Well! What a shitty end to the year and decade! And what a decade it’s been! I was hoping I’d have me a Bobby Ewing* moment and wake up in the shower to realise it was all a dream!
At the start I thought I’d realised the importance of how precious time was by leaving a job that was killing my soul; but it was nothing in comparison to the real eye opener half way through.
I’ve observed how some people judge and treat others without looking at their movements and realising they are the same, if not worse. I’ve lost real ones and real fake ones. I’ve fought cancer, fought family and fought for family. I’ve seen dementia (and others) rob my mum. I’ve lost my crowning glory and gained a disability. I’ve felt alone, been disowned, depressed, downhearted and cried me a fucking river – but I’m still here!
I’m calling it my Detox Decade! I had a major build up of toxicity which I’m almost done filtering out, and it’s left me heading into 2020 with 20/20 vision on certain aspects trust me!
I’ve had more than my fill of negative attitudes and bad energies. #MekItStayFarAway
Throughout all of the bullshit and the madness I’ve had my constants. The ones that show and prove and who have helped me through it all. Understanding that although I may have seemed alright on the outside, I really was a mess, and they did all they could to help me out.
Thank you for showing me what genuine friendship and love is all about. Y’all know who you are but I have to shout out the main one. The one who has seen me at my absolute worst and still loved me unconditionally. The one who took me from Miss to Mrs! My husband, Mr Biggs. Big love, respect and thanks going out to you from the bottom of my heart.🖤
The same for all of you who have supported me in every aspect and those of you who take the time out to read my ramblings! It honestly means a lot. I’ve taken a little break to recharge the batteries but there will be PLENTY more Tales Of The Dales and more to come in 2020. Stay tuned! #SoonCome
In the meantime, feel free to reread some of my earlier blogs and like, comment and share if the mood takes you.
Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it and I’m truly wishing you all the best that 2020 has to offer and beyond.
R.I.P to my little cuz Janel Merchant and all of those who have passed away recently. Gone but by no means forgotten.
*Google him😂
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.
Sister Sista!
“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!
Wtf!? Are Ukipping Me!?
“The situation between myself and Dawn Williams has always been an issue, for whatever reason she has chosen to create problems for me…”
I’m sure that by now some of you, possibly a lot of you, are still questioning why I’ve chosen to air and share. For the paracats and those who I’ve ever had an issue with you can rest easy!
I’m hoping that if you’ve read Disclaimers 1-3, like really read them and not just skipped through to The Dales, you’ll have more understanding of the person I am. Believe I have no trouble in locking folk off without the need to go to these lengths. I’m rational enough to know not everyone will like me, and I in turn don’t like some people, but that isn’t going to effect my everyday life.
This is different because it did effect my everyday life on a number of levels – in fact the main cause of it has been effecting it for the longest while, and quite simply, I’m done.
There comes a point in your life when you have a lightbulb moment. I’ve had a few, but the most significant one came when cancer came calling. That bitch made me pay real attention. I don’t expect many to get it and I can’t really explain it, but let’s just say it gives you a form of clarity that can only come when your life is on the line.
I can’t stress enough how much I honestly have no time for bullshit. So when you see me putting my energy behind this you had best believe it’s for a good reason. The absolute best reason. Me.
To you it may seem as if I’m having a laugh or being disrespectful, petty and bitchy. I get that it may come across as such, but that is your opinion and you are most welcome to it. I’m hoping that my words have managed to convey more than that and you can see that it goes a lot deeper than sheer pettiness. If not, oh well! I can’t make you see it any clearer without the help of a wand and a pensieve!*
OurStory has shown me a lot, and something that you can’t escape but notice being brought up Black back in the day, is that we don’t like to talk and respect is age controlled. You’re to respect your elders regardless. They’ve been here longer than you so it’s an automatic given. Hmmn…
It’s mad the people and things others will show respect to and their reasons for doing so. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for respect – when it’s due! I don’t give a flying fuck how old you are, who you are, or what title you hold: NO ONE is above giving respect, and in turn you will receive it. For me, your actions will determine when it’s given, not hot air and the fact that you’ve managed to exist a few years more than me. Soz! And by actions I don’t mean shit that you’ve accumulated, money included. I’m talking on a humanitarian level.
Religion, especially Christianity, has played a big part in the Black community since way back when, and as we all know it comes with commandments that are supposed to be adhered to. This is one of the issues I have with religion. It’s not the commandments themselves as such, but the fact that most like to work the system.
