Dear dad

Email received from my father......

Hi  

Suppose to be branded a prolific writer is some form of recognition.

Just like paintings , ones works become collectable after one is no longer around!!

Cheers

Barry

My response.....after email above and another one asking me to wish the boys Happy Birthday. 
Two sons have birthdays on consecutive days 23 and 24 July.

Hello dad,

Make sure we get a copy of your books then, if there is a chance in death your fame and notoriety will increase!

Boys birthdays are always a stress, feeling that you are meeting expectations and delivering fun.

James is at the age where he is out with mates, drinking in pubs etc with his fake ID. I am sometimes a taxi and often the receiver of tired grumpy teenagers who can't work out why they are skint!

Meanwhile Will has asked for five boys to stay tonight. That means they will stay awake all night, watch horror films and eat loads. 

I look forward to tomorrow when it's all over and normality can resume.

Just purchased the most expensive football boots for Will. I said if he got selected for Kent I would treat him, I thought it was a long shot! Just goes to show. 

The boys would always appreciate hearing from you directly. Very sad for me to pass on messages from their grandfather when you have the means and ability to send a birthday card. After all these years it still saddens me you do not fully understand what being a grandfather and having grandchildren really means. Some people would relish the opportunity to have three handsome, sporty, intelligent, witty, tall grandsons who's knowledge of sport especially football puts most of us in the shade. Tom is a young man now getting ready for uni, the first grandson to go. James is now a qualified lifeguard working at the pool in his spare time, also coaches Water polo for the juniors and also plans to go to uni. Will is so sporty his ability to play anything never ceases to delight and surprise me. 

We're away from next Friday for a well deserved holiday.

Not even a daddy's girl

I have a very strange relationship with my father. He lives in Malaysia, and once a year he usually makes a trip to the UK. This trip normally coincides with the annual stamp fair in Dublin or the stamp collectors AGM, whatever that is. He usually makes time to see us, that's my brother and me and the five grandchildren. We are normally allocated two days in total.

This year he said that he would possibly come to the UK in August with his wife (who apparently hates travelling) and stay in a hotel in London and we could all meet up.
I hadn't heard from him for a while so sent a What's App this weekend asking if he had made plans for his trip.

No, he hadn't, they weren't coming to the UK this year, far too busy. Apparently they have just bought another condo in KL that needs work, and he's busy learning his Californian highway code.
Interesting, it appears the condo is smaller than their current home and has been purchased in readiness for them to downsize when the dogs die ( planning ahead, as dogs are apparently fine at the moment!) and California is on the agenda. My step sister has bought them a house in San Jose, and they plan to spend time there during the coming years.

I read recently that families that refer to each other as step and half are not embracing the true meaning of family. Well for the record I use the term step, as it conjures up a divided and disjoined family unit. Which we are.

Now on hearing this news I was rather shocked. We have never get invited to Malaysia for a holiday. I did take the boys once for a week in 2011, just before I was about to split from my husband and it was actually really great to spend time with my dad and his wife Noel. My dad for the first time in my life seemed to relate to my impending dilemma and heartache. We had a great time in Malaysia, the boys were impeccably behaved and it was a success. So I was told by my father and Noel and so I thought. I think they were genuinely surprised how independent we all were, easy to amuse and happy to be out and about, using public transport and exploring.

I recently mentioned to my father that we would happily visit him in Malaysia as I know travelling when you get older can be rather difficult, and he struggles with his mobility at times. He said Noel was now quite neurotic and didn't like visitors, and despite having a full time maid it caused undue stress. I was rather put out and said he should tell her that we are his family. I also thought he could arrange for alternative accommodation for us, if he really wanted to see us but didn't verbalise this. He said he found it hard with Noel too but managed to cope. Personally I think neither of them have enough to do all day except bemoan the poor Philippine maid, who is worked so hard and probably never does anything quite right.

How different can parents be? I have a mother who would do anything for her two children and grandchildren and cherishes time together and a father who does not.

We have had our differences over the years, I can't say I like him too much. I try, I've even had counselling but it comes down to the same thing every time. How can you have a relationship with someone who doesn't seem to care about you.

We don't get birthday cards, Christmas cards or presents. We get an annual visit if we're lucky, and little dialogue.

And now I learn he favours time nearer his other daughter ( he adopted her ) my step-sister who I despise.

I despise her for lots of reasons but one event in particular. Many years ago she invited me to her wedding dinner, which turned out to be a lie. She was apparently having a full traditional wedding in Malaysia with her fiancé Andy (a Malaysian) and this was a UK pre-ample with just the registry office ( done earlier in the day) and a meal with a few family and friends. We weren't invited to Malaysia for her apparent big wedding but I wouldn't have expected to be, as our relationship even then was disjointed and very ill at ease. We were told Andy and her had been married earlier at the Registry office but this later turned out to be untrue. We were also requested to buy John Lewis vouchers, which were never returned after the truth came out, and Andy and Grace never married and soon split up. My dad was part of the whole conspiracy at the time too. There's even more to the story but as you see, it's all a bit crazy.

