Friday, 27 March 2009

Chest pains, rats, and many other happy things

Current mood:  sad

I haven't updated my blog for three days again, but that's a blessing for all of you, honestly.  After all, now all my latest bad news will be combined in one blog which you can easily ignore.
I've had a wonderful time the last three days.  Not.  I went to Hounslow on Wednesday (the last time I was able to leave the house, in fact), which was okay, I guess.  Mum didn't want to go, and wasn't too pleased that David and I went without her (despite the fact I was going crazy having not left the house for three days before that).  I need to get shopping alone again (for those oh-so-forbidden things like cartridges for my shaver, anti-perspirent and facial cleansing wipes.  How dare I need such things?!  Well, anyways, David had agreed to let me go around on my own for once, so I was feeling quite upbeat and positive, trying to figure out what to buy with the £90 in my purse (which has all been made by selling stuff, by the way - thank you to everyone who has helped me out!  *Hugs*)
We arrived in Hounslow, parked the car, and had literally just got down to the shops when David's mobile phone rang.  I stopped while he answered it, and even I jumped back, having heard the person on the end of the phone loud and clear.  "DON'T GET SEPERATED!"  It was Mum, of course.   He handed me the phone to prove that I was safely under guard and she went off and went through the palava of switching the dial-up internet on again (something she hates to do, so the phone message must have really meant a lot to her).
So that put an end to my plans.  David and I walked around together which was not a lot of fun really, but surprisingly he was talking to me and being quite friendly for once.  Anyways, he and I had a nice boring trip to the bank then wandered around a few shops.  We went in British Heart Foundation (no ponies to be found), and then saw a new Asda had opened up at the end of one of the side roads there.
They had MLPs reduced to just £3.00, but I couldn't afford any (my £90 needs to be spent on necessities as I already mentioned, so I'll be buying no more ponies for a while).  Anyways, I walked up an aisle to look at vegetarian ready meals - yes, I actually "got seperated" from my bodyguard!  Shh!  Don't tell Mum! - and found ASDA'S OWN VEGETARIAN CANNELONI (My favourite veggie ready meal EVER!)  Our local branch stopped selling it, and I'd given up on ever eating it again.  I actually squealed in the shop, and ran to pick it up! (There was only one on the shelf)
Anyhow, when I walked back to David, still babbling incoherently about canneloni, I found him holding a bag.  I was a bit disappointed, thinking he'd already paid for our shopping and wouldn't queue up again with the holy canneloni (!), but no.  He'd just sneakily gone back to the toy aisle and bought...

Images deleted by Tinypic before I had the sense to re-upload all my photos to my Photobucket album and update all the links.  I apologise for any inconvenience caused!

