Eine Habe My Diary

I returned home in the afternoon expecting to find my mother, the writer, hard at work on her latest project. Strangely this was not the case.

My mother, the writer, has recently begun to behave differently. She has not been spending much time on her projects and more time out of the house. No longer do I arrive home to delicious meals of sophistication and personality inspired from various locations around the world.

I settled down working on my own project for university (my dissertation) highlighting the flaws and total incompetence technically and otherwise, of the Jason Mega College computing system and staff.

She arrived home shortly after and I offered the usual greetings and salutations. She responded in a very lethargic and somewhat docile manner as if she had just woke up. I actually thought she was slurring but decided it must have just been my ears since I had been listening to some Kaydee Lang tracks very loud. I continued working whilst she prepared food for the evening.

Yet again, my mother had prepared a meal which was totally unsatisfactory. This was quite possibly the worst episode to date. I simply could not classify this meal. I could not tell which country this dish was influenced from. Some sort of noodle based chicken slop including a hint of mushroom with a small amount of sauce. It was not English, Thai or Chinese and certainly not Welsh! It was as if someone had placed these mediocre ingredients into a small pot, added boiling water and left to stand for approximately (and I’m guessing here) 3 minutes before serving on a plate! She also served me 2 bread buns which frankly had no personality at all. The final offence was the inclusion of a glass of wine into this debacle; a total non-sequitur. Wine should only be included in upper-class high quality meals only.

I decided protesting would be pointless; however, I felt it the correct time to quiz my mother about the issue regarding the payment of my university fees a few weeks before. I described, in detail, the horrible ordeal in which I felt financially raped in front of the school office. Still unsettled from what she tried to feed me as my evening meal, I demanded to know why the fees had not been completely paid.

It was at this time she said three words (in succession) I wished I would never hear any of my parents say,..... "Couldn't afford it".

The use of bad English aside and in shock, when my brain had finished processing this information and I realised the full enormity of this hideously vile statement. For a few seconds I believed I was going to be sick. I had visions of myself running through the house, possibly knocking over some of the symmetrical statues in the sitting room and propelling vomit into the toilet.

She explained to me about the need for instalments in context of current efforts to budget in the household and the general requirements of paying bills etc. I argued that these sorts of issues should not affect people like us to which I received no relevant response and just a puzzled expression from her.

I was assured the first instalment required was paid for a few days ago (as they had gotten a letter) using the credit card, my parents provide, and that future instalments will be paid on time. She also announced that a deal with a new publisher is imminent with small projects (one of which is due for publication very soon) and major projects later. I confirmed at this point there was a slight slur on her voice.

The disturbing revelations of the evening did not make me feel up to the task of going to my street fighting lesson nor learning about my home country, Wales. I decided that I would clear up my room. As clean and thoughtful members of society we recycle so I took several items out to our recycling area.

To my horror I made a disturbing find in form of two empty bottles of super strength cider in the rubbish! This is another instance of what my father, the educator, discovered! How are these hideous items entering our house and most appallingly, not going into the recycling?

Episode 9

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