Design a site like this with
Get started

80’s Music, Immigrants & a Narcissistic Control Freak

Finally got my ass out of bed at 11.30am today, having only gotten 4 hours sleep during the night. Didn’t need to do much chores-wise as Bear is on early shifts and doesn’t move much in the evenings, so doesn’t make a mess. I put Spotify on before breakfast and have had outbreaks of finger drumming and air guitaring all afternoon… it’s weird how your opinion of 80’s music changes when you’re bopping along to it, singing all the lyrics and head banging.

I finally found the familial connection between me and the guy from Massachusetts… took hours of researching every line of his family tree to suddenly discover everyone had congregated in Canada in the early 1800’s and gone from there… in my case, my lot buggered off to Canada, which is understandable when you live in Lincolnshire, and began building houses and schools and probably bars all over the place and marrying other immigrants and spreading the wealth.

Then at some point, a relative of mine married a relative of his, decided to move to the good ol’ U.S of A. and Voilà! fourth cousins… I’ve sent all the research I did to him, as he knew very little about his family and I’m a bit of an old hand at tracking down evasive family members. He’s a lucky man, his great, great grandmother is still alive. She was born in 1924… that’s some good genes.

My son, through the bollocks talking, informed me that his father is asking after him and making tentative moves to regain contact. He’s not sure he wants to though, which is fine with me, as his father is a manipulative narcissist, who controls people with emotional blackmail, intimidation and threatened violence. He treated me and my kids like shit for years. I walked away, and it was only last year that he decided he didn’t want to be bothered with his kids anymore, so told our eldest son he was out on the streets at the beginning of September, having bled him dry financially.

Bear and I, and my parents helped him out and got him a flat, while he got himself a new job and found someone to help him move out of his Dad’s… and he’s doing really well on his own. It’s stressful as he has to budget for all the bills and utilities, and it’s not easy when you’re a single guy, but he’s doing it himself and standing on his own two feet. Which his father hates. So now he wants to make contact again… I don’t need to warn my son of the consequences of doing it, he knows only too well and it’s his choice.

Tonight is Italian night, with courgette and tomato gratin and Italian seasoned baked cod for dinner. Then an episode each of Star Trek: Voyager, Jessica Jones and You.


Nationally Syndicated Editorial Cartoonist

A Family History in Letters

Letters from the women in my family to their mothers from 1910-1980.

What I found

The art of losing

The Belfast Belter

The Life and Times of a retired Soldier, Boxer, Pilot, Husband, Father and Grandfather

Reading Between The Lies

tales of untruths

Shine My Way

My adventures in trail running and awkward socials

Arts & Literature

A site by Clemens P. Suter

%d bloggers like this: