Mum pulled a horrible stunt the other night, she said we were going to go and get my iPod and then go and see pappa- I consented because I wanted the iPod you know and so we went- Argos had closed one minute before so we went straight on to Pappa’s. I had figured that she’d been drinking but I figured that she wasn’t over the limit. She was I think now. So we got there. We went in, we sat down, watched telly for a while and then I got all fidgety- I wanted to go. Mum then said that she couldn’t find the keys for the car. She was lying. I was getting madder and madder. Then I found out that she was absolutely and completely smashed. I was angry. Especially as she had planned it. I knew it because in her bag she had brought a corkscrew and she had brought her pills along- showing that she was intending all along to stay there. She had trapped me. My dad was angry too but not as much as me. Let me paint the picture of my dads house, it is a shit hole. There are about 3 layers of different substances on the floor. In the kitchen there are over ten empty bottles of cider under the table, the oven has a thick brown layer of gunk covering the top and dripping down the front and the counter had unidentifiable food stuffs and filthy moulding plates that had obviously been festering for months. The fridges walls are invisible behind a black sheen of mould. That’s just to start with. I haven’t been there in over a year. And I have a feeling that nothing has been cleaned since then. It’s disgusting. And my mum had trapped me there and wanted me to stay there over night. So I stole some money out of her purse and rang a taxi, it cost her £25.00. Serves her right. I then came home, told Nonny (my sister) and we sat down and watched Narnia. That was nice. My mum then came home the next day with my dad in tow and they just sat in the living room drinking and talking loudly and drinking some more. Then when I mentioned that I couldn’t think of anything worse right now than getting married, he went into a half hour rant about how much he hated “queers”, “dykes” and “poofs”. I hadn’t said one single thing about being gay. It kinda annoyed me.
Anyway he’s gone home now.
Randomly I suddenly the other day I got a flashback memory that I hadn’t thought about for years. It was when my dad was living in Wangford. I was about 4. Something had happened; I don’t know what and they were arguing about it. They had locked me in the room that I stayed in when I was at his and I could here them through the walls, yelling and yelling at each other- well, mainly my dad, he always shouts. And I remember him yelling at my mum that he was going to cut her breasts off. (He used the word “tits” but I hate that word). I don’t know why I remembered it all of a sudden but I did. My sisters always said that I had a horrible childhood but they weren’t around much and they hate my dad so I just thought it was a very prejudiced view. But maybe I did. The fact is I can’t remember. I can barely remember anything about my child hood except odd snippets that feel like dreams. It’s horrible, every time that I think about it. I remember when he said it that I could imagine it so clearly. I still can.

Can I?