To paraphrase Midge: J'ai un frère, quel bollocks.

I'm still processing so this will probably be a little ranty, emo and overly dramatic. Also not terribly coherant. Sorry.

So, yeah. As most of you know I haven't spoken to my dad since the great fuck up of November 05. But recently I've been thinking about making up with him, he sent me a card and some cash for my birthday, spoke to Kate on her 21st, I mean, 2 years is long enough to cut your old man out right?

Today I was out shopping in Lincoln (we live in dread of going there anyway cos he lives there) and was sat about waiting for Mum when he comes walking down the street. This would have been weird enough as it was but he's pushing a pushchair. At first I thought it was offspring of whatsherface that he's shacked up with but then I remembered they're all girls and definitely of walking age.

"Hello, how are you" he says, "this is your brother".

I'm out of practice with dealing with him so I wasn't sure if he was taking the piss, trust me it's hard to tell. So I rather shockily started jabbering on about random stuff. He knew about Northampton obviously, didn't say well done for getting one of only 20 places in the country, just told me not to waste it this time. Which if I hadn't been in total shock I would have scratched his eyes out for, being as he's a big cause of me "wasting it" last time.

And then he gets a bit put out by me not acknowledging his brat so he huffs "His name's Charlie by the way". Now here's the big punchline. November 05 that's what, year and a half? This kid? About 3 years old.

And here I was thinking he'd done his worst, hit the highest score on shitty things your father can do to you. You know, the drink driving, the back and forth all the way through a-levels, the lies. He still manages to mess me up. I really hate that.

So since Boxing Day, the Aga has broken down and needed a service, the electricity has gone on the fritz and last night I nearly killed the dog *headdesk*. How you guys doing? No mass murder of relatives over Christmas I hope. Unless they really really deserved it and you were careful with fingerprints and stuff.

But yeah, a whole week of disasters Richardson style. Ya know, I remember when this shit didn't start till January. Does this mean by the time we get to February things might have calmed down or will it just drag on twice as long as normal? If it does.......well, who wants a houseguest? I promise to pick my stuff up and not puke in your favourite shoes when I'm wasted.

Thankfully the Aga is now fixed so we can cook things via other methods than the microwave and the kettle, the electricity seems to be behaving itself and the dog made it through the night. I should know, we were all awake most of last night. Trouble is she's a Jack Russell and she's bloody fast and tends to eat every fucking thing on her level. And being that I think she might actually be part kangaroo her level covers more um levels than you'd imagine. In fact, I think she might actually be a distant relation of The Eater Of Socks. Anyway, the little darling managed to nab the opened but not yet eaten bar of chocolate I left on the chair. Bugger. You've all seen that episode of The Simpsons when Bart feeds Maggie the coffee ice cream? Well times that by 50, give her four legs and add in the factor that at any second she might collapse and have a seizure and your looking at how I spent last night. None of us got to do that whole sleep thing last night.

Aaaanyway. I can't believe this year is nearly bloody over. Can't believe it's been nearly a year since I spoke to a group of people I thought I'd always be friends with. It's weird. Not drastically painful weird, just a bit sore. That seems to be one of the things I've learnt this year, always doesn't mean forever. Oooh melodrama. Well, wouldn't be me without it.

I also appear to have no plans for New Years. Woe. Then agan, given the last two years unmitagated cock ups that's probably a good thing.