Originally posted by Citizen Koba
View Post
'Pends what you mean '****ty'... Mum's still alive and going strong in her late 70s relentlessly practical and a willful force of nature, kind but not really demonstrative or given to displays of emotion... See her on the Len Johnson study thread I did in the history sec. Stoic and unflappable... plenty of stories of her own about travelling around Eurpoe by herself or with me and my brother toddling after her. Trained as nurse as a youngster, never thought herself very bright, but went then to University in her late 30s picked up first a degree then a Masters in clinical research. Strong woman.
Barely saw my old man til I was about 9 years old, cos he couldn't get a visa to come live in the UK,,, never doubted for a second I was loved or that he would die (or more likely kill) for me, but the dude was messed up, volatile, in turns extremely loving and passionate about life but also prone to brooding silences for weeks followed by explosive outbursts. Ain't really surprising though once I learned some of **** he'd been through later but as a kid kinda hard to figure out. His family got caught up in the Greek civil war, saw his house burned down as a toddler and got caught up in the politics of the Junta and tortured in prison, became a dealer and pimp after that, fund his habit... only kicked when he came to the UK in about '81. Man was hard and had old school ideas about raising sons that stood out a little in the sleepy rural village where I grew up.
Couldn't seem to stop myself provoking him though... my older brother just kept his head down and scuttled off to university soon as he got the chance, but seemed like I just couldn't help trying to needle him. Figured out later it was because I couldn't stand the fear waiting for the violence to come so provoking it on my timescale at least gave me some kinda control over it. I always did have a quick mouth anyway though, probably got me into as many sc****s as it got me out of.
By the time I was 15 and 16 though the fights were starting to get serious and my ma got hurt a coupla times caught in the middle, time I was 17 I knew I hadda go or one of us (probably me) was gonna end up in hospital or dead. Left home coupla days after my 17th Birthday, packed a bag, never looked back.
Did start spending a bit more time with em both after a few years but never healed things with my old man - not really. Dude died 2011, August I think. 10 years ago near as dammit. Dunno don't really even think about him... kinda regret not trying harder to learn more about him even if my anger ran a bit too deep to really forgive him even 20 years after I left.
It's probably significant that my own road back to something like a normal life seemed to pick up pace after he died though, so maybe it cleared something, gave me some kinda closure maybe.
Barely saw my old man til I was about 9 years old, cos he couldn't get a visa to come live in the UK,,, never doubted for a second I was loved or that he would die (or more likely kill) for me, but the dude was messed up, volatile, in turns extremely loving and passionate about life but also prone to brooding silences for weeks followed by explosive outbursts. Ain't really surprising though once I learned some of **** he'd been through later but as a kid kinda hard to figure out. His family got caught up in the Greek civil war, saw his house burned down as a toddler and got caught up in the politics of the Junta and tortured in prison, became a dealer and pimp after that, fund his habit... only kicked when he came to the UK in about '81. Man was hard and had old school ideas about raising sons that stood out a little in the sleepy rural village where I grew up.
Couldn't seem to stop myself provoking him though... my older brother just kept his head down and scuttled off to university soon as he got the chance, but seemed like I just couldn't help trying to needle him. Figured out later it was because I couldn't stand the fear waiting for the violence to come so provoking it on my timescale at least gave me some kinda control over it. I always did have a quick mouth anyway though, probably got me into as many sc****s as it got me out of.
By the time I was 15 and 16 though the fights were starting to get serious and my ma got hurt a coupla times caught in the middle, time I was 17 I knew I hadda go or one of us (probably me) was gonna end up in hospital or dead. Left home coupla days after my 17th Birthday, packed a bag, never looked back.
Did start spending a bit more time with em both after a few years but never healed things with my old man - not really. Dude died 2011, August I think. 10 years ago near as dammit. Dunno don't really even think about him... kinda regret not trying harder to learn more about him even if my anger ran a bit too deep to really forgive him even 20 years after I left.
It's probably significant that my own road back to something like a normal life seemed to pick up pace after he died though, so maybe it cleared something, gave me some kinda closure maybe.
i prefer his works in Spanish
Citizen Koba
Comment