that day. Nothing has ever been spoken of it again, by either of us. Nothing has been resolved. It's been left to fester. It's 1.05am and I'm writing about that horrid day. It seems as if it were yesterday. I hope the awful orphan reads this one day so he can understand what he did to me. This is the first time I have documented it all. This is my story, my history.

More texts!

More drama. More texts. More family feuding. Lovely. Just what the doctor ordered. Because of my clash with my sister nisha yesterday, my younger daughter decided she was going to text nisha as well. My daughter told nisha that if I wanted to talk to my father's solicitor then that was up to me. She also told nisha not to contact me again and to delete all of our numbers from her phone. My older daughter came home and decided to join into the fray. She text nisha and told her that while nisha's brother had been alive, nisha hadn't given him the time of day and reminded her that she had been nasty to his face and behind his back. Oooohh, low blow. nisha replied; she said we all needed anger management and all the abusive texts she had received had been passed to the police. I would have told her to stop wasting police time but I thought I'd better put a stop to this latest spat, so I desisted.

Well isn't she a card! I was the only one who sent abusive texts so I don't know what she's going on about. Neither of the girls sent her abusive texts. And then telling us we all need anger management. Well I agree I do need anger management, but my girls, no way Jose. nisha could do with some anger management too and so could my baby brother and my Father. So anger is a problem; it's all down to my genes I'm afraid.

I hope she didn't pass the texts to the police. It would be bad if I wasted police time but it's much worse for nisha to waste police time. She calls the police - pigs. She was a paid up member of the Militant wing of the Labour party. She hated the police. She was always going on marches and demonstrations. She was overtly anti establishment. Kind of ironic really. Complaining to the police about the text messages I sent her and calling them pigs in the same breath. Bloody hypocrite.

Fight by text.

More drama, all in a day's work. My sister nisha who hasn't spoken to me for years, got a call from my Father's solicitor. He was complaining about me. How I had phoned him and been rude and abusive to him. Oh didums. Tattle tale. I hadn't been rude or abusive by any stretch of the imagination, but still - didums. So nisha decided to tell me off by text. I was not to contact poor solicitor any more. I was alienating him. I was jeopardising my Brother's Inquest.

What a bloody family I have. I wasn't rude. I asked some pertinent questions; and what? Why would the fact, that the solicitor doesn't like me, jeopardise the case? Surely he's a proffessional. Surely he can tell a head case whe he comes across one. He shouldn't be so bloody sensitive. Jeopadise the case? What's he going to do? Postpone it again? And what? It's not like he pulled his finger out and got the job done so far, is it! Have we really got anything else to loose? Bloody looser.

What did I say to my sister, I hear you ask. Well I was very unlady like, I told her to f*** off; and to f*** the solicitor too, by text. Bloody cry baby.

She said I belonged on the Jeremy Kyle show. I don't know what she's going on about but I learnt to swear from my Dad. We had swearing in our home on a daily basis; and on the weekends there were bonus swear words for special occaisions. So I replied by text and told her she belonged in a coffin.

Is my sister nisha a lady? Is nisha a saint? Is the pope married? NO! I had to put up with some very, very blue language from her last year; 6 days after the awful orphan's Father had died - 10th October 2008. She hadn't spoken to me for months and months. All I wanted was a relationship with her. My older sister had died four and a half years before. nisha was the only sister I had left in the world. We had been close most of our lives. I was practically begging her for a relationship. All I wanted, was to see her once a month to catch up with each other. Not too much to ask for.

We still hadn't had my brother in law's funeral. It was a very warm day. I asked nisha to come for a walk with me. We went to a local park. We were gone for about 3 hours. For at least 2 hours I had to listen to her swear at my husband, my daughters and my son. The swearing was coming out of her mouth, her eyes, her ears, her nose. Did I walk away and tell her I wasn't going to listen to her foul mouth? No. I heard her out. I was willing to do anything for some semblence of a relationship. I was even willing to listen to her hate, her poison and her vitriol, no matter how much it hurt me. I was willing to listen to her tell me how she wished my husband was dead, instead of my brother in law. Would I have said the same thing to her that day? No way. Would I say it to her today? No. Why? Because I wish it was her who was dead. I hate my sister. She may as well be dead as far as I'm concerned. I have no problem with people who preach. But at least practice what you preach. Bloody hypocite sister. Does my sister nisha swear when she's angry or hurt or pissed off? You bet she does, like a trooper, always and without fail. She needs to get off her high horse and come back to the real world.

Bastard solicitor.

Had a conversation with my Father's solicitor today. It's been a while, months since we've spoken. I wonder if he's missed me.

My Father has a solicitor to deal with the Inquest into my Brother's untimely death in a psychiatric ward in hospital. My Brother died on 23rd July 2005. Because he had been sectioned and died in hospital, there had to be an Inquest into his death. Unfortunately the Inquest has still not been heard.

This fact makes me angry and very upset. There is no point having an Inquest at this late stage. Vital witnesses will not be available to appear at the Inquest. Some will have left the country; they can't be made to come back for the Inquest. Some will have moved on and may not be able to be traced after such a long period of time. I strongly believe that the way my Brother died will never come to light. I feel this is grossly unfair and unjust. If an Inquest has to be heard, it should be heard within a reasonable time frame. It should be a legal requirement that the Inquest is heard within a year. Families have a right to be treated with dignity and respect. Families have a right to justice. Public money is being spent; there should be a purpose for this money to be spent. It should be credible. It should make sense and not be a charade. Common sense should prevail above all else.

