176
R. Linda:
I must say, I be highly entertained by a friend of mine who goes through life usually without a problem in the world, except when it comes to his work. He be a workaholic and that subject is the only one he ever gets stressed of, except now he has another.
A little background. This man is originally from a northern English town called Iron Bridge. His family lived in one of the older more exclusive homes on the river (the area is known for the Severn Gorge in Shropshire. It boasts the first cast iron bridge structure that is generally considered the first bridge of its kind, spanning the River Severn, near Coalbrookdale, in Shropshire, England, thus the name). It is now a British national monument and tourist attraction (can you imagine bridge sightseeing?). The bridge's semicircular arch spans 100.5 feet and I be sure if me friend was there now, he'd be throwing himself off the thing. Of course, after he paid his fee to use it as a footbridge that is. Yes, it is no longer open to motorised traffic, but if you wish to cross it on foot, pay and over you go.
His old mother lived there in the family home by herself having been widowed when me friend was no more than 15. He and his sister were brought up in the house and he left to pursue his fortunes in London as a military career man. At this he did quite well for a number of years, until there was nowhere higher to attain. Evidentially when finished with service, once again he picked up to pursue further fortunes in the computer business (of which he excelled) in Toronto, Canada.
Meanwhile, his younger and only sister grew up with mumsie and there became a clerk for an engineering firm where she met her husband Clive. These two evidentially married and produced a daughter, one Lucille, Lulu for short. Clive, unfortunately died in auto accident the very thing that killed Lulu's mother's father. This strikes me, but coincidence does happen. Or as Tonya would say, "Lightning CAN strike twice."
Mumsie, daughter and daughter's daughter, LuLu, lived on in the old house man-less. I don't mean to jab fun but three generations of women living together is to meself a dangerous thing. It seems to breed either contempt in close quarters of each other, OR, it breeds sugary disregard for anyone outside the family. We can ascertain that a little of both existed in this particular instance.
A little about mumsie first. She, I understand ruled the roost with an iron fist until she passed away some six years ago. She left the bulk of her estate to who else? Her daughter, and a pittance to the over achieving son. Yet, she made it so in her will he had to fly over there to sort out her many assets, which vexed him no end, because as he tied up one loose end, he'd find yet another. These bonds were not willed to either son or daughter and so they were up for grabs. The amount of the bonds were too much for one to say to the other, "Hell, you take em', I don't care." No, no, they were of high amounts that made mumsie a secretly rich, rich mumsie.
This sorting about of monies, and legal manoeuvres between litigants, made the relationship between the two siblings, uh shall we say . . . strained? But it got sorted out and all was well, everyone a little more richer and that was that. No need for communication either, so sister went on to live in the big family house she had inherited, and brother left for Canada, his pockets quite a bit fuller than when he arrived.
All was well, no one bothered with anyone else and the years few by. UNTIL . . . Lulu reached the age of 17. Then the shite hit the fan. Miss Lulu turned out to be such a spoiled brat she decided that education wasn't important, that finding a man was, and did everything to get in trouble not stay out of it. This behaviour, as you can well understand, made the relationship between mother and Lulu, at odds to say the least.
Now let's get to it shall we? The meat of this background begins not so long ago. Miss Lulu came home from school one day with a sparkly stone in her right nostril (a rather large stone that is), and a giant tattoo of Monty Python's rabid rabbit down her arm and up her shoulder. Seems this last she was having secretly done and when it was complete, she threw off the long sleeved, high collared blouses she had taken to wearing, to tank tops that showed the whole extravaganza for the world and mother to see!
You might be able to take the sparkly stone from the nose, leaving a gapping third nostril hole, but you can't erase the tattoo of the gnarly and toothy tooth rabid rabbit. Oh my, tsk, tsk. After exclaiming, "What bollocks is this?" Mother finally realised she'd have to accept the permanent disfigurement because, let's face it, there was little she could do about it.