Way too many believe that their wrongdoings are accounted for because they’ve attended church on a regular basis and given it to God. Because they have confessed their sins the board has been wiped clean and they are free to go at it again. #RepentCheatLieRepeat
I’ve mentioned before that I’m not religious, but I do believe in a higher power. Because I choose not to go to church or follow a book, it doesn’t make me a lesser person or a heathen. Again it goes back to respect and what people perceive to be respectable behaviour. Just because you wear the title of Christian it doesn’t mean you get a free pass on fuckery from me.
Practice what you preach or shut the fuck up. I’m sorry, not sorry, but I won’t respect hypocrites. Despite my beliefs not measuring up to some, they are what I live by and I’m good with that. It’s the reason why I can sit here and write this, because I have the belief that the truth will set me free. I can admit (most) of my faults and flaws to the point of putting it out there for all to see.
If someone comes at me I only have myself to blame and will deal with it accordingly. I plead the fifth (or whatever the English equivalent is) on my actions before 18 years old. I was a minor and have mostly apologised or made amends for any transgressions made during that period. As an adult I will own anything after that time. Any fallouts I may have had with people since then can be justified in my mind and I stand by whatever went down. #SayItWithYourChest
Over the years Dale has tried on many hats. He is the proverbial Mr Benn. On two occasions he tried on the councillor hat, and that was the cause of one of the issues I supposedly created for him.
Up until now, I can understand why you’d want to refrain from publicly forming an opinion on what I’ve written. Without posting every piece of proof I have it’s purely my word on the character of the ‘man’. Fortunately for me, he just can’t help himself.
Wait for it!
2015 was to be a memorable year for so many reasons, and this was definitely a highlight! Before I knew the true extent of his deeds and shit fully went down, I went round to visit my mum one sunshiny day. I pulled up, got out of my car and as I looked up I had to double take and make sure it was the right house I’d come to.
A huge, fuck off, purple and yellow sign was in my mums front room window, clearly displaying that its inhabitants were supporting UKIP! #UWhat
I made my way inside, upstairs and straight to the window to take that shit down! My mum had been diagnosed with dementia by then, but I was pretty sure even she wasn’t afflicted with the level of brain damage it would take to be Black and support them. I was right. That takes a truly special case.
When I walked into the kitchen I noticed a pile of flyers and picked one up. I know people say “I couldn’t believe my eyes!”, but that was really the case. Dales smiling face was looking back at me. He was standing as councillor of Chalvey for fucking UKIP. #UKOCK
Before this point I didn’t have a clue that that was the direction he was heading in. Not a scooby! Like the majority of Black households we were Labour supporters. That’s all I’d ever known. When I got old enough to vote I didn’t for the first few years. As far as I was concerned it was a load of bollocks. They all chatted breeze and came with false promises for better futures. I held fast, then Tony Blair managed to dupe me with promising “Things will only get better!” KMT!
I stopped again after that, and that was me until Brexit. After that shambles I made a promise to myself I am never voting again and I mean it. They’ve had their 3 strikes and even though they can’t decide what they’re doing, I’m well and truly out! #Brexodus
I spoke to my twin to find out whether he knew. He told me Dale had mentioned it to him just before the flyers and newspapers came out. Great! Now, I know everyone has a right to live their life and do what they want – but some manoeuvres you gotta question! Which is exactly what I did.
I called him and asked him if he’d bumped his fucking head. UKIP were rooted in racism, division and hate and he had his big Black face as their token poster boy. In CHALVEY of all places. WTF!? He blew it off and said that there were racists in all of the parties and he believed in their policies so didn’t have a problem with standing for them.
I highlighted the fact that he was preaching about immigrants and the immigration procedure and promising to clamp down on the issue, yet he was one of the people he was preaching about! How could he be so hypocritical? Did he think he was safe because he’d spent a bit of time over here? N***a please!
I tried hard to put my point across but it fell on deaf ears. He was a grown man at the end of the day and it was his decision. If he was comfortable that’s his business. I left him to it and that was it until a couple of weeks later when I bumped into someone in Asda.
She mentioned that Dale had canvassed her house and she’d seen an article in the local paper advertising who was standing for what party and was wondering if I supported them too?
Oh, HELL NO!
There’s not a lot of things I feel I need to defend but THIS was one of them. He had mentioned his links with the church and our mothers name in the blurb on his flyers too, so there was no denying we were aquatinted, and also people might question who mum stood for as well. It was time for me to talk up.
I put a post up on Facebook clearly stating that he alone stood for that bullshit party and to my knowledge no other member of the family were affiliated with them. I made my feelings crystal clear!
