Sprechen Sie Englisch?
25.09.07, 9:09 pm

My dad is a selfish self-obsessed dickhead. Apparently you�re not meant to say that kind of thing about your dad, but I�m going to because it�s true. I spoke to my sister at the weekend, who then rang him before I could send a blunt email, and the jewellery is safe for the time being, and Amanda isn�t getting the chain, no matter what the pair of them want. Apparently he was planning on trading the jewellery in at the jewellers in exchange for the wedding rings. Because why wouldn�t you go trade in a load of boring old treasured memories in exchange for a lovely shiny new life? He has no idea what the big deal is, or why my sister and I are so annoyed. He�s basically pissed all over the past, and, along with some money-grabbing emotional blackmail stuff that I won�t bother going in to, has made me so angry that I don�t really want to go to his wedding. And I�m totally frigged because I�ve agreed to be a witness, and so have to go.

It�s hard� explaining me and my dad�s complicated relationship in a couple of hurriedly written paragraphs. I know I have a lot of faults � I�m impatient and too flippant and get wound up too quickly. But he has a lot of faults too, and his are a lot more damaging than mine. He�s thoughtless and selfish and essentially blind to everything else if he wants his own way. All he cares about is his wonderful new life with Amanda, and to hell with anyone else. Everything�s now about money, probably stemming from the original Money Grabber. I feel awful writing all this, because he still is essentially my dad, but he keeps doing this. He keeps bludgeoning through things and hurting me in the process, refusing to say sorry or even to understand why he�s wrong.

We can have the jewellery if we want, but it�s not really the issue. The fact that he was going to sell it, so he could buy two wedding rings, and was going to let her have some of it, still stands. How are you supposed to forget that?

Anyway, enough of the bad crap. I�ve now started full-time at work, which I like to see as me waving a big placard with FUCK YOU! on it in the ME�s face. It�s hard work, and I�ll admit that I�m really tired, but I�m hoping that my body will get used to it in time. The downside is that I have to do actual work in the afternoons now, as I�m there until 4pm, rather than just flop around until home time, pretending to write up my results like I used to do.

Also, I am off to Berlin tomorrow with the Scottish One for a week�s holiday. Amount of packing completed: 0%. Packing�s boring, and requires me to decide what clothes to take based on my checking of the weather for the next five days on the BBC weather website. Also, I�m still not a-lovin� flying, despite everyone telling me that it�s the safest mode of transport there is. My German�s still rubbish too. I can�t even remember what the word for �big� is.

James is taking me to the post office tomorrow, as some mystery letter that requires a signature has turned up and been dispatched there as I wasn�t in. And because post offices believe that nobody actually goes to work and thus has opening hours from 6am to 11am, I shall have to get there for the crack of dawn, so that James has time to check that I haven�t packed anything illegal, laugh at my passport photo and then get us to the airport in time. I can�t believe he�s agreed to spend a whole week alone in my company; he�s bound to want to head butt me by the end of it.

Man, I should at least get my suitcase out and open on my bed. I�ll bring some photos of me grinning inanely back from Deutschland.

last - next