Fun fer all

Due to someone busting my chops this is a rough draft.......

The day of the funeral, what a scorcher.

It was a bit of a giggle to be honest. I don't mean that it was a jolly day out for all the family it wasn't like going to the circus or anything, can't recommend it as a must do on a weekend type thing, but it wasn't bad.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rx-4CiBmIPY" loop="true" >
It was nice to dress up for a change, traditional attire black tie suit and fuck me the thing still fits, bargain, would have been so upset if I had to buy a fat bastard suit.

Spent the day looking for a mule !!!! I kid you not a frigging mule. The shoe not a half breed combo you understand. The missus wanted a pair of shoes from the attic, so up I go. The description I had was vague to say the least. A black shoe with a thing across the front it has a heel. Woman know the difference between shoes they know a flip flop from a sandal, they know a stiletto from a high heel, they know these things, fook knows how they know they just do. I on the other hand haven't a scooby doo. So there I am, in a hot attic on a hot day in the near fooking dark hunting a mule - Elmer fucking Fudd I shit you not, a hunting mules we a go. "Is it this one" - I yell four times before she hears me, sweat is dripping in places, sweat shouldn't be. "No, that's a sandal", "this one" - "nooooo" after several attempts she's getting the hump I'm getting the foooking hump. In our attic there are bags and bags of crap, all back bags all tied all full of shite, "this one....." "no, oh for gods sakes a foooking mule has a black thing on the front opened..." fuck me she's off on one, I block her noise out, hmmm a book I haven't read for a while, I sit down on a bag of crap and thumb through it, sitting in the dimly lit space of the roof reading about north American Indians - red skins - native Americans whatever they call themselves these days, I thought this would be nice I could live up here. She's still babbling on about mules the kids are screaming, so yes I'm going to live in the attic. Might be cold in the winter and at night and hot in the summer, might be a bit smelly, but, yes livable. I can make a little hatch in the girls room and in the evening pop my head out and bid them goodnight another one in the loo to do my business, I'll have to be a good shot but it is a workable idea. I'll have to change the 5 watt lamp in there but hay not too bad. I'll have my own little Basher pad.
Back to reality how long could I sit in the semi darkness reading old books and living of spiders, not long I bet. So back to the mule hunting but by now we both knew it was a futile attempt, the sparkle had gone the fizz had popped, it was as flat as a witches tit. "Isss this the one.....", "no, that's a lamp !!!!!" "fuck it go bare foooking foooted" I scream - that's it now world war foooking 3, 4 and fooking 5 is going to happen....
Sitting in the dark awaiting the volley of abuse..... Still waiting.....Silence...... I'm getting scared now...... "OK" came the reply ....... And that was it, shit now what is she going to slap me when I descend. No bet she kicks the steps away as I'm teetering on the top. I carefully make my way to the hatch. I peer down into the light. Nothing. I retreat to my hiding place. What now. If I find the shoes all will be well. I look around the gloom bags and bags of crap. Who am I kidding.... Sod it bite the bullet. I peer out. Nobody is about. It's quiet too quiet. All I need now is a fooking tumble weed and a church bell.
I step onto the steps, then quickly off. Looking down, nothing. Step out again then another. Still same gravity must be turned off. Finally hitting terra firma. I peer around the doorway into our bedroom........

"I've got you a shirt. I'll iron it in a minuet. The kids are already......." Fook me who's this woman in front of me. Bet she's got a knife or a bat or a bat with a knife attached under the pillow.... Nothing I've cracked it - I'm immune - I'm a god - all these years and all I had to do was wait until the old dear had popped her clogs and bingo bango immunity.

We, well Allyson asked her mate to drop us over the old fellas house. She has a 7 seater and to be honest waiting for taxis just don't need it, especially today. What a foooking disaster, she, Pauline, arrived 45 minutes early - with her kid, like it was a fooking day out for them, then all she done was moan. Bad back, knees hurting bitching about her other children - she's one of those people if your cat was on fire her house would/was/has been in a, I don't know - a volcano - whatever you have she's either had better or is going to have better soon. She's about 50 with shoulder length mousy brown hair which always looks greasy she has the reddest face - ever, she's as skinny as a Peter Stringfellows thong and just about as appealing and she looks smelly - she's not, but by fuck she looks it. But she's Allys mate so bite my tongue , hard. Oh and she has this annoying habit of saying "and how's Bishop?" in a condinsending way, (every time I have seen her after the funeral she asks about my dad, she's never met him - the woman irks me gggrrrrrr)
We piled into this 7 seater. The boot has less room than our bluemobile, we had to squash the double buggy in, Pauline stood there with a face like a slapped ass, telling us that Jess isn't strapped in and how I've got to get into the back of the car. Bite harder....
I'm stuck in the fooking back with Keria, it's got about as much room as a fat lads lunch box. My knees are up by my chin, or should that be my chins are down by my knees I can't move a fooking muscle - Paulines yelling put your seat belt on put your seat belt on - FUCK OFF. I'm, going to bite my tongue in half.... I'm suited and booted crammed in a car which is fooooking boiling, I'm sweating like Elvis. I can't move my legs. Limited movement full stop. And she's giving me shite. Bite harder......

