folks

[deathboy]

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

My folks have been phoning, emailing and texting me for the last week or two.

I have not got back to them, which I do feel bad about, and I know how frustrating it is for them, but the reason is this:

What they wanted to do was to talk me into going home for my birthday.

Home. Burntwood. Shittest one-horse town in the midlands. I don't think they even have the horse anymore. I suspect they hung it on charges of witchcraft. No-horse town. NEGATIVE HORSE TOWN. Except that they think that minus numbers are the work of the devil. I think they once burned a man alive for using a fraction.

Burntwood favours supermarkets, teenage pregnancy and casual violence. I HATE 'home'. I loathe the place and most of the people in it with a white-hot passion. Every single time I go back, I remember how much I hate it.

My parents want to see me for my 30th, but, being the laziest people in the universe (when it comes to visiting their kids), instead of saying "hey, it's your 30th birthday, you know, YOUR birthday, we'll come and see YOU" - oh, no. They want me to get on the motorway for a few hours, return to the brood nest and have a nice game of "kick the swan's face off", or whatever it is they do in Staffordshire for entertainment.

They had a cinema there when I was a kid. It got closed. I suspect they thought it contained mischievous spirits.

I haven't even worked out what I DO want to do for my birthday, but I know that being in Burntwood is not a part of this plan. So, I finally cracked and called my dad back after a voicemail messge listing the various ways in which he'd tried to get hold of me and how it was important.

When he picks up, after the obligatory mock-surprise at my calling him, he reiterates the list of ways in which he has attempted to contact me. I explain that I'm sorry, but that I haven't worked out what I want to do and meant to call back when I actually knew, but that I wasn't planning to come home.

"Who said anything about coming home?"

Well, you did, dad. And mom did. You both did. In text messages, on a near-daily basis.

"We could come and see you, maybe"

Yes, but you won't.

"And of course, we get to see Corben"

Which is, to be honest, what I suspect the real reason is, entirely. You want to see the baby, you can't be arsed coming down here. Wait for it, wait for it...

"But I did think that maybe you might want to come up here or something..."

Of course you did. Why in the name of hell would I want to do this?

"I thought you might want to see Phil or something"

I would like to, and indeed if I did come back, that would pretty much be the only reason. I'm more interested in seeing if I can get him to come and visit me. You know. For my party. At mine. Where all my stuff is. Where I will be.

"OK, OK, I just thought you might like to see yer mate, but if you don't want to..."

Yes indeed, let's make it sound as if the only reason for my not returning to the rural outskirts of purgatory is to specifically avoid my best friend.

He then goes through the list of how he tried to get in touch with me again, and how upset he was that I didn't call back.

THIS IS WHY I DON'T CALL BACK. YOU SEEM TO BE ONLY CAPABLE OF COMMUNICATING VIA EMOTIONAL BLACKMAIL.

I'd like to see 'em. Probably not on my actual birthday, but near it. And in London, where they have cinemas and arcades and computer game shops and taxis and the internet and pizza delivery and electricity and very rarely sacrifice pigs to the harvest god to prevent him from curdling the milk or round up their neighbours and burn them in a wicker man.

Not north of the river, anyway.

I do love my folks, I would very much like to see them, but they can chuffing well come down the motorway or, frankly, whistle for it.

Parents. Doesn't matter how old you are, they can always make you feel like a kid again. Gah.

Comments

[girfan.livejournal.com]

I used to get this long distance, and I thought it would lessen or disappear when I got older, but it didn't until last year. I put my foot down, told my mother how her "blackmail" was hurting me and my relationship with her. And, for the first time, it sunk in. I've had absolutely no problems for a year-it's bliss.

Is there any neutral ground, not too far for you to travel with a baby, that could be selected for your birthday?

[girfan.livejournal.com]

Where in Wisconsin? I have relatives in Oshkosh, Kenosha, Silver Lake and Tomahawk. Even a few in some no-name place somewhat near Menomonie. Makes me glad my mother insisted on my father moving to Chicago instead of the opposite.

Updike said it best...

[bishopjoey.livejournal.com]

...in Portnoy's Complaint: "A Jewish man with a parent still alive is a 12 year old until they die." (or something to that effect)

This spoke volumes to me. I quoted it to a middle-aged man once who said "has nothing to do with being Jewish". Sometime later, I was chatting about Updike with a woman who said "has nothing to do with being male, either."

