An open letter to the root of it all.
I must prelude this by saying I cannot fathom what possessed me to say what I did, my reply fell out of my mouth so instantaneously it was as if I had not even thought about it before I engaged the response.
I drank my way through the misery and disgust of the evening and as the wine warmed me and dulled my senses I began to find the cyst was no longer such a big deal.
From this tiny kernel grew a poisoned tree that bore fretful fruit of such magnitude at times it seemed I was enveloped in a very dark tunnel with no windows and no doors.
For this week’s blog, I felt like everyone – myself included – could do with a laugh. For once though, the laugh is at someone elses expense.
Surround yourself with good people and stay away from those who make you feel like you are difficult to love. I think it is most likely I represent the knowledge that my step-father wanted me more than he wanted my mother and that is where most of the bitterness and the unfounded hatred stems from. I can’t pretend to understand that mind-set, but I can rise above it.
In my opinion, the Lamb Kofta incident of 2015 is, without doubt, the single most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me. ‘Worse than the sanitary towel incident?’ I hear you muse. Yes – way worse. ‘Worse than the seagull opening it’s bowels into your mouth?’ Yep…so, so much worse. Even worse than the time you used an empty nail polish remover bottle as a douche!? You betcha! You’ll need a cast-iron stomach and a good sense of humour for this one!