IN MY OPINION NO SELF RESPECTING BLACK PERSON OR PERSON OF COLOUR WOULD EVER EVEN THINK ABOUT VOTING FOR THEM, LET ALONE HAVING THEIR FACE PLASTERED ALL OVER PUBLICATIONS AS THEIR TOKEN BLACK BOY! END OF!
I’m really not interested in hearing what excuses those particular fuckwits come up with as to why they choose to do so. Just miss me with the bullshit and know I think less of you for doing so. If you really wanted to make a change there are so many different and more palatable ways to go about it than to join and proudly stand for UKIP.
Dale obviously had no qualms about publicly putting his face out there and I felt the same way in publicly making it known what I was about. This however, didn’t go down well with brother dearest.
I was informed by a sibling that he told them I had been disrespectful and caused him shame and embarrassment by voicing my opinion. Yep, you read right. ME! I was the cause of his shame and embarrassment and I shouldn’t have put my beliefs out there. ME!!
Are Ufuckingkipping me!?! #UKUNT
Naturally there’s no shame whatsoever to be had in him putting his face on flyers and knocking on peoples doors begging for votes. There’s no embarrassment to be had at all in proudly plastering your face all over the place and backing such a party. Of course it’s all my fault because I didn’t show a united front or keep my mouth shut.
Alrighty then!
He managed to muster 343 votes that year, and in 2016 he once again stood for UKIP but representing Cippenham Meadows instead. I’m guessing he thought he could appeal more to the White masses, but managed less votes than the previous year at 229.
I’ve gotta laugh at the fact that he could put himself out there and knock on peoples doors to talk himself up, yet he didn’t have the front to speak to me about anything. Not the fact he was doing it or that he was upset by my post. Instead he decided to be a pussyhole and bitch about it to others. Judging by his character he would have fit in well if he had made it through. He has all the right attributes for that particular job.
Don’t put yourself out there if you’re not prepared to take what comes with it. You create your own problems when you choose to follow certain paths, and his choice to take the steps he did was just that – HIS CHOICE! Own it! I am not about pretending. If you’re looking for a muppet you can think again.
There are no strings on me!😉
R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives recently.
A HUGE congratulations to Dina Asher-Smith and Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce on your wins in the 100m. #BlackGirlMagic at its finest!
*One for the Harry Potter fans!
Affairs Of The Heart
“The situation between myself and Dawn Williams has always been an issue, for whatever reason she has chosen to create problems for me…”
And we’re back to that line! We’ll be coming back to it a few more times still, but for now if you’ve read It’s A Family Affair you’ll have some understanding of today’s topic.
Sometimes life has a way of putting things in your path. In Disclaimer (Part 1) I spoke about signs of the star and mystic variety and the fact that I believe some signs we are meant to see. Dale would have you believe that my life is so boring I have nothing better to do than find myself all up in his business. Like most narcissistic sociopaths (he’s been upgraded), he fails to realise that HIS actions have consequences. Shit doesn’t just disappear because you choose to forget about it!
Back in ‘94 Dale started seeing someone. Our relationship at that point was ok. He had become a born again Christian (😐), attended church twice a week and he surprised the fuck out of me by dating a Black woman! Before then I knew he had dalliances with a few but as far as I was aware and seen, his preference was White women.
She was from Leicester and was lovely. I admit to being amazed he’d bagged her, but then again he does have the gift of the gab and was still fit and good looking so I could see her attraction I guess. She had been doing for herself before meeting him and had a young daughter. We got on really well and she was of Antiguan heritage too so that was an added bonus. We’d often travel up from Slough to go to the carnival or to just visit and were in regular contact – she was good people.
Being completely honest I’d hoped that she might have been the one to set him straight, but I can see now that was mission impossible; and at a time where I possibly held out a little hope he wasn’t a total cunt.
We both fell pregnant in ‘99, me having my eldest in October and her giving birth to my niece in January. By 2004 she got blinded by the light and they were over. I commend her for lasting nearly 10 years.
At that time Dale showed his true colours like you wouldn’t believe but that’s another tale for another day!
During the time of their relationship he was still in contact with his 2 sons from his failed marriage and had introduced them to their little sister. To say his eldest saw sunshine when looking at him is an understatement. His dad was his idol and they both adored him. They had been mostly shielded from the truth of what had caused their parents to split, apart from one encounter when the eldest was about 10.
He had been informed he had another brother and was obviously very upset. He asked his dad and he denied it and said it was all lies. His son naturally accepted it and moved on. Personally, I know he was a child at the time, but I believe it would have been better to tell him the truth. It’s not the truth people need protecting from – it’s the lies! Despite my beliefs, he’s not my child so I kept out.