I try to look at the time but there's no room - even my eye balls are cramped - 13:18. Ok so we're going to be a little late, she pulls off OK, she drives to her house gets out and goes inside - Rose her little pale faced fat little fucker decides to undo her seatbelt and start to get out of the car. Allyson decides to walk to the end of the road and get some stuff for the kids and a packet of smokes for me (but she doesn't tell me this until later, a surprise she says) I sat in a black suit and tie surrounded by children, who are squabbling. In a foooking hot car, the two adults have both just baled out and left me with 4 children one of which gives me the creeps (Rose by the way) I'm sat there thinking what the fuck is going on....

Pauline returns to the car and I inform her Allyson has just walked to the shop. Instead of driving toward the shop we just sit there and wait. I'm getting a bit miffed now I explain as we have to drive past the shop should we go and pick Ally up outside - off we go pulling behind a lorry and about 5 cars. Ally can't see us. I have to tell Pauline to get out of the car and get her. Off we go again..... Tounge's hanging off.

-----------------------

The funeral cars arrived and it was another semi strange experience. Nobody knew what to do which car to get into so we're all just stood around, looking like gormless twats in dark suits sweating. We final decided who goes where we load the double buggy - but no it won't fit in the boot. For a large car there's no fooking boot space, I suggest we slip it in with the old dear - not that she'll mind but we decide to put it in passenger seat of the other car. When I go I'm going to have a coffin strapped to a Robin Reliants roof rack, fuck all this shite.

At the crematorium the cars pull around to the front of the (what is it it's not a church?) building. And do you know what I think I reconside about 3 people. We went in after the coffin. Took our seats a few people patted me on the back not in a congratulations way but one of condonances. The vicar, priest whoever the fook he was stood up in front and spoke, with a lisp, a fooking lisp vicar "and sho we shend mishes bashew to......." Fook me I pissed my panties..... Not only did he have a lisp he also had my sisters name wrong........ Which he kept repeating over and over again.......

May be we were at the wrong fooking do......

She had a good send off.

It needs work but as I said it's a rough cut...... (It'll probably stay like this for, well ever !!!!)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rx-4CiBmIPY" loop="true" >

Little Basher was born today at 15:35 approx........... A girl :0)

Mum died last night at 21:15........... Found out about a hour ago.

Rest in piece mam.

Well we're nearly there.....Found out last night that the old dears in hospital - again, she was rushed in at 06:00. It was lucky we popped over, my sister said she had been trying to contact me.
Apparently the old fella was unable to wake her on the morning so they called an ambulance. The doctors were also unable to wake her and the next 48 hour are critical. She's a bit of a wineo my old Mam likes the oldBacardi - large - virtually neat.
She's been drinking for years, when I was a kid she used to send me over to the little paki shop in Symes Avenue to get her hooch, she'd always tell me to keep quiet and not to tell Dad. I hated it. Not because of the lying, so much but I was always worried the shop owner wouldn't serve me and how embarrassed I would be. And to some extent I think I didn't want to let her down. I was about 10 years old, might have been a bit older. I feel guilty for all the times I covered for her. Who knows she might have never got this bad if I'd told someone. But now, now with the foresight ofa 32 year old I know it's not my fault. But I get angry because I shouldn't feel guilt. But I do. Then I get annoyed with her. She shouldn't have put me in that situation and even now it seems as though through her drinking it's effecting not only her but everyone around her. It is so selfish. And for that I get angry with her, but, then I step back and realise it's nother fault she's an addict. Then guilt sets in.
So now I'm just waiting for a phone call.
We had planned for the old man to look after the children whilst we are in hospital but due to the unforeseen incident, we have had to go to plan B -unfortunately plan B was not even a plan, to be honest not even a B. So being the quick thinking individuals we are we came up with a plan. Then changed that plan. Then changed again I think we are on plan x at the moment, but it's all good. Allys mate is going to come down from Swindon and look after the little ones.This is a prime example of how her "problem" effects everyone. The friend had to make arrangements for her own children to be cared for and it's a knock on effect. It pisses me off. But I suppose it has taken my mind off the forthcoming event..... Angry again !!!!

