Screw you world.
Okay, so not so much a note as a few words.
Today I woke up, topped up the windscreen washer fluid, got my step-father and went to get my sister to head to York for grand father’s funeral, then the brother in law decided to come, fine. Set off for the two hour journey and every few minutes it was, ‘daddy’ (for my step-father’s attention) or ‘Sven’ (for me, obviously) with rambling inane questions and statements.
Got to the crematorium in plenty of time, got the lay of the land, spoke to the Royal Air Force Association rep who was going to escort the hearse in with the RAF banner and Union Flag over the coffin. All going fine, avoided the aunt and her spawn who made my mum’s life hell for years while my grand father lived with us for 15 years. He didn’t want to speak to her, she took it out on my mum thinking she was keeping him away from her, meanwhile he was wanting kept away from her and mum was getting the fallout.
Time for the eulogise, everyone patting themselves on the back for looking after him while he lived with us the last 15 years, how they all visited him and how he made their lives meaningful, etc... he died nearing a year to the month of being diagnosed with vascular dementia. In the eulogise there was no mention of us looking after him for 15 years but how they looked after him after mum died (because apparently, after mum died, there was no one to look after him. Ye’, expect me and my step-father who had done so for all those years), oh, they looked after him, for 15 DAYS and put him in a care home. Lots of patting on backs of how they visited him every day, then other day, then week.
One track they played after the crematorium that made me smile because my mum loved it too was Franck Pourcel’s, Concorde. Which starts with the sound of a Concorde and her beautiful Rolls Royce/Snecma Olympus593 engines taking off. Apparently during his last few days, it was the only thing that would make him smile.
Here’s a good one for you all. My mum was send back to the U.K. from Cyprus when she was a late teenager as she developed an allergy from something while in Cyprus. Now her mother was in the U.K. but wasn’t well so my mum stayed with her aunt and uncle. Grand father learned that my mum had met a young lad, but my grand father was out at RAF Akrotiri in Cyprus and didn’t know anything of the lad, so he grabbed a lift from an AVRO Vulcan bomber crew who were coming back to the U.K., just so he could check this guy out. Lol.
Anyway, eulogy, no mention of us other than my mum was his daughter and she had passed away. So we got back into the car and headed home, two more hours in the car with my sister’s inane talking. When she got out the car. I said to my step-father, ‘I’m glad it’s all over’, he said, ‘what’s that lad?’. I replied, ‘Kerry’s voice’. Lol.
Add to it all it’s Brexit Day today, we’re now in the 12 months of negotiations and deals stage. Thanks to those Brexit racist idiots who voted to leave and the elderly lot who won’t live to see the true fallout.
I didn’t and still don’t want it, but it’s here so lets get it over with and move on with our lives.
So a few McDonalds okay-ish burgers and a bottle of Teeling Single Grain should hopefully get me through the night. If not, well, I don’t really care, I really sodding don’t.
One Big Mac, two Grand Big Macs, large fries and a Spicy Chicken Legend.
Right then you horrible lot. Squad, Squad shun, to your duties, fall out.