Fast forward a few years and I’m bopping through Queensmere shopping centre, minding my own business, and I’m stopped by a woman who asked if she could speak to me. She wasn’t familiar to me and I thought she was going to try and sell me some kind of shit, so being the polite person that I am I listened first before shutting her down.
Well!! When she asked if I was Dawn my ears pricked up. I scanned for the lucky heather, and then when she asked if I was Dales sister I did a mental eye roll, inhaled and braced myself. She informed me that she had a daughter by him and wanted to let us know as Dale wasn’t acknowledging anything and she has a right to know who her family are.
It’s not every day you get a random come up and tell you these things. She didn’t look cray-cray but you never can tell, and she was mad enough to get pregnant by him so…👀 I asked a few questions, took her number and told her I would have to talk to my brother and would contact her once I’d done so.
By this time the incident in Antigua had already happened. I was fuming that he could carry on and treat mum the way he did and I’d written him a letter as he was still away to let him know how I felt. If you hadn’t noticed I’m a bit passionate like that. Funnily enough he didn’t appreciate it!
I got a phone call when he got back asking what I was doing sending him letters, so I said no worries, I’ll come and see him instead. I came to the house and explained exactly what my beef was and that was when he again reiterated that he did not get to live the life he wanted because he had to take care of us, and that I was disrespectful in sending him letters disregarding all his years of effort.
I totally understand, love and appreciate him for stepping up and would never do it down – but to say his life was ruined because of it is a little fucking rich. We were born in 1974 and he left home less than 10 years later and was not financially responsible for us way before then so, wtf!? It’s not like by then all of the best years of his life had gone. He would have been in his early twenties – hardly past his frigging prime! Were we seriously going to be held responsible for HIS life? It would appear so.
I left him to wallow in his self pity and we hardly spoke again after that. I really didn’t have time. I grew the hell up at 17 when I left. He was in his forties and still pining about missed opportunities. He had it better than I did as he was still living virtually bill free and rent free, working, running “businesses” and not taking care of any dependents. By this time his ass should have been out of the house a long time ago, but yet here he was, bitching. Fuck off! You can miss me with that bullshit.
Now I had to go and speak to him again after having this bombshell dropped at my feet. As you can imagine that went down well.
I came round to the house to talk to him. I explained the situation and he straight up denied it and tried to make out it was nonsense. I told him there had to be some truth in it. Women don’t usually approach others about these types of things without having some kind of certainty. He then admitted that he had slept with her once and that he knew for a fact that she was sleeping around with lots of other Black men so it was probably one of them.
I pointed out the fact that even if that was the case (which I highly doubt!), it still made him a contender in the baby daddy stakes and the only way to be sure was to take a DNA test. That’s when he lost it and shut it down. He didn’t need to do one because he knew, in my best Maury voice – he was not the father.
I called the woman back and told her what he’d said. She was adamant he was the father and I have to say I believe her – especially after seeing a picture of her daughter. But looks alone is not concrete evidence. Her mum spoke to her and at the time she wasn’t ready to deal with it, which I totally understood, but we have since been in contact. I know there is nothing on paper stating who she is but I’m not about to dismiss her because of it.
Even if it turns out she’s not his I wouldn’t view it as wasted time. What’s wrong with showing a little love regardless? I wish more people put as much effort into loving as they did fucking. The world would be a better place.
By this time his sons were adults and their relationship with their dad was ok but the shine had definitely diminished. We all still lived in the same town so I did what any logical thinking person would do and made it known that they possibly had another sister in Slough. I make no apologies for it. By this time she was nearly 16 and they were males. Shit happens, and I’d prefer it if it didn’t happen between siblings thank you. They took it well, I’m guessing they had already started a little chalkboard of their own!
A few years after that I’m sat at home, minding my own business, and the phone rings. It’s my fiancé. He’s in the barber shop and I’m not going to believe who he’s with. He said he walked in and there was a young man sat down and he looked exactly like Dale so he asked him his name.
It turns out that he was the son that was conceived whilst he was still married – and unbeknown to me at the time, the biggest sign the higher power was to send out!
I did not create any of these ‘problems’. HE CREATED PEOPLE! I wasn’t out digging into his business, I stepped in his shit. But unlike him I dealt with it instead of ignoring it and spreading it further. Because I did this I’m being accused of interfering in his affairs, and yet again I say, so be it.
It’s a family affair once kids are involved, and some of us actually recognise what that entails.
