Saturday, 23 August 2014

On The Subject Of Wath-on-Dearne

One of the houses where I lived--that's my room on the left, with the windows surrounded by ivy. You could climb out of it back then and in to the roof of the mistle.
I've written my story, and am still a little apprehensive about having it published as I know it's going to open a massive can of worlds. It's been legally read, so there should be no problem with litigation. Hilariously, distant family members who I thought must have been dead by now have come crawling out of the woodwork. I think that they think there may be a few bob in compensation for them if they take legal action against me. The problem is they are lacking in two things mainly--money, and brains. You don't go rushing to a lawyer who deals with divorce and driving claims if you're hoping to sue someone for alleged breach of copyright!
My true family were those on my mother's side, and those on my abusive father's side. The others--step-relatives who lumbered along when O.B. remarried, are unimportant. They were then, and they are now. They're not in the book other than en-passant. O.B is--a more vile man never walked this earth. My stepmother is, and I would say not in a good light. If she were still trailing her 300+ pound carcass around today, she wouldn't have a good word to say for me. And no one can stop the book because these people are dead--and in Britain you cannot libel the dead, no matter how many times folk zip back and forth between their lawyers. 
Recently some of these people raised their voices over dear old Nancy Sphinctergritzel, whose death anniversary is today. A few pictures of them popped up in one of the books, and may I say entirely by accident. We found this big box of pictures in the loft, all of them very old--some dated 1900! I just dipped in and used them. Had I known they were "family" members, I would have cast them into the flames. As much as I loathed my father and stepmother, I very much doubt that their pictures will wind their way into my own book. 
Anyhow, I removed the pictures from the Nancy book, and I also removed myself from the group that I was on, as follows in the heavily edited little "dicte" that I made! 

[[ While we're on the subject of nostalgia. I grew up in this little place called Wath-on-Dearne, which as a kid I found to be a vile place because of an abusive father and the archetypal wicked stepmother. Then I moved away, exorcised my demons, and I've just committed it to paper. But as a member of the group there, though there were some truly wonderful people, some of whom are good friends, some of the demons came back, therefore I headed for the hills. I rather think my "farewell speech" may have been scuppered, so I will include it here. Though I never speak about my personal life (but I am in the book) I feel that I need to add a little comment about people living in glass houses! I haven't included the picture of my step-sister because children may be looking and I don't want any pre-pubescent heart-attacks!
So, my apology post was removed? I will not be dictated to by the Ushers. When Jeanne and I married we had to have police protection after threats and very nasty communications from these people—it will all be in my book. They denounced my wife as thin and ugly. I think by studying the enclosed picture that this was a classic case of a very obese kettle calling the pot back. We were given six months. And yet these people have led such achieving lives. How many husbands and men and broken relationships, dear step-sisters—**********, etc? And those very “proper” stepbrothers, two of whom have done Her Majesty's Pleasure for ************. I think that even with the Nancy Sphinctergritzel stories we can raise our heads over that lot. And so it’s goodbye from me.]]

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