I had just finished a mini rant about my father to my mother.
We were alone in the kitchen, everybody else was in the front room.
G and I had travelled up for the 70th Birthday party of my Uncle Pat.
I liked Pat, in fact I quite liked all the Uncles on my mothers side.
They had that down to earth quality of being able to see through all the bullshit, all pretence and just get on with it.
The only Uncle that was missing was Brian.
He was a good man, My Uncle Brian.
I even idolised him a little when I was growing up.
He had died two years previously, which was the last time that the whole family had been together.
My mother never talks about her childhood, only when she is together with her brothers.
And from what info I can gleam, it was not a happy one.
The Father, my grandfather, I get the impression was a bit of a bastard.
A drunk who was liked to hit his kids.
By the name of Patrick.
Anyway, I had finished my little rant.
My mother, looked at me while taking a drag on her cigarette.
''Well you have got 'G' now, and me and Jason. Don't worry about
it''.
And she is right.
http://bloggitygoodness.blog.ca
15/05/07 @ 16:52