All I did today was voice these same concerns to my Father's solicitor. I was accused of being rude and abusive by the solicitor. Why? I asked him, what had I said that was rude or abusive. No reply. I was at work when I spoke to the solicitor. My colleagus were listening to the conversation; they heard everything I said. I didn't shout, I didn't call him names. I have witnesses. He threatened to put the phone down on me. He threatened to call my sister nisha - that had me shaking in my boots. I was genuinely terrified, NOT. What a wuss. He needed a good slap. That would have sorted him out.

He spoke to me as if I were a 5 year old. He twisted everything I said. I felt as if he was a prosecuting solicitor and I was being prosecuted. And then to top it all he was going running to nisha. Oh my God. Bastard solicitor!

All quiet on the Western Front.

No more drama, no more scenes, no more dramatics, I'm pleased to say. All quiet on the Western Front....

Tesco Fiasco.

Oh My God! I don't believe it. This afternoon my daughter and her boyfriend were in Tesco, minding their own business, doing the grocery shopping - buying food for a Sunday supper, when my nephew (the awful orphan's younger brother), popped up under my daughter's nose and asked how she was. She didn't want to talk to him so she tried to ignore him; carried on her conversation and walked away. Did he get the message? No. He came running after her to find out why she didn't want to talk to him. By this time my daughter was getting angry; she walked away again. Did he get the message? No. He ran after her again, down the cheese aisle; this time he wanted to know what her problem was. Why didn't she want to talk to him? So she gave him a loud, angry answer in the middle of Tesco. There was shouting and swearing - there was a big scene.

She told him his brother had treated her Father and her family in an appalling manner. She said there was no way she was going to give him the time of day or talk to him or sort out any differences with him, because he hadn't been in touch for 8 months. He was shocked at her attitude. Why? I cannot understand why. He said, I have no father you stupid woman. So the awful orphan's brother feels he has a God given right to be rude and disrespectful just because he has no father. I disagree. My daughter also told him that his brother was taking her Father to court over £22,000 - he had no answer to that. I suppose the way she shouted it out in the middle of Tesco, on a busy Sunday afternoon made it sound a bit bloody petty.

From today's encounter it seems as if there is little or no communication between the 2 brothers. It seems as if the younger one is following the older one blindly. Not asking any questions; for example: Why don't my cousins speak to me any more? Why don't my aunt and uncle see me or speak to me anymore? How can 6 people in one family change so much? Are you sure it's not you they have a problem with? Are you sure I haven't done anything wrong? Are you telling me everything? Are you telling me anything? The younger orphan is 20 years old - he's not a baby. He's a man. He needs to ask questions. He needs to know what is going on.

Or is he being protected? If so. What is he being protected from?

The worst thing about today is that the awful orphan hasn't been able to gauge, in the last 12 months, what impact all this is having on his younger brother. He hasn't given one thought to how his brother will feel living next door to 4 members of his extended family, that he used to be very close to. How will he cope if he approaches them one by one and none of them want to speak to him or sort things out with him? The awful orphan is too selfish to think about the only surviving member of his immediate family. Too selfish to care for him, to nurture him, to love him, to put him first.

The awful orphan and his brother moved in next door to us this evening. It's one of the worst decisions he's made - ever. Did he have an alternative? Yes, of course he did. There's always a way where there's a will. But he took the easy way out for himself and the hard way out for his brother. That's love for you. Blood brothers indeed.

Three come along together!

No sighting for a week then 2 in the same day. Typical. Just like buses. You wait ages for one then 3 come along all together. Just my luck! I thought when the awful orpan had gone away today that I would get at least a weeks respite. No such luck. He was back in just a few short hours. So no time for my heart to grow fonder.

Two of my kids were home when the nephews landed for the second time today. I'm glad I wasn't home alone. I don't mean to make a big deal about it; it's not as if I feel scared or worried for my safety. But it is weird. The house next door has been empty for 10 months and I got used to it being that way. Now when I see my nephews through my kitchen window, in their own kitchen, it makes me feel weird for want of a better word. It's unsettling. It makes my heart sink. I haven't spoken to either of them since April. That's a long time. I used to speak to them almost every day and I used to see them about 4 or 5 times a week. So it's a big difference - to go from being very close to being estranged from each other.

It will take me some time to get used to having them next door. I hope I don't get wound up and react. I have desisted for the last 8 months from going over to their home and giving them both a piece of my mind and some. I pass very close by their home on my way to work 4 times a week. But I made a decision each day to stay away no matter how upset, angry or frustrated I was. Because I didn't want things to get out of control, out of hand. I want to carry on in the same way but it will be a lot harder now that they are living right under my nose.

Over the past year I have had countless conversations in my head with the awful orphan and his brother as well as the rest of my family. A lot of resentment and bitterness has built up. I hold the awful orphan reponsible for my very poor health this year and for the terrible stress he has caused me and my family. So there's reason enough for me to kick off!

Latest sighting.

I have news of an appearance from the awful orphan. When I thought he had dissapeared into a black hole never to be seen again, he popped up again. He was over at the house next door this afternoon. He had a guy come to fit a TV ariel - let the poor guy sit there waiting for him to turn up. Well the awful orphan is very important, so why not? They were at the house for about an hour and then they dissapeared again.

I wonder how long until the next sighting. The longer the better. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe it will make me fornder of him if he doesn't turn up for another 6 months. Wishful thinking I think.

I wish I had 3 wishes. I'd wish for world peace, I'd wish to eradicate hunger and I'd wish never to see the awful orphan again. There's never a Genie around when you need one!