The koled eyes, the dyed black hair with magenta streaks, the fishnet stockings over the bleached white skin,the Victorian boots, the shorter than short black skin tight skirts, the ripped blousey blouse and the half strung scarlet bustier was basically the uniform of the newly fashioned Lulu. Mother must have bitten her nails to the quick and then started on shoving her fist down her throat to keep mum. You better believe it must have been at this debut that mother wished she had a better relationship with brother in Canada. I know I would.
The image I gave you here serves only to inspire your imagination at what capricious situations young Lulu got into. Staying out late, driving while intoxicated, running off, returning like it was her right to return, stealing money out of mother's unguarded purse, running up phone bills, stealing mother's auto, etc.
Young Lulu was in effect, running with the wrong crowd. For an under-aged girl to be dating school drop outs it was only a matter of time before she dropped out herself. Yet, mother found a way to get her accepted to a small college and so had paid it up for Lulu to board and learn some behaviour that behooved genteel little ladies, of which Lulu had sworn not to become, "EVER!!!"
Suddenly, there was a great change in Lulu, yes, she would go on up to school to further her education. A neat trick when you never finished your last year, but your mother had enough dough to bribe the academy. Off our Lulu went waving bye-d-bye to mother and into the taxi and off. Or so mother thought.
I wouldn't let out that sigh of relief so soon if I was mother. I would have wondered a few weeks prior why suddenly Lulu was being so pliant. Had she fallen on her head and had some kind of cranial bleed that effected her thinking? Was there a course in tattooing at the academy and mother overlooked it? Was it not a girls finishing school at all, but boys dressed in drag ready to free Lulu from the shackles of the better classes?
I don't know. All I know is our Lulu headed off happily, mother returned inside her home to kick back and fan herself in relief, and I be here thinking, what be wrong with this picture?
I'll tell you what be wrong with it. Only right now I need a bit of refreshment because me heart is racing in dread and me palms are sweaty, and I be missing the keys on me ever trusty keyboard, and I be shaking from the thought of what I have to tell you next. Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2006 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I must say, I be highly entertained by a friend of mine who goes through life usually without a problem in the world, except when it comes to his work. He be a workaholic and that subject is the only one he ever gets stressed of, except now he has another.
A little background. This man is originally from a northern English town called Iron Bridge. His family lived in one of the older more exclusive homes on the river (the area is known for the Severn Gorge in Shropshire. It boasts the first cast iron bridge structure that is generally considered the first bridge of its kind, spanning the River Severn, near Coalbrookdale, in Shropshire, England, thus the name). It is now a British national monument and tourist attraction (can you imagine bridge sightseeing?). The bridge's semicircular arch spans 100.5 feet and I be sure if me friend was there now, he'd be throwing himself off the thing. Of course, after he paid his fee to use it as a footbridge that is. Yes, it is no longer open to motorised traffic, but if you wish to cross it on foot, pay and over you go.
His old mother lived there in the family home by herself having been widowed when me friend was no more than 15. He and his sister were brought up in the house and he left to pursue his fortunes in London as a military career man. At this he did quite well for a number of years, until there was nowhere higher to attain. Evidentially when finished with service, once again he picked up to pursue further fortunes in the computer business (of which he excelled) in Toronto, Canada.
Meanwhile, his younger and only sister grew up with mumsie and there became a clerk for an engineering firm where she met her husband Clive. These two evidentially married and produced a daughter, one Lucille, Lulu for short. Clive, unfortunately died in auto accident the very thing that killed Lulu's mother's father. This strikes me, but coincidence does happen. Or as Tonya would say, "Lightning CAN strike twice."
Mumsie, daughter and daughter's daughter, LuLu, lived on in the old house man-less. I don't mean to jab fun but three generations of women living together is to meself a dangerous thing. It seems to breed either contempt in close quarters of each other, OR, it breeds sugary disregard for anyone outside the family. We can ascertain that a little of both existed in this particular instance.