I felt so awkward, with him being out of work and everything.  But he said they were my Easter gift, and he was just giving them to me early while he knew which ones I wanted.  So that's my Eyeshadow Pony set completed!
We went in New Look (well, actually David stood in the doorway - hope we didn't break any more seperation laws! ); they have the cutest t-shirt there.  It has a dinosaur eating leaves on the front, and the caption "Veggiesaurus" underneath.  I saw it when we were in Uxbridge, and they had it in pink there, but not in my size.  In Hounslow they had my size but only in navy blue or black, neither of which would go with my navy blue leggings, which is all I have to wear on my legs.  Otherwise, even I would have spent £8.00 there! (Well, since I only own three t-shirts, I think I deserve to buy myself a new one, right?)
Then I have to do some happy blogging about yesterday (unfortunately, not so happy as the Hounslow part of my blog. )
David was still in the bathroom (I guess it was around 11.30am) when Mum saw a man in our Irish neighbours garden.  The man apparently kept popping his head over our fence, cutting down our overgrown ivy.  She told me he'd been banging on our door the previous day while David and I were in Hounslow (she hadn't gone to the door, of course).  Anyways, soon afterwards, he was banging on our door (and lounge window!) again.
Eventually, David came downstairs and opened the door.  It turned out he was a bloke from the council visiting about yet more rat problems, reported by the Irish neighbours.  Unable to let him through the house, David (who was only half dressed and had all his hair standing on end), had to go around and let him through the sidegate...which took AGES.  Meanwhile, Donna (the loud-mouther busybody from two doors away) shouts up our path, laughing, "You'll be waiting all day for him to open the door!"
The door eventually opened, and the rat man was allowed in.  He could find no trace of rats in our garden though, was very pleased to see David had put poison down (even though that was about six weeks ago) and reckoned the rats were coming in from our Polish neighbours' garden.
So he went to visit them.  While there, he must have looked over our fence and seen he returned a few moments later, having been taken down the back alley by the teenage boy who lives next door, obviously having been looking at the back of our garage.
He's seen rat holes at the bottom of the garden.  Big rat holes.  It seems we have a whole colony of them living under our garage, and probably in our garage (amongst the bags of old rags) too.  Actually, that's exactly what I've been saying all along, but nobody would listen to me.  I've watched the rats' movements and they always go down to that corner of the garden.  Oh, well.  Now David has to clear all the undergrowth before next Friday so that we can get pest control in.  Apparently, the only way to get rid of them is to literally fill all of their holes with rat poison cakes so they have to eat their way in or out of their burrows.  And even then it may take several fillings.  That's how many rats we have living down there.
So I didn't leave the house, while David spent all day clearing the garden...and spilling household rubbish all over the hall floor when he tried to take it to the tip.  Now we have a nice tomato soup stain on the hall carpet.
And finally, today.  Mum overslept; She didn't get up until 10am!  And I can't get up until she gets up and goes in the bathroom.  That's our rule.  So I had to lie there on the floor getting worse and worse backache because she just wouldn't wake up, even when I kept calling her.
After I had finally been able to go in the bathroom, I came downstairs to find my parents arguing (no surprises there then).  More arguments about Woodberry etc.
David's paid the builders far too much (as in, a LOT more than the initial £500 that he figured out before).  How the heck can he have done it when Mum and I have been telling him to look at the figures for months?
No work is currently being done in the house, even though the electricians are supposed to have come back.  David finally got hold of Rob Williams (the builder) who says he's "had a cold, so hasn't been able to ring the electricians".  Um... Since when did a cold become a suitable reason to take three weeks off work, or more precisely three weeks off of even MAKING A PHONECALL?!
Emma Renton (the gardener) will not answer her phone, and has run off with our money.
And the new architect still hasn't written to Sickton.  In fact, all he has done is enraged Mum by asking David on the phone if "she could hear him", and trying to get David to convince her to get a new fireplace rather than getting the one we love repaired.  I'm just sick of all of them really.
Mum is too.  So she says she isn't moving again, and "this time she's serious".  She just kept on and on and on, saying how good it was making her feel to finally take control of her own life.  Huh, don't we all wish we could do that?!
Anyhow, she kept on for so long that I went mad again.  But I don't mean just mad in the sense I start screaming crazily, I actually started getting real awful chest pains.  I seriously thought I was going to have a heart attack. I couldn't breathe and could feel my heart going faster and faster.  I keep getting these sharp pains in my head and neck too.  I just don't know how much longer I can take all of this, physically or mentally.
Then, out of the blue, Mum went totally mad saying she's going to leave all the money she makes from selling the house to Emma and her kids, and leave me out of the will, "because Emma and the kids are so much better to her than I am".  I have "no consideration for her, and only care about myself".  Um, no.  Emma has mentioned wills in the past, I haven't.  If I were only allowed an education, and could get my own job and income so that I could support myself, I'd be more than happy to leave this awful place and never have to take anything from my family ever again since they clearly don't even like me.
I told her that in as many words, and she said, "There you go again, on about leaving me.  So WHY WAS I EVER MOVING HOUSE ANYWAY?  Just for you to go off when I can't even change a lightbulb.  I DON'T AGREE WITH BL**DY EMIGRATION!"  Of course, I have nowhere to go and just have to listen to her.  She continued like this for about half an hour, and I ended up ripping up a whole pad of perfectly good paper and throwing the pieces at her just to shut her up.  Then of course she started on at me that I was a "mental little tart who should be in the loony bin".  Of all the people in the world, how the heck can she call ME a tart?!  Oh, well, that's really besides the point.
Her next dig was that she was so much better to her parents than I was.  Oh, yeah.  Like how she was PREGNANT at my age, with no intention of ever getting a job?!  I didn't say anything about that though, and just pointed out that she was never held back by her parents education-wise (she walked out of school at 14 because of bullying) or freedom-wise.  As I already said she was expecting a baby at my age.  Now there's no way I would want anything to do with men, and CERTAINLY not to the extent that there was any risk of having kids, but can you imagine the reaction if I brought in a boyfriend?  Presuming I was ever allowed OUT that is!  Heck, if they even get the faintest idea that I have a simple crush on an actor I'll never even meet, they tittle-tattle and make out I'm a terrible person.
Anyways, she turned around and answered, "My mum forced me to wear skirts, and I didn't want to."
So is THAT the angry thought she's been compressing all these years?  Well, I have news for you, mother.  I WANT to wear skirts, but can wear nothing but trousers because I'm not supposed to shave my legs.  So is that really any better?  I pointed this out to her, but all she could say was, "I'm not stopping you from wearing a skirt.  I couldn't care less what the f*** you wear!"  Yeah, not much. I guess she thinks I should suffer like I did right up until 15 years old, walking around in cropped trousers without shaving my legs?!
I am just so angry and hurt right now.  And being held in this house like a prisoner is not helping.  I feel like a caged animal.  All I want is to be able to walk out my own front door, and walk off these feelings.  Maybe if I could clear my head a little, I could think of a way out.
I've been looking up drama schools online, and was pleasantly surprised to find there are schools for 18+ where you don't need previous experience.  You do need to pass an audition though, so I doubt I'd ever make it.  Apparently, there are 21 schools in this country which will award "Dance And Drama Awards" and if you can get one of them, you can get some financial aid as far as further studying goes.  It would be a three year course (I'd be looking at a Musical Theatre Diploma, I guess) though, and how I'd afford it or even get on the course/earn the award in the first place is daunting in itself.
*Gasps for breath again*
Ugh, I thought blogging was supposed to get it all out of your system, but it's not working tonight.  Now I think I can hear someone in the garden, and it's not a rat.  It's probably some idiotic drunk urinating right outside the window again - I heard them shouting just a few minutes ago.
Well, David has finally left the bathroom, so now I can go to floor-bed again.  I just wish I could escape this patch of floor.  And somehow, someway, someday, I will do.  I've just got to keep my chin up. Something has to show up eventually...
Best wishes,
Desirée Skylark  xxx

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