Tuesday, 6 December 2016

John’s Polite Response



Mother,

Well I have to say you took a good two weeks to get around to answering my email. I’m well aware that the only reason you replied at all is because Aunt Bess TOLD you to, in a phone call where (if the facts relayed to me are accurate) you started blubbing and later Aunt Bess got a call from your husband berating her for upsetting you…even though it’s none of his business.

That aside.

I’m glad you’ve finally swallowed your ego enough to actually reply to what was, let’s face it, a warts ‘n’ all account of your rather wretched behavior over the preceding decades. You raised several points in your reply which I would like to address.

1). You used the phrase “I thought I was doing a good job” a total of three times during your missive. While I could possibly accept this for some of your actions over the years it’s hard to believe that you genuinely believe that in light of some of your more grotesque behaviour. For example:

a). Saying “I wish one of them would die when I’m at work so I could have a day off” a total of SEVEN times over 3 days just while I was around (and I don’t think for a moment that you only did it in front of me) after my paternal grandmother passed away while we were on our holybobs. I was 17, my sister was 14 and Dad had just found out his mother had died. To refresh your memory, when I finally worked up the courage to criticize you for doing this, you glared at me and snapped “I work very hard in my job John and I can’t take a day off when I WANT to!”

b). Hiding the value brand Orange and Cherry soda under the stairs during my sister’s 11th birthday party. Your reasoning for this was that “She’s had quite enough already” so you made her and her friends sip orange squash instead. Despite what you might claim now this wasn’t an attempt to be thrifty, it was simply you proving to everyone that you had absolutely no idea.

c). Buying me sandals for school when I was 12 which had been out of fashion amongst my peers since they were about 8. You gave an uncharacteristic and spontaneous apology in front of witnesses for your little faux pas and were clearly (for once) in acceptance of your mistake. However when I then asked you to buy me a new pair (which would have cost about ten pounds) you blustered and flapped your hands around and asked the assembled witnesses if they’d “heard what John JUST said?!!” before telling me that no you couldn’t buy me another pair and I’d just have to wear them until the winter (and then asked everyone for a second time if they’d heard what I’d said). Bottom line….despite the bullying I suffered as a result of you not wanting to spend another tenner to prevent this from happening…it was yet another opportunity to prove to the world just how poor you were since your father kicked you out of school at 16.

Which brings me on to…

2). You actually had the temerity to state in your letter that I had never listened “with empathy” to you moaning and whingeing about working as a waitress for 15 years after your father refused to let you take your O levels because he said he couldn’t afford it and then went on a safari holiday.
You were upper middle class and suddenly had to do a job that you considered beneath your social status.
Boo! Hoo!
My “lack of empathy” is clearly something the Guinnness Book of Records should be informed about because you used to bring this subject up at EVERY Sunday family dinner (and like Groundhog Day, would somehow forget that we’d heard it verbatim, ad nauseum before). You also used to, like a tiresome Christian working Jesus into every argument, find ways to compare nearly everything that came up in discussion, to your time waiting tables from 1961 to 1976. This includes (but is not limited to): An episode of the sitcom Hi-De-Hi; a TV showing of the film Jane Eyre; a story I told you of a friend of mine bullied out of his job (quote “shouldn’t have had so much pride should he? Should have put up with it. Like I had to”); and last but not least my first day at University where, over a celebratory pie & chips in the pub near my hall of residence…you fixed me with a hurt look and said “You see why I get so angry now? My father wouldn’t let me have this opportunity?”

3). In your reply you claimed that you were always generous to me and my sister and even quoted a few examples. The fact you have kept a tally on your “generosity” ironically further illustrates just how skewed your grasp of reality actually is. Quickest way to remind you of your duck’s bottom, tight fistedness would be the following examples of what I got from you for birthdays and/or Xmases as a kid.

1978 birthday- 5th hand bicycle from a time when they were “built to last” so you wouldn’t have to buy me another one for at least five more years.
1981- birthday- joint party with a friend of you and my father, whose birthday was the same day as mine. This was a weekend of you lot getting drunk, me and my sister getting sent to bed at 10pm, and the “joint” party being nothing of the sort. To rub salt in it, when we got back on the Sunday you sent me and my sister to bed early due to our “fun and exciting weekend” (true quote) which had "tired us out". Just before I went to bed in tears,  you summoned me up to your room to be given my afterthought…sorry, present which you hadn’t even been bothered to wrap up.
1982- Xmas. Nothing….as I’d had a big present “for birthday AND Xmas”.
1984- Xmas. Every Chrimbo up to this one, me and my sister would open our presents in her room. A lovely bit of sibling bonding that had become a ritual. Without preamble on this Xmas, you hid mine and my sister’s prezzies in your room and said the next morning “it’s so we get to see your faces as you open them”. You negated this lie a couple of weeks later by saying after 2 glasses of wine that you resented being woken up at 3am every 25th of December and this year were determined to get a good night’s sleep.
1987 birthday- Cheap hairdryer which I specifically told you I didn’t want, as a barrier to me borrowing yours any more.
1991 Xmas- Cheque for twenty pounds (after promising me thirty) as you had been “too busy” to go out and actually buy me something.

I could go on but it’s depressing just typing this stuff. You get the picture.

4). Final point I want to bring up (as I am losing the will to live about now) is that you said that you believe my father is the real reason I don’t speak to you any more and that he “turned me against you”. Dad was never anything except nice to you; stood back and watched you mistreat me and my sister; always backed you up; never said a bad word about you behind your back; and NEVER once hit you (despite receiving provocation that would have led me to shoot you and bury your body in the woods). You have previously verbalized the conspiracy theory that Dad turned me against you by appearing “nice”. I think this inbred theory went something along the lines of Dad suppressing his true, horrible emotions and putting on a placid, eager-to-please façade in order to make everyone pity him, so that in 27 years he would get all the sympathy when you finally split up. I think this also ties into that time you said “He doesn’t love me. He just wants to keep me around so he’ll have someone to talk to when he’s old as he can’t make friends very easily”.

Basically you haven’t addressed anything I said and have yet again retreated into your comforting little shell of being totally devoid of responsibility for anything you ever did. Once more, I predict you’ll take certain things out of context to suit your own agenda so I again offer you option b.

Option B.

Fuck off you old cow.

Yours truly

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John

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