Imelda is having a right whinge and not a word of thanks.

9th September 2013

4 weeks and one day 

The shoe issue is getting ridiculous

Today was a busy day.  I started college again for the term for year two of the carpentry course. We had the talk about how we can't be late, how to fill in the grant application forms and how we have to have 90% attendance.  We are not allowed to leave early as we have to accept the work ethic where you have to start on time and finish on time or you will not keep a job.  There are two routes in the carpentry course you can take on year two, bench joinery or site carpentry.  Bench joinery is in the warm workshop, paying attention to detail and using all the power tools :).   Site work is on site in the cold and wet, often high up and you need to lug heavy wood and doors etc. Site work is very physical work and ideally you need to be a big, beefy, young bloke.  I am neither big, beefy or a bloke although of course I am young...  The idiots have put me down for site carpentry.

I grabbed the tutor at break.  I told him I was going to prove the exception to his rules (all of them) I will be late every day as I have to take three kids to school.  I have a mountain to climb and so just maybe if I have the offer of help then I will likely not make 90% as I will have to go mountaineering.  I am not interested in learning work ethics as I am the ONLY one on the course who has a job then I don't need to be taught the obvious.  For this reason also I will be leaving early most days.  Also I am not going to fill in their 20 page grant form as I was the only one last year who did not qualify for a grant and so won't bother applying this year either.  I will pay for my own rubber chips and chewy beans at lunch time.

Before he could think of a reply I pointed out this was how it was last year and I passed year one with a distinction.  Not much he could say to that other than he was glad I did not say it in front of the class.

I am hoping I will be in the same class as the girls from last year.  I really cannot tolerate bollock-scratching teenage boys who communicate with a series of grunts.  I do not have time for them.  Nor do I have time for one of the skanky girls on the course.  She turns up looking like Worzel Gummage on a bad day with her hair in dreadlocks, complete, I suspect, with nesting mice and wearing a coat discarded by Compo.  How surprising she can't get a job!  When we are told we need to give £5 for a locker key deposit she pipes up that she won't get her benefit until three weeks Thursday so she has no money.  She says she needs a locker as she is not carrying her boots for an hour on the bus.  It has to be pointed out to her that perhaps wearing them may be an option.  Then at break time she goes out for a smoke - which of course she does have money for.  Call me intolerant but seriously I am supposed to integrate with these people.

So anyway we all did the assessments and were allowed home at 12pm.  Home on the motorbike, the first time I have ridden it for a month, change, grab a banana and a Kit Kat, jump in Oggy and head for the mountain.

Arrive at the mountain at 1pm and get stuck in.  The dog runs out of the house and goes for a rather urgent wee on the grass.  I then realise he has a gippy tummy and is trying to wipe a cling-on off.  Ewww.  I take the IKEA bags inside and get stuck in with the clearing.  I find another 5 shoes.  So far we have a large tower of shoes.  Last count there were 119 shoes only 34 of these could be sorted into 17 pairs.  Seriously the old stick would give Imelda Marcos a run for her money.  I thought my boot collection was excessive!  Today I found 7 more shoes.  I flexed one and the sole snapped it had been there so long.  Another shoe had actually been repaired at one point in its life. WHY?  I found hundreds of tissues all either used or scrunched up - the serviette and napkin types.  I filled eleven green bags full of old newspapers dated back to 1996.  I found two share certificates for companies I had never heard of.  I found 13 odd socks, 3 wooly hats, some scraggy underpants, lots of coins from 1p to £2 and a few shillings and pesetas for good measure.  I found 2 ten franc notes and a book of first class stamps.  There was so much dust I was sneezing in batches of 13 at a time (the rumours about sneezing 13 times in one go are not true!).  I did have a full industrial dust mask on as well.

The rain held off in the afternoon and the sun came out so I could sort in the garden.  Odd - the rain was pouring down this morning.  I get the impression someone is watching out for me.  I seem to be able to get friends who volunteer help when I need it.  The weather always holds off while I sort no matter what the forecast is.  I have got a sense of determination that this will not beat me.  I am not sure where this came from as it would have beaten many people.  I suspect my mother may have something to do with it.  My poor mother passed away with suspected Alzheimers disease exactly nineteen years ago today.  I now suspect there was much more to it than that.  She was in a mental hospital for a fair few years before she died.  If I had to live in that house I would be in a mental hospital within a very short space of time.

At 6.30pm I had to leave because the skip closes at 6.45.  I filled Oggy with 13 green bags, bits of wood, bits of glass, an old beige hand basin, jars of some sort of paint, boxes, old bottles, souvenirs covered in dust, 3 shoes and an old stool.  I got to the skip, parked up and a little skip man appeared.  He asked me if I wanted a hand.  I declined as I enjoy the strange satisfaction I get from lobbing a full bag over the edge of the skip and watching it disappear for ever, then the noise it makes when it hits the bottom.  Little skip man says 'you have been working hard haven't you?'  I explained the situation.  He has seen the TV hoarding programes.  He thought they were set up.  Sadly no, it is true.  I carry on throwing the bags into the skip and he helps me with the sink.  I hear it crash into the bottom of the skip.  We both smile.  'See you soon' I say.

He smiles and says he will see me tomorrow.

Home, a bite and a wash and then off to the hospital for 7.20.  Imelda is sitting up in bed.  He is cross because 'Scary Mary' the social worker has not been to see him.  I told him she had called me at the house.  He wanted to know what the hell the hold up was as he couldn't possibly sort things out while he was incarcerated in there. He appears to think he will be out on Wednesday.  I am not going to argue with him.  This seems unlikely.  He really does not appear to see the five foot walls of junk in the house as an issue.  He tells me he does not want me to touch the living room.  I agree not to.  This will be interesting.

A reminder of what it looks like...

Imelda has another whinge about him being stuck in there.  I think of saying he is in hospital not in jail but I then decide better of it.  I do not want to be putting ideas in his head.  I tell him I have been in the house for five hours today.
He says 'Yes I know you have been there a lot'.
I say 'I am absolutely worn out.  I have been working so very hard'
he says nothing. No sympathy, no 'I understand' not even a 'How's it going?' and definitely, positively, no thanks at all.
He says 'A doctor, some female, came to see my ears today.  She gave me some drops'.
It grinds on me that he refers to her as 'a female'.  I don't know anyone else ever who says this.  Usually people would say 'a lady doctor' or even 'a woman doctor' but never ever 'some female'.  It really is very sexist and it annoys the hell out of me.

I decide after an hour that it is time to leave.  He doesn't thank me for coming nor does he thank me for bringing the post or cleaning the house or being the daughter he feels he is entitled to have.  He asks if I will phone after the social worker has called me.  I tell him the social worker will update him.  I stand to leave.  Again, hoping for the sympathy vote or some form of gratitude for my six hours graft today I get up looking as knackered as I can muster and let out a huge sigh.  Truly a performance worthy of an Oscar!
My mindblowing performance goes right over the top of his head with a huge 'whoosh'. 'Will you be in tomorrow?' he says hopefully.
'No dad, I have college all day and work in the evening'.
'Oh yes' he says 'so I can phone you when you get home in the evening?;
'No dad I don't finish until eleven so don't phone.' This is a lie, I finish at 9.30 and if he ever listened to me he would know this but he doesn't.  I don't want to speak to him tomorrow.

I smile to myself at my mate's suggestion of a solution to this mess.
'Get him a BIGGER ladder for his birthday' she said.

It is a thought...