A little about mumsie first. She, I understand ruled the roost with an iron fist until she passed away some six years ago. She left the bulk of her estate to who else? Her daughter, and a pittance to the over achieving son. Yet, she made it so in her will he had to fly over there to sort out her many assets, which vexed him no end, because as he tied up one loose end, he'd find yet another. These bonds were not willed to either son or daughter and so they were up for grabs. The amount of the bonds were too much for one to say to the other, "Hell, you take em', I don't care." No, no, they were of high amounts that made mumsie a secretly rich, rich mumsie.
This sorting about of monies, and legal manoeuvres between litigants, made the relationship between the two siblings, uh shall we say . . . strained? But it got sorted out and all was well, everyone a little more richer and that was that. No need for communication either, so sister went on to live in the big family house she had inherited, and brother left for Canada, his pockets quite a bit fuller than when he arrived.
All was well, no one bothered with anyone else and the years few by. UNTIL . . . Lulu reached the age of 17. Then the shite hit the fan. Miss Lulu turned out to be such a spoiled brat she decided that education wasn't important, that finding a man was, and did everything to get in trouble not stay out of it. This behaviour, as you can well understand, made the relationship between mother and Lulu, at odds to say the least.
Now let's get to it shall we? The meat of this background begins not so long ago. Miss Lulu came home from school one day with a sparkly stone in her right nostril (a rather large stone that is), and a giant tattoo of Monty Python's rabid rabbit down her arm and up her shoulder. Seems this last she was having secretly done and when it was complete, she threw off the long sleeved, high collared blouses she had taken to wearing, to tank tops that showed the whole extravaganza for the world and mother to see!
You might be able to take the sparkly stone from the nose, leaving a gapping third nostril hole, but you can't erase the tattoo of the gnarly and toothy tooth rabid rabbit. Oh my, tsk, tsk. After exclaiming, "What bollocks is this?" Mother finally realised she'd have to accept the permanent disfigurement because, let's face it, there was little she could do about it.
The koled eyes, the dyed black hair with magenta streaks, the fishnet stockings over the bleached white skin,the Victorian boots, the shorter than short black skin tight skirts, the ripped blousey blouse and the half strung scarlet bustier was basically the uniform of the newly fashioned Lulu. Mother must have bitten her nails to the quick and then started on shoving her fist down her throat to keep mum. You better believe it must have been at this debut that mother wished she had a better relationship with brother in Canada. I know I would.
The image I gave you here serves only to inspire your imagination at what capricious situations young Lulu got into. Staying out late, driving while intoxicated, running off, returning like it was her right to return, stealing money out of mother's unguarded purse, running up phone bills, stealing mother's auto, etc.
Young Lulu was in effect, running with the wrong crowd. For an under-aged girl to be dating school drop outs it was only a matter of time before she dropped out herself. Yet, mother found a way to get her accepted to a small college and so had paid it up for Lulu to board and learn some behaviour that behooved genteel little ladies, of which Lulu had sworn not to become, "EVER!!!"
Suddenly, there was a great change in Lulu, yes, she would go on up to school to further her education. A neat trick when you never finished your last year, but your mother had enough dough to bribe the academy. Off our Lulu went waving bye-d-bye to mother and into the taxi and off. Or so mother thought.
I wouldn't let out that sigh of relief so soon if I was mother. I would have wondered a few weeks prior why suddenly Lulu was being so pliant. Had she fallen on her head and had some kind of cranial bleed that effected her thinking? Was there a course in tattooing at the academy and mother overlooked it? Was it not a girls finishing school at all, but boys dressed in drag ready to free Lulu from the shackles of the better classes?
I don't know. All I know is our Lulu headed off happily, mother returned inside her home to kick back and fan herself in relief, and I be here thinking, what be wrong with this picture?
I'll tell you what be wrong with it. Only right now I need a bit of refreshment because me heart is racing in dread and me palms are sweaty, and I be missing the keys on me ever trusty keyboard, and I be shaking from the thought of what I have to tell you next. Oi!
Gabe
Copyright © 2006 All rights reserved
