When will she ever learn that I will not, repeat not, ever be going to my brother’s house at xmas. Having said that, I would, in certain circumstances, if it made her happy in her last years. The reason it won’t happen is that he is a sanctimonious person who thinks that everyone else should apologise to him whilst he can do and say what he thinks regardless.
When will they learn that repeating a lie over and over again does not make it the truth. In ‘When Will They Ever Learn #1′ I said that one of my grandchildren had called ‘their other grandfather’ pervy. Those were the exact words yet the xDiL is telling her children that I called her father a paedophile and that I am evil.
I suggest that those who distort the facts are the evil one’s and will pay £100 to anyone who can find the word paedophile in ‘When Will They Ever Learn #1′
Oh, and before anyone suggests it, the article is exactly as it was written and has only been edited when I changed PFD to xDiL as a small conciliatory gesture.
It seems to me that she ‘protesteth too much’ and that I have hit a raw nerve. Who knows? It certainly makes one think, doesn’t it? And while we are on this subject what inference can we put on ‘dirty old man’? This is what she was calling me (and telling the children) before I retaliated.
Seems that some people think they can say what they want and we all should just meekly take it. Well, it doesn’t work like that. What she says is, as usual, based on lies. What I say is based on truth as told to me.
The most important thing parents have to do is to raise their children to adults without screwing them up. What happens to children especially those under ten, because that’s the most impressionable age, stays with them for the rest of their lives.
My father had two brothers and one day way back in the mists of time there was a fall out. His middle brother fell out with the eldest and from that day on there was no contact between them or their mother. I had cousins that I never knew about and always regretted that because our family was not very big and I had no other cousins. I always thought that family feuds like this are silly and should be solved, until now.
My brother David is ten years younger than me and he fell out with both myself and my son four or five years ago over very little indeed.
I said in an earlier entry ‘Remembering Grandfather #2′ that my parents had no respect for my grandfather and used to upset me as an 8 year old with their disparaging comments and put downs. I took him as I found him and he was good to me.
I remember him with affection and deeply regret not contacting him in his last years. Now I’m a grandfather and the same thing’s happening to me.
I only knew one grand father. My father’s father left when he was three years old so I never knew him. My mother’s father on the other hand was a very different kettle of fish or perhaps I should say ‘pot ‘n pan’. That comes about because my parents would always say ‘Here comes the old pot ‘n pan, turning up like a bad penny.’ (more…)
My grand mother Ethel, was born in Gateshead, Co Durham in 1895. She was the youngest of six with three sisters and two brothers, or should I say half brothers and sisters. This wasn’t discovered until many years later. Her mother, Sarah Sandercock (nee Lythgo) was married to George Sandercock a seafarer who was lost at sea a couple of years before she was born.
Lawrence Alfred Copeland, my maternal grandfather, was born in 1885, the son of a coalminer in the Doncaster area of Yorkshire. At the age of 15 he was working as a colliery yard labourer but quite wisely decided that ‘going down ‘t pit was not for him.
When my father died in May 1996 at the age of 81 it came as a shock. He didn’t look as if he was that age more like mid seventies. It was also almost a shock that he was actually that age. I can still see him in my mind when he came back from WW2 as a youthful 30 year old.