Had one of the strangest conversation with a fella today. He's a bit of a geek, not in brains but of looks he works in finance, his name is Rob.
Everytime he walks by he waves. The boy is odd.

Rob walks through the turnstile :- "dlkldmkkvm refmpm"
I look vaguely at him : "Pardon?"
Rob : "Thursday..."
Me : "No mate it's Monday..."
Rob waving his arms around : "You can't see them....."
I look at him puzzled : "Eh?.... See what, you alright?"
Rob waving his arms franticly : "Them. Them"
I'm getting worried : "OK.... !!!!???"
Rob getting more animated : "You can't see them"
I'm looking more perplexed : "See what mate?"
Rob : "See them.......See them"
I look at him blankly....Then look in the direction his skinny little armsare waving in.
Rob : "This conversations going around in circles...."
Me : "Eh? You started it."
Rob walks off to lunch : "............." mumbling

I find out later he was talking about some water we had delivered which was to the side of where I sit.

Two days to go.
Feeling a bit odd today, might have been the chicken I had last night. Not worried but this morning I had a few butterflies.
It's a funny feeling knowing that by 10:00 o'clock on Thursday, all being well a new person will be brought into this world, and my, what a strange concept it is.
To actually make a wee person, not to get to technical it all comes down to the strongest swimmer after looking at my other two I have to wonder what the weakest ones would have turned out like !!!!!
For the last couple of days it's been very hectic trying to clean the house arrange baby-sitters, taxis, washing the baby clothes entertain the other two but it has taken the "sting" out of the anticipation....
The house islooking like a - well, like a bomb site, we haven't managed to do half of what we wanted. But we'll get there - when it's 18 years old !!!!!
I know in my heart everything will be fine and we both will fall back in to the swing of things but you always have a niggling feeling that something will go wrong. What if the scrubs they give me are too tight? What happens if they ran out of sandwiches? What happens if the CD I take in can not be taken out when we leave I might forget, can I go back in whilst they're doing someone else? Where's Jessica and Shannons food?
I don't know what the other two will make off it all. They'll probably poke, pull and prod it until it's black and blue, making it wish it could craw back inside.
I can't imagine what it must be like for the millions of people who have the waiting around not knowing when their off spring will be sprung but I can tell you this, it'll drive me potty. I'm an impatient sort of fella and having to endure 34 hours of labour, with a screaming woman and having to be nice well fuck my old boots that drive me nuts, having said that if I had to go through that hell we might not have anymore children.....

A blessing in disguise???

Phew what a scorcher it's been.
Well as I sit here writing this I suddenly realise we have only 3 days, oh my god, 3 fooooking days.
It seems unreal. Then, all being well, we'll have another little Basher running around, eating, shitting and destroying everything in it's path. I say it because we still don't know what it'll be, my money is on a girl - again. Not disappointed don't get me wrong because the ones I have already are little - fuckers !!! Sorry little angles. As long as it's mine I'll be happy !!!!!!
The problem is we're running out off names - we try and pick names that will suit them through out their lives, you can't have a ninety year old woman called Star, nor can you have a baby called Agatha.
As well as finding a name for all ages we have to consider the rhymes, sticky Vicky, bendy Wendy, Anna the guana, smelly Kelly with a big fat belly, Lynn the bin who drinks gin and Kerry who is a short, fat, hairy fairy, so on so forth.
We also have to have the names which roll of the tongue but don't want it to roll to much - Sally Sander is just wrong.
And it has to go with the surname it'll be borderline abuse is you call the child Jack Keeler - no -might as well call him Frank Stein !!!
The other problem is finding a name that suits the person, I think of Emma as a blonde name, Carly as a dark name, Rosemary (which is just wrong) is definitely a ginge - oh the unfortunate ones - the gingers !!!! - Gods gonna get me for that one.....and change little eggbert into a ginger.
The other thing we consider is the "famous" names. I like the name Kylie but can't call the you un that because of the little aussie singer Minogue same as Bette - although I personally don't like the name but have ran out of examples, but again you get the idea.... Oh just though of another, no gone again, no it's back Robbie - that'll do.
And lastly we have to sift throught the names of people we know you can't have 2 children with the same name in the same family apparently I like thename Abigail but have a cousin called that so that's off the menu and ontop of all this you have to eliminate all the names that remind you of tossers, smelly people and the socially unexceptable no not gingers again but your mass murderers, kiddie fiddlers, rapist, politicians, biblical names, so what are you left with........Bob, that's what........ Fucking Bob - he who floats.......