I know a lot of you are wondering where Tales Of The Dales has disappeared to. Don’t worry, I haven’t been silenced and I’m very much alive! There’s only one way I’ll be stopped and that’s via a court order, so until that happens – keep watching this space. They will return!
The fact of the matter is I’ve had some bad news recently, and as much as I enjoy writing TOTD, despite them being infused with humour, the majority of the memories are sad and negative ones about people who now mean very little to me.
Although it’s in the past, I don’t have the headspace to be thinking about them right now. Alongside an uncle passing away and the family drama that incurred, a cousin of mine is gravely ill and my focus has been on sending as much love and positive vibes I can muster her way.
When you go through the shit I have with my siblings it makes you question the word family and what it entails. I admit to at times feeling cynical about it, but certain members reminded me that the actions of a few shouldn’t tarnish the true meaning.
A lot of people knock Facebook and other social media platforms for creating issues and drama. That’s not the case. It’s down to how you choose to use it. For me, amongst other things, it’s been a great way to communicate with my people all over the world, and a few years ago I set up a messenger group page.
It was good to be able to fill them in on what was going on, and also to vent to people who knew me and had prior knowledge of how certain family members stood and the complexity of the situation.
It’s by far easier to sit on the fence for fear of offending or causing upset, but the reality is people can be both good and bad. If certain folk only want to highlight the good and can’t handle being called out on the bad that’s not for me to feel a way about, no matter how much they like to point fingers and shout about it, and I feel blessed and thankful to those in the group who fully understand that.
One such person is my cousin who is now fighting for her life. She is one of the most loveliest young women you could hope to meet, and helped me no end when I was getting married. She’s a character and a half and has a lovely bubbly personality. To think of her the way she is now honestly breaks my heart.
I can’t help but question the higher powers movements sometimes. Apparently everything happens for a reason and I’m hoping at some point some sense will be made of this. To be fair I questioned her (the higher power), when I was going through things with mum, but I now see it was (in the end) for the greater good. I’m hoping with all my might my cousin is not called up just yet. I know we’ve all got to go sometime…just not yet.
In life we’re given blessings and lessons. I’ve learnt to be grateful for them all – the good and bad. The lesson I got from my escapades with my family is to make sure you truly fully appreciate the ones who are there for you and show you they care for you.
All too often excuses are made as to why some don’t put the time and effort in. I’ve heard the most amount of bullshit reasons as to why some don’t bother coming to see my mum. The fact of the matter is as hard as it is for some to see her in a home, it’s not a fraction on how it must feel for her to live there, but it’s her home now so you should try your best to make it feel that way.
Presumption is a key factor. They presume because she has dementia it means she’s not worth the effort. What’s the point? She doesn’t remember shit anyway!…only she does, but you have to be around to see it. Because she has dementia you make more of an effort not less. But to each their own. You keep on doing you and I’ll keep on doing for those who need it.
Show your love and mean it. Don’t just talk the talk, walk the fucking walk! Tomorrow isn’t promised and life is way too short. If you haven’t said it lately, or ever, tell those you care about how much you love them. If you can’t muster up the words find ways to show it instead. It has the same effects and doesn’t have to be a grand gesture but can have a big impact and mean a lot, especially when it’s truly heartfelt.
R.I.P Uncle James and all those who have lost their lives recently.
Lil’ cuz, if prayers alone could see you through you’d have been out and about time ago. Keep fighting, and we’ll keep sending up and out the all the love we can.
https://nudawndiary.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/pexels-simon-berger-1323550-scaled.jpg16462560NuDawnhttps://nudawndiary.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/IMG_0444-1030x1030.pngNuDawn2019-10-27 14:20:582023-04-02 11:33:56Blessings And Lessons
“I haven’t time to waste my time with the likes of you!…”
I would think by now you’ve read enough to understand some of the reasons as to why mine and Dales relationship is the way it is. Since my teens there has been a steady flow and varying degrees of shit, so when the events of the past five years first unfolded the majority of it was of no great surprise.
However, what did take me by surprise is how the relationship between myself and my sister fell apart. To be totally honest I’m still flummoxed. It’s actually quite funny as the love and adoration I had for Dale as a child could not be said of my feelings for her.
Our sisterly bond didn’t really kick in until after she left home. Before then it felt like I was more tolerated than loved. She was always so bloody miserable! There were never any girly sessions or guidance from her. I actually struggle to recall any major bonding moments that didn’t involve me trying to garner some form of affection.
There is an eleven year age gap between us, so by the time I was 10 she was 21 and we had little in common. By then I was a typical kid into my pop tunes but had also been introduced to my Black side via my eldest brother. She was different. She had a Black side but it was more diluted.
Considering that she and Dale were born in Antigua they both spoke as if they were born with silver spoons in their mouths. Dale would switch it up every now and then and try and drop a little patois into the mix, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak anything but the queen’s English and banshee.
She liked jazz, funk and soul, and I credit her for introducing me to the likes of Anita Baker, Maze, Roy Ayers and Tania Maria. My main impression of her back then was that she liked make up and shoulder pads, wining, dining, hobnobbing and white men.
I mentioned previously that she and Dale never talked when I was little. I used to think that part of the reason must be because she was so moody and uptight, but then I finally got it. She was bouji!, and I came to understand it was mostly frustration at her environment. For someone of her imagined stature living at home must have been torture for her.
It wasn’t unusual to have the smell of sweat and testosterone wafting upstairs alongside the grunts and groans of Dale and his mates working out. Not the greatest when you want to relax with a glass of wine and chill with Robbie Vincent.
