Saturday, March 27, 2010
DAD.. I’ll tell you what lover, I haven’t been right. I went in the toilet Monday and started puking blood. It went everywhere, up the walls, fuckin’ everywhere. Bright red it was. Fresh.
JOON.. It looked like a slaughterhouse in there.
ME.. Jesus Christ Dad, that’s not fucking good. Have you been to the doctor?
(Step-Mum rolls her eyes heavenward and gets the hell out of the room!)
DAD.. Doctor? Doctor? All a bunch of cunts. They’ve halved me fuckin’ tablets! Why the fuck would they do that?
ME.. Um. Because your Liver’s fucked Dad. You’ve abused it so much it can no longer deal with your tablets.
DAD.. Oh. D’you reckon that’s it then? What about the bleeding?
ME.. That’ll be the varicose veins in your oesophagus bursting and bleeding.
DAD.. Varicose veins? What the fuck caused that?
ME.. Your drinking you prick!!
(Much laughter at this point)
DAD.. What about the bile I bring up for no reason? It looks like egg yolks.
ME.. There is a reason you tosser! The booze! Your Liver is failing. GO TO THE FUCKING DOCTOR!
My siblings started turning up at this point and the chat went no further.
I came home, asked people who know about this stuff and did some online research.
It was worrying.
Actually, it was frightening.
I left it a few days then text my findings to my step-mum, asking her if I should tell Dad or not.
She was great, saying that the information may have more impact coming from a ‘concerned daughter’ rather than a ‘nagging wife’.
She's been trying to get him to the Doc for over 6 months.
I told her to make sure his life insurance premiums were up to date and we had a good laugh.
So I phoned him.
It went like this..
ME.. Hey Dad! I’ve done some research into what you were telling me. Asked some doctors and that.
DAD.. Oh! Nice one! And?
ME.. Dad I’m going to give you the worst case scenario. All your symptoms point to the end stages of Liver Cirrhosis.
Your Liver is shutting down. I’m not telling you to stop drinking, (The reason he won’t go to the doctor. He doesn’t want to hear that!) just cut down. Yeah?
If you don’t you won’t be here to see my birthday and all you will ever be to Ronnie (The Grandson) is an image in a photo.
Anyway, it’s just for your information. I'm not nagging or telling you to STOP drinking. Just ease up, yeah?.
DAD.. Well thanks for that Darlin’, I’m just going to go and rethink my life.
I laughed at that point thinking it was another of his ‘quips’.
We said goodbye and I thought well that’s that. At least I’ve given him the information, it’s up to him now.
He phoned today.
The ansaphone message was, ‘This is ground control to Major Tom. Can you hear me Major Tom??’ and that was it!
Made me laugh a lot.
ME.. This is Major Tom to ground control.....
DAD.. HAHAHAHAHAHA... (My Dad has a filthy laugh!) You all right Winkle?
ME.. Of course. How are you?
DAD.. That’s what I’m calling about. I went to the Doctor the day after you phoned and have had Liver function tests, blood tests and my heart x-rayed. All sorts.
ME.. Fuck me! Really?
ME.. Fuck me! Nice one Dad.
DAD.. You put the fuckin’ fear of Christ in me Darlin’! Everything you told me was absolutely right.
ME.. Did you tell them the truth though Dad?
DAD.. For the first time... Yes. My Liver is fine at the moment, I’ve knocked everything, except beer, on the head. They’ve sorted out my tablets, at last, and I feel brilliant!
ME.. That is such good news Dad. Thanks for going to the quack.
DAD.. NO! Thank you Darlin’. Thank you for being straight with me and telling me the truth of the situation.
ME.. Love you don’t I!? It’s some sort of illness. It makes me give a shit about you for some reason! We joke about you dying and that, but I’m not ready to let you go yet.
DAD.. I know. I realise I’m not ready either.
ME.. Does that mean you will leave your house and visit your kids?
DAD.. Does it fuck!
Much laughing from the both of us at this point.
DAD.. Except your birthday. Whatever is happening for your birthday and wherever, I’ll be there.
ME.. Brilliant! I love you old man.
DAD.. Love you daughter.
We said our goodbyes and that was the end of it.
Sometimes it's good to be the one who, 'utters unbearable truths'.
Friday, March 19, 2010
One of the old geezers at the front got a bit confused, thought the second reading was the Gospel and stood up.
This caused most of the people behind to follow his lead, quickly sitting as they realized their mistake.
It looked like a geriatric Mexican wave.
By the time the ‘wave’ hit me I was laughing so much, I couldn’t help it.
So I stood, raised my arms then sat down like it was an ACTUAL Mexican wave.
This corpsed Father P and I could see his shoulders going while he stared into his lap.
When it WAS his turn, he did really well to get through the Gospel with me grinning at him like an idiot!
I thought about my Step Mum, Joseph being the ultimate Step Dad.
