Well that was a little odd, and not a little annoying. The person I should be ranting at is a) my mother and her sister for telling a load of old bollocks, and b) me, for believing them. Well mum, if you can't even remember where your husband's grave is, I've just about had it with bailing you out of silly situations. How small did you think I'd feel when it was pointed out to me that the grave wasn't where you had insisted it was, but three farther along? I do wonder whose grave really HAS disappeared in the gap that has appeared in the last year, but its not my father's, which is still there, covered in lichen. Friday's task, apart from ferrying said mother to another doctor's appointment after her self induced hospital stay, is evidently to visit said grave with a scrubbing brush and cleaning stuff and get the lichen off and drag you down there to show you.
And yes, the person who had the job of telling me my complaint (which I did fortunately state in very polite terms) was rubbish, is someone I vaguely know and respect, and no, I do not feel good about it. So mum, when Mrs W suggests you give her a cheque for a replacement drill for the one that gave out while drilling the holes for the keysafe on your wall, as my birthday present, you'd better cough. a) I'm spending my birthday on Friday running round after you instead of lounging in the pub for a leisurely and alcoholic lunch, and b) thanks to your completely avoidable silliness which got you into hospital, I won't be getting any of that inheritance you kept saying you'd kept for me, but refused to put in my care when I told you it would be a good idea to.
Moral of story, never believe what you mother tells you, even if you've been conditioned to do so all your life. When I have made my infrequent visits to said grave in years past, I've just wandered along until I found it. Because mum stated very clearly it was where the gap is, I foolishly believed her....
