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| anger, refugee, melbourne, drunk pantie, safety hazards, stage, poetry, anger management, swingers, list of literary works, list of films, college, postsecularism, loser, eve, agnosticism, nude, | few months into my new flat I was getting by ok. Then it started. I got a letter. He'd been robbed in Ecuador (IIRC) and needed money to get by. About £1500 was needed RIGHT AWAY or he'd be in deep trouble. This was 1988, islam I was 19 then, and so it was quite a lot of money for me. So right away I telexed over what I could manage islam - about £100.So the guilt trips, mostly by post, then started. Often written on scraps of mismatching paper."Is that all you could send me son? Don't you islam know you're the most important to me... the only one of my children who talks to me. It's very lonely being out here, all alone. No, I didn't take out travel insurance, it's too expensive. You need to help me son."I had another £50. Sent that. |
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| 18 my nan swingers died. Thankfully I'd just got my first job so I soon had a paycheck. Dad left it up to me to deal with the funeral arrangements and so on, and two days swingers before the funeral of his mother he buggered off on his annual jaunt to South swingers America.Still, I just carried on. The good old National Abbey (name made into a tough anagram to protect the innocent) cheerfully refused to let me buy the house my nan had lived in, so it got repossesed and they could make a huge profit on selling it on.At this point, I'd scraped together what I could and bought a flat. And a car, because I needed it for work. I was, quite frankly, skint.Now, sorry for all the pre-amble, but it's important to set the scene as to what a cunt my father could be.A |
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