Can you imagine his, ‘you're not my Dad’, arguments?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
My outward journey to the English countryside wasn’t the overcrowded, three coach affair to Cardiff Central I usually catch.
Therefore the travellers were slightly different.
Not students going home or pensioners with a pass going to Salisbury.
The track suited couple with the case of Stella Artois alerted me to this.
(It’s on offer in Lidl)
They had spent their time on the platform trying to extract each others tonsils’, lingually.
After witnessing this horror, my aim was to sit as far from them as possible.
They appeared and sat in the set of four seats in front of mine, backs to me.
This placed me in the unfortunate position of being able to see their foreplay through the gap.
Five minutes into the journey the old couple across the aisle from me had moved and the male snogger stopped to ask,
“D’ye wanna a fuckin’ beer, mon?”, declaring himself one of those pissed up, unintelligible Jocks.
She didn’t want one, but this didn’t deter him.
On and on and on he went.
By the time we got to Cosham, I’d had enough.
“She’s pregnant you torpid twat!”
I could see him looking at her.
“That right? You up the duff?”
Thank fuck they realized Portchester WASN’T Chichester and got off.
My outward journey from Vancouver to Seattle started hellishly early.
Many thanks to Schnee for taking me to the station. I really couldn’t have coped with the Skytrain that early.
I had booked online and had been directed to go to the Amtrak window for my tickets.
All good, until it becomes apparent there is no such fucking window.
There is a wooden lectern with an Amtrak sticker but no window.
I am not afraid to ask for directions, so looked around for someone.
Two “Staff” I encountered didn’t have a word of English between them, then I saw the Sikh.
Thinking, ‘Great! Now, some sense’, I asked where the window was.
I was utterly shocked when he too, didn’t have a word either.
How bad is that? I just assumed he’d speak English!
Eventually some bloke turned up at the lectern with tickets.
Then I had to go through customs.
After having my fingerprints scanned and paying $6 dollars to get into America, I was in my window seat on the train.
It was very clean and roomy which gave me the sinking feeling I’d got into Business Class by mistake.
My mistake had been in forgetting just how colossal some Yanks allow their arses to get.
This was ‘normal’ size!
Double the width of the British Rail bastards.
On this trip I was the ‘Jock’ everyone wanted to avoid!
The Cascades line is possibly one of the best train rides ever.
They are not joking when they say it hugs the coastline.
At one point I looked out of the window and a Bald Eagle was flying along, at eye level, within touching distance.
I had headphones on a said in that overloud headphones voice,
“FUCK ME! WOW!”
To say I drew looks would be an understatement.
At least it stopped the Korean man next to me believing my leg was an extension of his.
In four hours I was in Seattle being greeted by Prof M who fed me soul food.
Check out the Matzo ball soup.
How beautiful does that look?
Tales of Seattle and the return journey to follow and that, my friends, is a fecking doozy!
Nuns were involved.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Monday, March 08, 2010
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Friday, March 05, 2010
Had an absolutely MIGHTY time!
Thank you to all there who made my trip so amazing!
The plane home was a bit delayed and I had total tossers behind me, Northerners next to me and a woman with the fattest legs I have EVER seen across the aisle from me.
One of the tossers behind had decided to put her boots in the overhead storage. On her fucking feet or under the seat in front was too avant-garde for her.
When the drink trolley came round she decided her purse was in the storage.
Tosser husband opens it up, frees the boot for gravity to introduce to my head.
Having headphones on I didn’t hear a thing. I jumped out of my skin. Being surprised AND hurt I bellowed, “For Fuck’s Sake! You Prick!”
The male attendant, with extraordinarily well plucked eyebrows, thought a fight was breaking out and made that noise only certain Gay men can make.
It’s a sharp intake of breath and a half swallowed scream all in one.
Sometimes a hand will fly to the mouth or chest.
It’s hard to explain but I know what I mean.
Tosser husband then tells me I’ll be, ‘All right’.
Fucking all right?
I stared at him until he looked away and said, “I’ll fucking have to be, won’t I?”
I went to put my spex back on only to find them banjaxed.
The female attendant noticed at the same time.
I asked who would be paying for them. She went and got me an Incident Form.
Then, as if nothing had happened asked what I wanted to drink.
“3 bottles of White Wine please” was my cheery reply.
‘18 dollars please’, was hers.
I jabbed my thumb behind me, said, “He’s paying” put the ‘phones back on and got on with my book.
The brother was a gem and text me the train times and I was back in The Mansions before midday.
The Sassy one and I hit the greasy spoon for the lunch of champions, egg and chips!
My last view of Vancouver.
I have lots more to tell you! The German House, the trip to Seattle and loads more photos.
*A... The “Plane-tertainment” was tremendous and your letter choked me up, you fucker!
I will 'snail mail' you a letter in return.