Cantate Sunday

Today, because I decided to watch the Match Of The Day repeat, I ended up at the 10.15am Mass.

AKA the ‘Screaming and Crying’ Mass.

Given the numbers who plod out for the Children’s Liturgy, the Roman Catholic Church shouldn’t have any trouble sustaining itself.

But...

But if, as I believe, they are there because their parents are thinking ahead about school places.... It’s fucked!

There was a magic moment before kick off, when the old lady with barely any teeth and the old lady with barely any English got into it over the collection bags.

I’m not sure how that one got resolved. I’d like to think they took it in the car park and had a bit of a scrap.

It was the one with scant English who waved it under my nose.

Then there was the moment of absolute gold.

A little boy, unimpressed by the mystery of Transubstantiation, was hugging and grabbing his kneeling Father’s leg.

Getting no response other than the finger to the lips “Shush” sign, he waited until ‘we were not worthy to receive’ anything then BIT his Dad right on the cheek of his arse!

Watching a huge black man grip the pew and throw his head back in a silent scream was brilliant.

From the way he looked at his son I just knew; another time, another place and this kid wouldn’t be sitting down for a week.

I couldn’t keep my shit together after that!

Random

This random thought may have something to do with the Vodka, the Weed, the Insomnia or the Temazepam OR, more realistically, a combination of the four!

BUT....

What happened to, "Champion The Wonder Horse"?

(Works well if you sing it in your head! If you know the tune that is!)

Mmmmm...

I think I'll roll another!

A Brace Of Nutters

Bro-in-Law J is out of hospital.

Proving that a 28 day Section is a complete and utter load of bollocks.

He is back on medication, the kind that makes it impossible for him to stand still.

The Psychotropic Shuffle I call it.

Poor fucker.

After much discussion, soul searching and general fucking stress; the decision was made to let him stay in the house.

A long, long time ago someone gave me a second chance and it changed my life.

I think of it as my ‘pay it forward’ opportunity.

There has also been a huge change of situation for him.

He is going to be a Grandfather.

Yep. More Great Aunt-dom for me.

The niece, L, is pregnant and she has told him that she not only has no compunction about sectioning him again, he will NEVER see his Grandchild if he doesn’t get his act together.

A Bi-Polar man can do without a £600 a week Mephedrone habit for fuck’s sake.

Another condition of him staying in the house - No Dealing.

An inconvenience for me but life saving for him. Fingers crossed.

Most people will think I’m a fool. That he will fuck me over again.

Maybe he will.

But if I don’t give room to a bit of optimism, a bit of faith in his assertion that he wants to change, I feel that somehow that it will diminish me.

He didn’t remember holding a knife at my throat or screaming in my face the myriad of ways he was going to kill me.

Surprisingly, he does have a recollection of me standing up to him, just NOT why.

(My Fight or Flight instinct, as blogged about before, kicked straight in to Fight and I shouted back, “that kind of intimidation only works on those afraid to die you cunt!.... And I AM NOT!”. I pushed myself into the blade until blood was drawn and he stepped away.)

Crisp-e came round this evening and we have decided that John Davidson should be awarded an OBE.

Via the BBC, we first met John as a sixteen year old in the late 80’s.

For me and most people I know, he was our first introduction to Tourette Syndrome.

I laughed ‘til I cried.

Then every time there was an ‘update’ or another programme about those afflicted I made sure I watched.

The last one, which was filmed a year ago, was different.

It upset me.

The humour was still there and I laughed until I was in pain but hearing him talk of his loneliness, his yearning for a family of his own.... It got me.

I think he has done great work in making Tourette’s ‘acceptable’.

Some prick should give the fucker an award!

Here’s a little bit of John (and Chums!)

“I’m up to my knees in fucking cow pat”, is what I pull to the forefront of my mind when I have the overwhelming urge to be rude or punch someone.

Cracks me up!

Loss

Today Jessie left the world.

She was brave and dignified.

I'm in physical pain as a hole the size of a Greyhound has been torn in my soul.

Our Man In Austria

This is the latest from Crisp-e, who is on a school skiing trip.

No correspondence about the 'powder', food, booze or the kids.

Just texts about our shared FA Cup Semi Final heartbreak and the above picture.

You are MORE than ready for marriage my friend!

Seriously....

Sometimes, the only question can be, ‘Are they fucking mad?!’

Easter Time

To say Easter was eventful would be a slight understatement.

Without going too far into the details because they depress the fucking arse off of me, the bi-polar ex bro-in-law lost his shit.

He threatened to kill me, whacked golf balls up the street while naked and took two of his mates hostage.

He is now sectioned for 28 days.

The house is an utter shithole and to be perfectly honest I don’t want him back in it.

He was given the opportunity to rent it because I didn't want my niece and nephew visiting him where he used to live.

They are now 21 and 18. I'm sure I've done my bit.

I have awful guilt at the moment.

On a more cheerful note, the Edible Estate is under way.

I love planting beans because the result is almost instantaneous. There are 3 types this year, Climbing French Beans, Barlotto and, of course, Runner Beans.