My dislike for Grace also stems back to the time when I was 17 and had just I learned my mother and father were separating. Grace was thrust at me in my then family home and I was supposed to like her. Meanwhile I had just heard that the reason my parents were separating was because her mother and my father had an affair. Plus to add to the injury at the time, the rumour in Hong Kong was that Noel, Grace's mother was a prostitute. Can you imagine all this shit flying about, and knowing my mother was back in the UK weeping having fled from Hong Kong with little of her belongings. We were fresh out of boarding school in the UK, greeted with the separation  news, and days later packed off to HK as usual with our mother saying "you'll be fine darlings, go and enjoy the holidays with your dad!".

Over the years I have learnt to get along with Noel, and even enjoy her company. Age has mellowed me. But not Grace, forever the clever achieving girl, who's success is rubbed into my very being whenever my dad can. And now she's bought him a house. Well strike me down, isn't he lucky.

Picking over the carcass

Warning this blog entry contains some swearing because just occasionally the writing of a horrid little swear word releases a feelgood endorphin!

The wolves circle, continually watching, observing and then with interest move in.

A light interest that underlies so many questions. A gentle prompt and prod to see what it reveals.

"You're staying at South Road then?"
Translated it means; following your failed planning application you're not moving then?

"Yes at the moment I'm staying" I then pause and think about how much I want to say and continue.
"Actually at the moment I'm in the middle of my appeal....." Silence.

Yes the fucking appeal. It has been ticking away quietly in the background until today. Then like a fat beast it raised its ugly furry head, and messed up my mind and my everything.

As I write this my planning consultant, who is costing me nothing short of my divorce solicitor, is compiling the final appeal response in answer to the councils statement and the neighbours who once again had to have their say. Mind you only three this time, against 81 before. I have actually refused to read or see the comments, I can't bear it. I don't want to know what has been said, and by who. I hate everyone who commented the first time, why would I want to hate them more?

It's ok I will move on but tonight I want to vent. And my hate is only surface deep, I don't have the energy to allow it to go further.

So why the anger today?

Today I learnt that Swale Council have said they would consider a house but in a different location, size and design.
WHAT, you never said this at the planning committee meeting. You never wrote this in your refusal document. You just said the proposal was an alien form. You gave me nothing to consider, re-address, re-design. NOPE nothing, nada, no fucking piece of hope. So after lots of anguish, upset I decided I would go to appeal because I sought advice and we decided we had a chance at appeal because you had been so unreasonable.

Please note the word unreasonable. Yup totally, equivocally unjust and unfair. You played dirty and now at the 11th hour you say perhaps you would allow a house.

Do you think I have thousands of pounds to employ an architect to re-design the house that I developed with your planning department in the first place, to meet your requirements, not mine. I compromised, I listened, I responded and I then submitted when you said you were happy.

You never cease to amaze me. And the wolves circle; the friends and acquaintances that want to know more. All amazed at my silence, my dignity held during a war that raged around me in January, February and March 2016. Posters, on-line comments, articles in papers, neighbours downward gaze, local councillors siding with residents. The snowball just gathered momentum until in the end no one knew what they were fighting but they just joined the fight.

In the aftermath when the locals battle was won, some people were astounded at the behaviour of some and apologised directly. Many were shocked and said they didn't know what all the fuss had been about.

The inspector visits here on the 9th August, and then we await his response to this farcical process.

And just for the record, I am fucking furious, pissed off, mad and annoyed that I have been made to go through this and now read comments from the council about what they may permit. You bunch of planning tossers, playing with peoples emotions, expecting them to keep paying for more plans and to back down after I committed to the appeal process. How dare you.

May I see justice done, may the inspector rule in my favour because Swale Planning department don't know their arse from their elbow and it will be an act of incompetence if the appeal goes in their favour.

How do we measure a woman's success?

Do we measure success by money, material possessions, integrity, allegiance, confidence, honesty, popularity, compassion, personal achievement or happiness?

A question that we all possibly have different ideas, observations and thoughts on.

Measuring a woman's success is often measured against a man doing a similar task, job, sport and if the woman meets an expectation and acceptance within this comparison then she can be deemed as successful.

What if we take paid work out of the equation and measure someones success on their life away from work, money and promotion. What are we measuring?

Are we measuring a persons ability to be organised, be a good parent, a role model, an excellent volunteer, good at DIY, maintain a home, produce delicious meals, be contented, a good partner, friend, punctual, loyal and trustworthy; is that success?

I often think men feel their success is measured by their perceived wealth. Indeed a group of men can often be seen strutting about like peacocks presenting their wealth in visual terms. A watch, a car, a new home, a position in the work place. Does this really reflect success?

I was once astounded at the amount of new cars in a school car park, and felt somewhat ashamed of my nine year old banger. It never occurred to me that the cars were all purchased on HP or leased and that few if anyone actually owned their cars out right! Years later as we hit a recession the cars vanished, but my old faithful was still going strong. At the time I felt almost overwhelmed with the visual of what appeared to be wealth and success but later realised it was all show.

Success is indeed many things.
What is important is that men and woman are measured in the same way; in their work place and within home.
In both areas there is room for brilliance, achievement, and recognition and of course failure.
Being a parent or indeed working parent doesn't make you better, more able or a right to martyr points. And indeed being a working man or woman (without children) doesn't automatically make you more able to achieve and less likely to fail.

Being a good person in all areas of life makes you successful.

Angela Leadsom and Theresa May are proving this is an interesting battle of our times, and they left Michael Gove watching as a bystander despite his wife wishing him success at the cost of his integrity and honesty.