I didn't move to Europe to escape such stuff, but I know folks who did.

[gillen.livejournal.com]

Oshkosh, huh? I used to get up there every year for the EAA Fly-In.

I grew up in a little flyspeck just off highway 60, about halfway between Milwaukee and Madison.

[girfan.livejournal.com]

Near Baraboo or Devil's Lake?

[gillen.livejournal.com]

Baraboo wasn't so close. I was down around Beaver Dam, Watertown and Hartford.

[aeonapocolypse.livejournal.com]

It's true, they can always make you feel like a kid again.

Just stand your ground. They want to see the nipper. They will come to you. Just be prepared for all manner of guilt-inducing rant once they arrive.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_yungfuktoi_/]

This is the most entertaining thing I've read all morning.
Can totally relate, my parents live in fucking Columbus Ohio, and they've only come to visit me ONCE since I left home ten years ago. I'm the one obliged to come see them in their formica nightmare because I'm the one who 'decided to leave.'
Dude, I'm gonna miss your birthday. You need to visit next week. I allow fractions.

[https://users.livejournal.com/-leet-/]

I grew up in neighbouring Warwickshire and was born in 'way to close for comfort to Wales' Gloucestershire..... I feel your pain ;)

[smarriveurr.livejournal.com]

Actually, there you go... tell 'em Corben hasn't yet had tetanus boosters, and so to avoid exposure you're afraid of him catching sight of bloody godforsaken Burntwood, but if they'll hit a decontamination room en route, they're welcome anytime.

[smarriveurr.livejournal.com]

Interesting. I'm starting to think this is a pan-celtic phenomenon... Though in my family's Oirish manipulative martial arts, we focus more on Catholic guilt, passive aggression and cutting sarcasm. My poor girlfriend is all at sea dealing with my mum, not having had my decades of Irish Catholic Emotional Commando training.

[gaius-octavian.livejournal.com]

You being deprived of horses as a child explains a lot, my friend.

[alienfox.livejournal.com]

Maybe there should be a special Olympic event in sarcasm and deathly silences with occasional tutting.

I just had a look at your icons and the one entitled Nusku looks, how do zey say, sexy as fork. What's it from? :D

[miss_squiddy]

so that's what all the cool kids in Staffs are up to! I'm going out to kick a swan's face off NOW!

Also, parents are rubbish. Friend M is having the same rotten parents/new baby thing. If I were you, I'd tell them that you can't possibly fit all your baby supplies in the car and you would be terribly worried about driving him such a long way anyway...

fucking swans!

[deathboy.livejournal.com]

I'm actually pretty angry with 'em now. I've just found out that last time Liz left Corben with them (she was visiting her folks, same town), after being told explicitly not to put the baby seat in the front (it has airbags, he could die), they did precisely that.

I think it's just a matter of firmly, resolutely informing them we're not doing the journey :/ The baby CAN do the journey, but it's crap to do if you don't actually have to :/

[smarriveurr.livejournal.com]

Oh, I could see that...

"Murphy opens with a classic blase reference to missing you cousin's wedding five years ago, but Daniels counters with the drunken indiscretion at your uncle's wake... and it's a glare from Murphy, small roll of the eyes from Daniels, silence... silence... indrawn breath from Murphy..."

And... what... this old thing? Yeah, it's hawt, with a capital HAWT. But, sadly, I don't know its provenance anymore. It's an image I saved from a webcomic artist's portfolio many years ago, for the obvious awesomeness, and when I was desperately looking for a "rant" icon to go with my first angry post, I cut it down and used it. The original image name was pretty useless, I can't remember the comic, not even sure if it's one of the ones I read anymore, and I seem to recall the image had nothing to do with the comic itself, so my hope of figuring out the source is almost nonexistent at this point.

However, through the magic of the intarweb, I hold some idea that one day, I'll use it, and some touchy fan will go "HOW DARE YOU USE [ARTIST]'S IMAGE WITHOUT CITING IT!?" or "OMG, so you like [artist] too!" and I'll find out. ;)

[danblood.livejournal.com]

in contrast to deathboy I trained the emotional blackmail out of my parents at a young old-age, so it's quite worth it for me to pay out £40 for a train up to the midlands for 'free' beer (despite travel) and jamming sessions :)

[smarriveurr.livejournal.com]

On the topic, while I think of it, I have to relate one Secret Loughrey Jutsu mastered by my gran, who was a black belt. Always scored the match point.

