there's always one rotten apple!!!

In the Summer of my twelfth year, I learned another valuable lesson-- not all of your family can be trusted.
One of my aunts, named Mary, was married to a Polish man called William. My other uncles and aunts didn't really get on with them for two reasons. One, they owned their own house in which they are living---making them snobs. The other reason was, because my Uncle William they said "was a bloody foreigner" and this I heard from my own mother's mouth--- one Sunday morning, when she was talking to her sister, my Aunt May.

Yet, despite all of these criticisms, Mary and William used to have me at their house a lot during the holidays to play with my cousins, Peter and Paul, and never forgot anyone's birthday--always came on Christmas eve with presents for everyone. Mine was always a ten bob note (50 pence) but this Christmas, it was a fishing rod complete with reel, line, hooks and floats---making me so keen for Spring to come.

box of chocolates...

A lot of you must wonder why I don't talk about  my mum on here. Truth be told, I really did not know her. Apart from sometimes seeing her at supper---very occassionally. She spent so many hours at work that our paths rarely crossed. On the odd occassion that I saw her, she usually was sleeping. At that time, it was not uncommon for people in the nursery industry (greenhouse) to work 90 hours a week. 

My one real regret is that by the time I left school, my mum was really more like a person I just happened to know. That is why you will mainly read stories of my grandfather, my nan and uncles.

I regret it, but that's life. 

As Forest gump says in the film: "life is a box of chocolates-- you don't know which one you will get."