I’m sorry if I haven’t written a great deal on my blog during the last few days, but things have been a bit crazy. Father’s absences from the home continue to mystify Mother and it makes the whole atmosphere rather poisonous to say the least.
I can report that I took a day’s annual leave yesterday so that Mother and could bond over a lovely coach trip to sunny Eastbourne. We boarded our luxury Setra triple axel coach outside the library and journeyed in comfort to the south coast. We brought a Tupperware container full of hard boiled eggs and were able to eat them in the comfort of the cafeteria at the motorway services. A man wearing a nylon tracksuit tried to befriend us whilst we were strolling along the promenade, the strange thing is that he was one of the coach party. He very soon realised that when Mother and I say ‘no’ that we really mean it and the next thing we saw was him trying to build a sandcastle using a plastic trowel and a chipped mug.
We went home where I wrote the first draft of this post. At 9pm two police officers turned up at the door. I’m too upset to continue writing at this present, but sufficed to say that these are the bleakest days the Weaver household has ever had to contend with since my paternal Great-grandfather tried to avoid conscription by sailing out onto the Solent on a makeshift raft. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful in his quest as they captured him and he later faced a firing squad.
No comments:
Post a Comment