R.I.P to the young boy who passed away in Salt Hill Park and to all those who have lost their lives recently. We seriously need to find a way to combat the madness.
Congratulations to Jharrel Jerome on winning an Emmy for your magnificent portrayal of Korey Wise in When They See Us.
Congratulations to Jurgen Klopp on being named the Best FIFA men’s coach of the year! #YNWA
This was originally published a few years ago but is relevant reading for Tales Of The Dales.
Family. A bunch of people affiliated by blood, marriage or whatever. They can bring you joy, pain, sunshine and rain and this week I was reminded of that.
My impression of family doesn’t stop at the bloodline. It extends to anyone in my life who truly knows me, understands me and takes the time to show me. Someone who will be there by my side – ride or die!
We’re family as long as you do right by me and those around you. I don’t feel obliged to like you because we share blood and I’m not going to dismiss you because we don’t, but that’s just my interpretation. Of course there are plenty of others who don’t think that way. Some believe that being family gives them the right to say and do anything they please and because there is that invisible bond you are tied to their bullshit.
You shouldn’t dare open up your mouth and say anything. You respect them regardless of how they act, don’t talk your business and if anyone asks everything’s fine and all’s good in the hood – and you never bring shame on the family!! Unfortunately for some that’s not my belief.
I suppose it really boils down to what you class as shame. I’ll let you decide which is more shameful. When I was little I had a big brother who I idolised. I’d never known my dad and he was a great substitute. He was big and strong, good looking and popular and I really loved him……then I grew up and began to see people for what they are and I was no longer the little sister that adored him but a teenager that could actually see the real man behind the mask. Hence the start of our rocky relationship!
This is just one of many reasons why we don’t get along. I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t have a dad around but I’ve got a strong belief that if you’re going to have children you should do the job properly or if you can’t then make sure that they are provided for as best you can.
You may have noticed if you’ve read a few of my previous blogs, I’m kinda into my heritage and believe everyone has a right to know where they came from. It’s not so easy for a lot of us to find our true ancestors through ancestry.co.uk so we need to hold on to what we do know and teach our children about where their roots lie. #RealTalk.
On Tuesday I had the pleasure of introducing my mum to her grandson for the first time in 25 years. It was a bittersweet meeting as she now suffers from vascular dementia so was unaware of the true capacity of it, but I believe had she been in her right body and mind it would have been a whole other story!
He’s the product of an affair, which means absolutely nothing to me in the shame stakes but a hell of a lot to certain family members. Nobody’s perfect, and as long as you put your hands up and own it that to me is less of an embarrassment than getting caught out there and denying shit that you know is true.
How you got here is neither here nor there – the fact that you exist is all that matters. At the time he was born I was only 16 and not ‘mixed up in big people business’ so didn’t know the full details. Fast forward 20 years and I got to know. But by me knowing, acknowledging and accepting I am looked down upon at welcoming him with open arms.
To some I’m seen as a traitor – I should be keeping it 100% legit! Others believe I’m just getting back at my brother by getting close to the son he denied for so long. Some just couldn’t give a shit and done got enough family!! – I hear you all, but you are you and I am me, and as much as I see where you’re coming from I’m having real trouble understanding it.
I’ve felt rejection from a parent and it’s not nice. My conscience would not allow me to walk away and disregard a person who didn’t ask to be here and wants to know to whom he belongs. How could I? How can people do it so easily? It’s needed – especially when people shit on their own doorstep and don’t man up about it! You can do your dirty deeds in the dark but when you donate sperm sometimes they pop out in the light!
Tuesday’s meeting should have happened decades ago and I am truly sorry he missed out on mums good years. If people had been open and honest from the beginning things may have been different. I’ve seen the damage lies and deceit cause which is why I only deal in real talk.
I made my intentions clear to my loved ones before even meeting my nephew for the first time and have been vilified by some for doing so, yet they would still expect me to show them respect. Despite who you are to me I cannot and will not respect you on the basis that we are family alone. You’ll get it when you give it.
I’m not ashamed to talk about it openly. There is no shame in standing up and saying a situation ain’t right. In fact if more talking had been done half the things that happened wouldn’t have gone down. I believe there is more shame to be had in ignoring it and trying to convince your family to ignore it too. That shame is all yours – you own it! You had an affair which is your business but when children are a by-product, IT’S A FAMILY AFFAIR so I won’t mind my own! I’ll mind the child you chose to forget!
R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.
Congratulations Team GB, especially mo on your double-double.
Congratulations to Usain Bolt on your triple-triple (medals that is!👀😂)