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Last night at 7:30 pm we left M’s father and brother at the port for them sailing home. It was a great relief. My initial thoughts detailed in “Family Visit” were on target. Friday we collected them at the port and drove the hour back home. M’s brother could not wait to start, or should I say, carry on drinking, which he did as though his life depended on it, quite literally inhaling the beer. However, I looked past this as I knew it would be like this and carried on with the evening. Eventually, everyone went to bed just before midnight as it had been a long day for them.
Saturday came, and M’s dad was up and about clattering about the kitchen at 6 am, so being a good host I got up and made tea, chatted then made breakfast for everyone. We went to Liverpool as M’s dad wanted to see both of the cathedrals there, which I was happy to take them to. Talk of going for Lunch at the docks was made, and his brother, being a complete ass hole said he, M and his dad could go and have lunch and bring something to me when they had finished as I had the dogs with me. I thought you cheeky bastard, so I have to sit and be a taxi, so he can go and get more drink down his neck. Needless to say, M was not happy about this and told him that this was not going to happen. Eventually, I took us to a pub on the river, and as it was a nice sunny day I said we can sit outside and eat (as lots of other people were doing) and the dogs could sit in the sun rather than in the car. This was met with complete disdain and they decided they wanted to sit inside. I left all the windows and the sun roof open and went in reluctantly, after about 10 minutes, I went outside and checked on the dogs and gave them another drink and made sure they were okay. His brother was throwing the beer down his neck at a rate of knots by this time, and I knew this was his real reason for being there. I went back in ate some of my lunch and walk out after about 10 minutes as I was not going to leave the dogs any longer stuck in the back of a hot car and took them for a walk. About 20 minutes later they came out, M had a face of thunder as he was totally pissed off that they were not listening.
His brother decided that he needed to go to the docks and look round the shops there and get the kids presents (why I have no idea as they were only away for a few nights), and dropped in the conversation that he wanted to go and watch the match at one of the Irish pubs. I assured him that I was not going to sitting about until 6 pm waiting on him and he would have to get the train back. M’s dad did not seem to agree with my thinking, but I was not going to stand for it. I dropped him off close to the pub and took us all back home.
Just after 6 pm, M’s brother sent a text to say he was about to get the train and would see us all soon. But again, rather than doing that, he decided to go to the pub by the station and carry on drinking, this time vodka, and after about 40 minutes finally got on the train.
Close to 8 pm I made us all dinner, which was not really eaten by M’s brother with the excuse that the fish he had at lunch had filled him and his stomach was suffering because of it. I found this laughable as he had drunk that much beer and vodka that this was more likely the reason for him being full and ill.
As soon as I started cleaning up, M’s brother decided he had to go to the shops and get some more beer. Now the shop is 5 minutes walk, take that into account both ways and say 5 minutes in the shop he should have been gone for 15 minutes, however, that time was doubled and we think he had gone into the village bar and had a few more drinks on his way.
Again he was literally inhaling the beer when he got back, but rather than drink one, put the empty can in the bin and get another one, he decided to have two on the go at the same time, obviously wanting to keep both hands exercised. No one else was drinking, but that did not phase him at all. Then he kicked his “spare” beer across my new carpet. I only noticed as one of the dogs started lapping it all up. This really was the last straw for me, and I exploded. I have a very short temper and do not suffer fools or drunks. He told me he would clean it up, I laughed in his face, and pushed past him and cleaned it up properly, and spot shampooed the carpet. I could not hide my hate for this man and wanted to break his neck and kick him out. About 15 minutes later he decided to go to bed, but I think this was because he could see my anger.
Last time he was at our home, 13 years ago, he and his wife decided to start fighting, which I would not allow in my house, he thought he would try his luck with me, so I pinned him against the wall by his neck pulled back my fist and told him one more word and I would beat the living daylights out of him. He had disrespected us and our house, not just fighting, but dropping lit cigarettes as he was that drunk.
Sunday, their final day came, he finally got out of bed at 10 am and told M that he could not go to Liverpool today. M asked him what made him think we were going to ferry him there again, and that that was never going to happen again. I needed to go to the farm and get more milk, walk the dogs and go to the farmers’ supermarket for a few bits. They all came with me, but he decided that he needed to go shopping for things for the kids. M told him to go up the road and get what he needed there as we were not going to have a repeat of yesterday. As soon as we got back he decided that he needed a beer to “level him out”, it was just after 1 pm, and of course one is never enough for an alcoholic, and after 3 he ate a bit of his lunch and decided to go back to bed as he was tired. When he eventually go up again, he went straight to the fridge and got more beer, and this went on until we left for the port.