She was smart (or so I thought), had good taste and liked the finer things in life, but we were flexing with Vimto money and she had champagne tastes! She tried though, bless her. I’ll never forget the time she bought carpet for the front room. Lovely, fluffy, deep pile CREAM carpet…👀
Even at my young age I knew it was a disaster waiting to happen!
It was lovely carpet for about a week. Then Dale came home one day and walked clean through the front room with his muddy Doc Martens and left a trail of destruction behind him. Understand the rest of us virtually hovered over this fucking carpet let alone sip beverages darker than water anywhere near it.
You have to go upstairs to enter the front room, so he had plenty of opportunity to take his boots off before walking on it but chose not to. He was basically saying fuck you and your carpet.
I remember the vexation from my sister at the time. I can’t be certain but I believe that was a turning point for her. She realised her efforts were not going to be appreciated within the house. I’m sure it helped to cement her decision to leave home and have all the cream carpet her little heart desired.
Well she did just that. Cream carpet an’ all! She was seeing her now husband at the time and they eventually moved in together. I remember Dave and I praising the Lord that she’d gone. The mood totally lifted and from then on our relationship was great. I’d literally never seen her so happy. Space was definitely what was needed all round. She was free to be as bouji as she pleased and was loving it, and most definitely living her best life.
On paper we were polar opposites. Looks, tastes, lifestyles – everything!, but we had at last bonded. We’d often talk about things going on at home and Dales behaviour. She was glad to be well out of it all and was in no way looking back. In fairness to her, despite not coming back to the house very often, whenever she upgraded anything she would give the old bits to mum to help spruce the place up. I say old bits but they weren’t old or battered. It was all good quality stuff and mum was grateful.
My sister was always adamant that she didn’t want to have children. They’d encroach on her lifestyle too much. Bali’s not quite the same with a bawling brat in tow don’t you know!? She was good with my two girls and her other nephews and nieces, but admittedly far from the motherly type.
Just after having my second daughter I discovered that I had two other sisters on my dads side that lived in London. I knew I had other siblings but didn’t have a clue that any lived in England. One of them happened to go on a trip organised by the Antigua Association and met a woman who told her she knew of siblings she had in Slough.
She took her number and passed it on to my mum who passed it on to me. Now after giving birth to my daughter, a week later I was in hospital with a headache I’d had for the whole week. I’d never felt anything like it. It was the worst and constant. It felt as if my brain was being battered inside my head and any kind of light was like torture.
As it turns out I had a benign pituitary adenoma, and after spending 2 weeks in hospital and having a fit, I came round to discover the headache gone and along with it all recollection of giving birth. I remembered being pregnant but not much after that and totally did not register my baby as being mine…sorry Sadé.
I’d had enough head fucks by then, so receiving a number from a sister on my dads side wasn’t really appealing to me. I had visions of her trying to get me to reconnect with him and I sooo wasn’t interested. I believe it was my husband who encouraged me to make contact…it’s all quite hazy, but I do remember the day we actually met.
I had to laugh. It was a lovely summers day and it was as if the higher power were saying, you know what girlfriend, you’ve done been through enough honey chil’! Have this on me!
They were like the sisters I’d imagined and never got. They were FULLY in touch with their roots and we all looked alike. One of them even had locs and smoked too! We clicked and bonded straight away. Like me they had Black partners and Black kids and all I kept thinking was why couldn’t I have met them sooner?
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against mixed relationships and I have no issues with it at all. It was just nice to have females on my level who could relate to being my kind of Black. I never had that with my sister, and my mum and I were generations apart. The fact that they couldn’t stand our father either just added to the love.
My paternal sisters came to Slough and met the rest of my family and we’ve been in regular contact ever since. A couple of years after meeting them my sister unexpectedly found herself pregnant. That wasn’t just a shock to her but to all of us, trust me.
She was in her early forties by then and recognised the miracle that it was so decided to keep it. I was happy for her and especially her husband. As much as he was happy to live life as a twosome you could tell he’d love to have had a child of his own.
And I was pretty sure this child had come to fix my sister!
Whenever and wherever I could I helped out. I loved my niece and at that time my sister couldn’t drive, so if she needed anything or had to go anywhere whilst her husband was at work I would be there. When she went back to work I looked after her. She knew I smoked but it wasn’t an issue. She knew I wasn’t a junkie and wouldn’t do it around her daughter.
We were good. We were tight. I thought I knew her. Sure she was bouji and a little stuck up, but ultimately she was good people. Hear me when I say when the shit hit the fan I was totally blindsided by her and it cut deep. Real deep! Never did I imagine she’d be Pinky to The Brain.
She sent the opening quote to me. This was well after all of Dales escapades I’ve mentioned previously and after the majority of what you’ve yet to discover. For her to look down her nose at ‘the likes of me’ whilst backing the likes of him is to me beyond a joke.
As much as she may think cannabis has fucked me up in the head, it seems it’s not a touch on the gin that’s addled her brain! I promised her that one day I would remind her of everything.
Buckle up bitch!😂
R.I.P Diahann Carroll and all those who have passed away recently
R.I.P Joy Morgan. Now your family can finally put you to rest
Huge congratulations to Dina Asher-Smith, Katarina Johnson-Thompson, Shelly-Ann Fraser-Price, Allyson Felix and Nia Ali for totally smashing it for black women in the World Athletics Championships!
You Live & You Learn, Stay Blessed & #CelebrateLife
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