Eleven things I would really like to say

This post contains writing of a rantie auntie nature. There is a lot of swearing in it, even for me. You've been warned.

PS - if you're new here, I am a self confessed passive aggressive with a bit of a martyr complex, I think things, seethe about things and then eventually blog about them. This post is a classic example. There is a whiff of self pity and a dose of the "Poor me's" about it too.

At your own risk.

To the repair garage when they phoned me yesterday
Give me back my fecking car.

I am extremely cross that you have had my car for 10 days now and it's only today you're telling me you're still waiting for paint. The missing part of the paintwork is less than the size of a 10p piece. I hate the Fiesta you have given me, with a passion, I am used to a high car, this is so low, it feels like my arse is on the floor. I start my new job on Monday and I will be doing lots of driving as I have a whole region to cover, I want to do it in my own car. Give me my car back now, you incompetent bunch of "finding wee jobs to do because it's an insurance claim" bastards.

To the insurance company
Would you give yourself peace

Phone calls, claim forms, drawing diagrams, questions that I can't answer - I have no idea how wide the road was, am I meant to go measure it? etc

To my beautiful parents
No, for the love of God, not two weeks

I love you, I do. I think we will all love each other a lot less if you come stay with me for 2 weeks at Christmas. I will have just started my new job and have limited holidays I can take. I am supposed to be working from home, this will be difficult when I have a house full of people. You will need driving around, entertaining and feeding, none of which are in my skill set. I wish to spend what time I have off in my jammies, mainlining Baileys and fruit and nut toblerones. Interspersed with naps. I do not want to be judged on how clean my house is (it won't be), how I only cook 1 meal a fortnight from scratch (I know I'm crap) and I really don't want my tee total mother looking at me like I'm on a slippery slope when I have a 2nd glass of wine with my Christmas dinner (I will need it)

To The Tax Office
Aw fur fucks sake, gimme a break

I understand that it is indeed, again, my fault, that I failed to enclose 1 sheet of my foreign tax return. Again, mea culpa. I am thinking of getting it tattooed on me. The missing sheet, as you so kindly pointed out, was one I didn't need to fill in anyway. So if I didn't need it and it makes no difference, could you just not have printed off one and stuck it in? Would that not have been quicker and kinder, for both of us?

To My Beautiful Eldest Daughter
Stop moaning about having no money and get a job

I understand that this week you have been in placement. I completely empathise that it is tiring to do a full day without a wee nap. I also note that this is the first full week you've put in for 2 years thanks to your study periods in your last 2 years at school. Most of us do this week in and week out. Without complaint (well, much complaint) However, you knew you needed a part time job over the summer holidays and in term time. You have known this for at least 6 months. You have not applied yourself to finding employment. If you showed the same level of enthusiasm as you do to new shoes or partaying, you'd be employed. I am keeping my end of the bargain by driving you back and forth to uni, doing your laundry and ironing and giving you £60 a week to live on so play fair.

To The Beautiful Son
GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP

Said through a megaphone. Right in your ear. I have to wake up at 6am to get you up for your paper round. 6am rises make me cranky. More cranky than usual. Personally, I don't need to wake up till 7.30am, on a Saturday I don't have to get up at all. When I get up at 6, I can't get back to sleep. This also makes me cranky. Is there a theme emerging? Set an alarm on one of the many electrical appliances I have provided for your enjoyment, your phone, your telly, your xbox or your ipod. Take your pick.

To my Beautiful Baby Daughter
Because I fecking well said so

I realise that you are 14 and full of fizzing hormones. I understand that you are trying to find your place within school, within your peer group and even within your family. I know you hate your life at present, you are 14, it comes with the spots. Please, for the love of God, do not question every single thing I ask you to do. I have one nerve left and you are tapdancing all over it. You will have to live with me for another 5 years, if you keep this level of confrontation up it will be the most miserable 5 years of my/your/our lives. And I am counting my chronically awful teenage years in that. And mine were fucking miserable.


To my solicitor
Stop with the letters

I understand you gave me an estimate of costs. I understand that we may go over it because my ex and I cannot agree on a financial settlement. But every time you write to me or call me or email me it costs me money. Please don't write to tell me we're still within the estimate or nearly over it.


To the exmrauntiegwens solicitor
Get a grip

Please remember I am a real person, with feelings, no matter what you have heard to the contrary. Please also try and inject a dose of reality into your propositions, the bandying of letters back and forth costs me (and him) money, money I definitely don't have.
When I read that "Mrs auntiegwen and her family frequently holiday at the property in Turkey and our client would be happy for them to purchase his share" I have to resist the urge to hoot with derisory laughter. Are you suggesting I ask The Beautiful Son for some of his paper round or ask Beautiful Baby Daughter to empty her piggy bank? My mortgage in England is, even with my new improved salary, ELEVEN times my annual salary, that's right, eleven. Now what bank is going to lend me thirteen times my salary to buy him out of the holiday home as well? The Bank of Make Believe? The Fairy Godmother of Divorcees Bank? The Bank of Stupid?


To the ex mrauntiegwen
You got me

This could be a whole post in itself. I don't want you to come to my house to see the children on Sunday, that day will be the day of our first date 25 years on. I don't want you there. I can barely bring myself to be civil to you.

I knew when we started negotiating money we wouldn't agree. It is extremely fair of you to give me all the equity in the mortgaged to the hilt house in England. It is also extremely generous of you to give me 60% of the house in Turkey, the one we have been trying and failing for the last 4 years to sell. I wish I had stuck to being "risk averse" as you called me and stopped myself becoming "asset rich, cash poor" but with you having the degree in Financial Services and all those years working in a bank, I took your financial advice.

I understand that legally once your children finish the school term that they are 18 your financial obligation ends.

Legally, not morally.

I understand that legally when your son turns 18 you can stop paying for him.

When that happens, I will be unable to pay the mortgage, because it is ELEVEN times my annual salary. I cannot do that on my own, if I live with someone or remarry before October 2015 the house will have to be sold anyway.

That's fine because as there is only 1 night in the week (Wednesday) that I do not have to drive and collect one of the children from an activity and as they only spend 2 Saturdays a month with you, it's extremely unlikely I would be able to meet and develop a meaningful relationship with anyone anyway. And on those 2 Saturdays a month, I most always have the elder of the children home from uni plus Hot Boy.

What this all means is your younger daughter, the one who is the most vulnerable and volatile of all, will have to move house in the first year of her A levels. I will be unable to afford another property in this area so she will have to leave here, where she has lived since she was 3 and move away from her friends. And that will be devastating for her.

Legally you can do this, you will give me the 10% of your salary the CSA says is fair and you have offered £150 per month spousal maintenance. But that will not mean she can stay in her home till she finishes her A levels. Legal but not moral.

You can explain it to her.

To God
Are you kidding me?

Whatever I did in my last life it must have been bad. I apologize unreservedly for the shit I must have been. Mea fucking culpa.