You open with asking about a vague acquaintance. "D'you remember Uncle Robert^*?" she'd say. The answer, of course, is "no," because you haven't seen nor heard from the man in two decades. She'd then proceed, over the course of the next to relate every cute little anecdote about Uncle Robert, whom you loved of course as a young'un, and how great he was, and really get you invested, till you ask, "Oh, yeh, Uncle Robert... how is he?" "Heart attack Tuesday last, wake's tomorrow."

I mean, damn. She could pull that move out a dozen times, innocent as you'd please, you never see it coming till the knife twists.

^* In grand tradition, every relation, second cousin thrice-removed, or friend of the family of adult age was an "uncle/aunt". My mum was twenty before she was rock-sure on who her actual blood relations were.

[devalmont.livejournal.com]

I'm talking 12-13 years ago, and it was rough then, the way thst Burntwood has gone it's probably even rougher.

[feuermaus.livejournal.com]

Mine had me do it when our son was less than 2 months old - 180 miles to stay in a B&B and show the little one to everyone because my mother wont leave her 2 miles 'safety zone'.
To this day I have no idea why we did it, but the poor little bugger cried almost solidly for 100 miles and nothing we could do would calm him down.
Should the situation ever occur again my response would be a resounding 'Fuck You!'
Family is Weird.

[feuermaus.livejournal.com]

OK, Buttwood must be truly evil if Loughborough is nice compaired to it *shudders*

Half an hour? HALF AN HOUR?! Ehhh, you kids don't know you were born. It was a good hour's bus ride (or 1 and a half on the train - go figure that!) to either the hive of villany of Teesside, or the Inbred seaside town of Scarborough if you wanted to visit something as exciting as a bloody Woolworths until I was 15!

Oh, and I was wrong about Whitby it seems. The first cinema they had they turned into a bingo hall, and then it became Boyes Stores. For some unearthly reason they 'moved' the cinema over the road and then changed *that* one into the BT HQ. Although apparently there used to be a skating rink opposite the Metroploe for a while until some one drowned in it and the council filled it in, which I suppose is fair enough really.

[smarriveurr.livejournal.com]

very rarely sacrifice pigs to the harvest god to prevent him from curdling the milk or round up their neighbours and burn them in a wicker man.

See, I think that would be a pretty rocking party. More towns should do it.

My girl had the same problem with parents for the longest time. They had her guilted into doing every holiday... which usually meant spending 6-8 hours on the road for me to drop her off, overnighting in separate rooms (what they imagine we do when we're alone I don't know), and then I'd drive back the 6-8 hours alone so I wouldn't have to miss more than two days of work. A week later would be the pickup... but I'd get a call, like, 2 days before, of how oh, now, they've got something worth travelling for, we can meet halfway, but, oh, it would have to be the next day, at noon, does that work?

Hell, once they managed to screw things up so totally that I had to get up early to drive out New Year's Eve, to drive us both back for a party near us that night... 12+ hours on the road in one day... and then, oh, she had to stay for dinner... of course you'll stay for dinner, break your poor mother's heart to leave earlier... which, oops, dinner was delayed, wouldn't be till five... and done by six and... oh, gee, if I leave right now, I'll be lucky to be home by 1am dodging drunk drivers all the while. Gargh.

Finally, I just told them we live where we live, and they'd have to settle for whatever arrangements we could make to visit. They have a caravan, they go to rallies, it's not like they can't swing an hour away from one and park it by us for a while to say hi. Too sick of always going to them, and always having to change plans at the last minute to accommodate the folks who weren't making the big trips.

Hell, one night, meeting up theoretically at 6pm, I literally didn't know where or what the plan was till 5:15pm.

[stevek.livejournal.com]

Gives me the fear that I'll be the same, mind you :/

It will happen, mark my words! ;-)

I remember the first time I thought I was turning into my dad was in B&Q when I was looking at tools thinking Oh that looks a handy thing to have!

[jr06.livejournal.com]

You know what's sort of funny, even though i've heard lots about how bad Burntwood is, i still kinda want to visit it.

[ephemera.livejournal.com]

Parents - they know where the buttons are. They were there when they were installed, after all.

(but damn right they can come to you for a visit!)