I know I said...
May. 19th, 2025 02:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glassy_witch..that I would try and post nice things, happy things, and have a bit less of a focus on the crappier things in life. But life once again had other ideas and has presented me with yet another huge steaming pile of manure that I could really have preferred to have avoided for at least another few years.
Bob was indeed my uncle. My father's brother, only a couple of years his junior. While Dad went to the secondary modern, Uncle Bob got in to Devonport High for Boys. But in an odd twist, it was Uncle Bob who ended up being the distinctly dodgier looking of the brothers, with my dad becoming a Special Constable and Uncle Bob? Hanging about with motorcycle gangs and looking just...dodgy. Dad was tall and very clean cut suits and sensible financial decisions, while Uncle Bob looked like Catweazle, and was usually covered in car grime from working in his garage on Albert Road. In later years, he moved into the shed in the garden. Don't worry, we HAD converted it first - the garage, shed, woodshed and outside loo were turned into a granny flat - although gran (maternal one) managed to conk out in 2004, long before she could be convinced to go near it. Bob has been a constant fixture in my mum's life too, having moved in with her and Dad two weeks after they got married - probably because of a falling out with his Dad and his new wife, Phyllis (my grandmother, Mary, died of cancer when Dad was 16). I never did ask why. And I never bothered asking why he moved into the shed twenty odd years ago either. Dad always looked out for his brother, even if he didn't always approve of his shenanigans.
They had the same eyes, did Dad and Uncle Bob. A bright, icy blue which was all twinkles most of the time, But then turned steely if someone did something considered out of line. Alison had the same. And Zak, although in his case, he never really got the opportunity to do much of either.
But with Uncle Bob gone, those blue eyes that I had weirdly come to rely on as a link to my dad, my sister, my nephew...they have finally closed and wont be opening again even to tell me to piss off and leave him in peace. And I know it is selfish, because I know how much pain he was in, but dammit, I wish he could have stayed. If nothing else so that mum wouldn't yet again have to traipse around doing all the sadmin that comes with this time. The registering, the notifications to banks and providers and all that. Frankly, the past twenty years has been a bit crap on that front, and it shows no signs of intending to improve. There's jst so few of us left now, it wont upset so many people I guess.
So here's to Uncle Bob. The Dude. Please try not to annoy your brother too much, eh?
Bob was indeed my uncle. My father's brother, only a couple of years his junior. While Dad went to the secondary modern, Uncle Bob got in to Devonport High for Boys. But in an odd twist, it was Uncle Bob who ended up being the distinctly dodgier looking of the brothers, with my dad becoming a Special Constable and Uncle Bob? Hanging about with motorcycle gangs and looking just...dodgy. Dad was tall and very clean cut suits and sensible financial decisions, while Uncle Bob looked like Catweazle, and was usually covered in car grime from working in his garage on Albert Road. In later years, he moved into the shed in the garden. Don't worry, we HAD converted it first - the garage, shed, woodshed and outside loo were turned into a granny flat - although gran (maternal one) managed to conk out in 2004, long before she could be convinced to go near it. Bob has been a constant fixture in my mum's life too, having moved in with her and Dad two weeks after they got married - probably because of a falling out with his Dad and his new wife, Phyllis (my grandmother, Mary, died of cancer when Dad was 16). I never did ask why. And I never bothered asking why he moved into the shed twenty odd years ago either. Dad always looked out for his brother, even if he didn't always approve of his shenanigans.
They had the same eyes, did Dad and Uncle Bob. A bright, icy blue which was all twinkles most of the time, But then turned steely if someone did something considered out of line. Alison had the same. And Zak, although in his case, he never really got the opportunity to do much of either.
But with Uncle Bob gone, those blue eyes that I had weirdly come to rely on as a link to my dad, my sister, my nephew...they have finally closed and wont be opening again even to tell me to piss off and leave him in peace. And I know it is selfish, because I know how much pain he was in, but dammit, I wish he could have stayed. If nothing else so that mum wouldn't yet again have to traipse around doing all the sadmin that comes with this time. The registering, the notifications to banks and providers and all that. Frankly, the past twenty years has been a bit crap on that front, and it shows no signs of intending to improve. There's jst so few of us left now, it wont upset so many people I guess.
So here's to Uncle Bob. The Dude. Please try not to annoy your brother too much, eh?