I was going to post about the classic car rally we watched and how Ziggy had settled and show you a picture of him quietly sleeping in his bed but I might have to do this another day because this morning I just have to unburden myself about my father in law.
Regular readers will know about my father in law and will remember last year's 'critical bread incident'. Not sure if that links you directly to the day but certainly to the month (just scroll down to the post!)
Having told oldest daughter that she had to be in on Monday 'because Grandad is staying and it would be nice to do something together as a family', Grandad announces that he doesn't want to do the day out that I had tried to plan - first I suggested Gainsborough's house in Sudbury, then the seaside, then a walk in the country (to which he said 'I live in the country' - yes, Graham but you live inthe country in SPAIN, which is quite different to ENGLAND!). So as we were getting ready to go out somewhere for the day and have a nice lunch 'all together' he announces he didn't feel like it and he would take himself down to town, wander about and then have a pint in a pub somewhere. Well! As he left the house he said 'Don't worry, I won't be long, about two hours'. Six hours later he pitches up! Drunk as a skunk, having been in the local pub all that time. I think the guy is an alcoholic. I didn't witness the home coming because I was in the cinema with the girls (Spider Man 3 actually, too long, not really my kind of film, thanks for asking). So, according to Andy, he pitched up, slurring, helped himself to loads of bread and cheese, leaving crumbs and cupboards open as he went, ate them, sat on the sofa with a blanket over himself and promptly fell asleep.
The film went on for ever and we didn't get in until half past eight, by which time I had decided not to bother cooking any supper - the girls had gorged on pop corn (and I'd had just a handful or two too!). So, I got in, the girls disappeared to their various spots inthe house and I sat with Andy at the kitchen table with a bottle of vino tinto between us. Andy said 'when my dad reappears he'll say he didn't have any lunch in the pub because he thought you were cooking tonight - that's how he'll turn it around and justify his tightness'. Ten minutes or so later, Graham enters and sits down with us. 'Aren't you cooking tonight?' he asks. 'No, it's a bit late don't you think?' I said. 'Oh, I didn't eat in the pub because I thought we were having a meal at home' he said. 'Oh, Andy said you'd had a couple of sandwiches when you got in are you still hungry?' said I. 'Yes' said he. He was still drunk. I asked him how his day had been 'Oh marvellous, I met lots of people, blah blah blah'
What I just can't understand is that we see this man once a year, he comes over every May for four weeks (luckily just three this year). He never has any contact with his only grandchildren (ours) or gives them presents or anything. And now, on the one day his only son has off he doesn't want to spend it with us. I'm feeling like a bit of a hotel actually. He's manipulative to the extreme. Yesterday, (this is a small point but they all build up) the butter ran out in the morning - the shopping is ordered for tonight so I don't like to go out and buy stuff I'd rather just make do without butter for 24 hours - I buttered his toast at breakfast and then said 'That's the last of the butter until the shopping comes tomorrow afternoon'. Last night when he was making himself yet another sandwich, he said 'where's the butter?' I said 'It's all gone' He said 'Oh why didn't you say I would have got some FOR YOU when I was out'. 'I DID say, Graham' I said. He does this ALL the time. He drinks the beer in the fridge (all 20 bottles) saying each time 'I'll get some more when I go to town'. When he comes back he says 'I forgot to take my rucksack so couldn't get any' or some other lame excuse which he has done deliberately.
I know this all sounds so petty, but these things build up. The worst thing about him though is that he does NOT take a blind bit of interest in us. He has not asked Andy about work, about his cycling, about our last holiday, about our NEW house or expressed any interest even in where our house is! Nor has he asked the children about their lives. He just sits at the table wittering on about what he's done. The sad thing is, is that he is telling us the same stuff as last year as if these things have happened in the last year, when I know that they didn't. So in reality the poor guy has got nothing to tell us, nothing has happened to him in the last year. He gets up, he goes to the bar, he comes home, he falls asleep in front of the telly. That's his life.
I feel sorry for him alot but my patience is wearing thin.