I needed to go to the farm and get more milk, walk the dogs and go to the farmers’ supermarket for a few bits. They all came with me, but he decided that he needed to go shopping for things for the kids. M told him to go up the road and get what he needed there as we were not going to have a repeat of yesterday. As soon as we got back he decided that he needed a beer to “level him out”, it was just after 1 pm, and of course one is never enough for an alcoholic, and after 3 he ate a bit of his lunch and decided to go back to bed as he was tired, although I think he was in hiding. When he eventually go up again, he went straight to the fridge and got more beer, and this went on until we left for the port.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I like a beer now and again, but as I am out driving all the time I do not partake, and I have no problem with people having a drink, but obsessive boozing round the clock with no care about the people around them really annoys me.
I tried my hardest to keep my feelings to myself and my temper in check due to M’s dad being there, but it was showing, and I could not wait for them to go back to Ireland. I told M that his brother was no longer welcome in our home, and if he suggests coming to visit us again to pass the phone to me and I would inform him of my feelings and that he was not welcome, that this was my decision, and that if he has a problem then he needs to take it up with me and me alone.
The sad thing is that this weekend was supposed to be about M’s dad visiting us for the first time, but the brother made it about him and his alcoholism.
They say you cannot choose your family, but I for one will choose not to be in M’s brother’s company again.
I do not want to sound uncharitable, but I really cannot be bothered with the forthcoming visit by the in-laws. I know, I sound positively dreadful saying this, but I feel the need to say it. M’s father and brother are coming over this week from Ireland for the weekend. Now, I hear you all saying, well, what is wrong with that. The simple answer is this, I cannot be bothered with it all. Yes, I am a miserable sod, but I love my own space, and quite frankly prefer the quiet life. This, of course, is not against M’s family, I feel the same way about my family. A visit of a few hours to me is like a handshake, but a weekend is like a hug, which I do not do (yes, you guessed it, I am not demonstrative at all).
We have built our home around us, and the things that we like and enjoy, along with our dogs. We have three bedrooms, so have room for guests, and the guest rooms are always ready for said visitors, but I like, no, I love the vacancy of the rooms. I know, I can hear the rolling of your eyes, but I cannot change the way I am. Whenever we have had guests stay over, 90% of the time I have wanted to rip my arm off and hit them with it shouting at them “it is time to go, come on, don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out”. That feeling is usually as soon as I get up which is always early. Our nieces stayed for a week a few years ago, and I felt I had been sent to hell, and was shacking up with the devil himself. The room they occupied was quite literally and figuratively destroyed, makeup on the bedding, their hair straighteners left on, sitting on the bed, trying to burn its way through and finally set fire to the house. Luckily, I had the intelligence to check every day. This along with the floor containing everything they brought with them (no carpet or rugs could be seen), and a mountain of rubbish and other detritus scattered there and in our lounge made me vow never to have anyone else stay over ever again, a vow to this day I have never broken.
Another visitor/guest was my little brother. A good few years back he came for Christmas. Well, he invited himself to be accurate, but I thought I would go along with it. Christmas Eve, he turned up drunk, hours after he was supposed to have arrived, he stayed until Boxing day morning as he was going to my Mum’s as she always has a gathering of the family, an occasion I avoid like the plague. I dropped him off and drove back home like a lunatic so that I could start my Christmas, but in all honesty, it was a Christmas that never was.
When we were given the dates of them coming, we set to work on correcting little things about the house, like touching up a few scuff marks on paintwork, putting away our current projects and making sure the guest rooms are clean and freshened up. Laundering of the guest towels to ensure maximum freshness etc. It has not been much of an effort, but it was things that needed to be done.
Next on the list is planning all the meals I have to cook whilst they are here, that was not too much of a bind, and I hope that they like what they are given, at least I am a great cook. Then it’s the entertainment, what to do, where to go, will they want to go out sight seeing or just potter about the village, should I dig out my chauffeur’s cap?
I am utterly exhausted and they have not arrived yet, at this rate I will be ready for my grave by the time they leave.