Then I realised the date. January 17th - the birth day of my father, Grumblebum. How could I not do a Memoir Monday dedicated to him on his birthday? Now I just need to dig into those dark recesses of my cobweb filled mind to find one I have yet to share here...
Ah yes... How to Dump a Boy without ever Uttering a Word
I mentioned in another post on Grumblebum how tall and *ahem* large he was in life. (Yeah, go back, look at the one linked in his name back up a bit). What I did not mention was that he suffered from a slight hearing loss. Which made his already loud voice LOUDER. BOOMING in fact. Sort of like those really ear-bursting announcements you hear over the microphone in some stores. The ones that make you need a change of underpants.
Now, for all my brashness I have an affliction which made it difficult for me to tell the boys of my youth when I lost interest. Yep, Madmother has... a soft heart. I just could not make myself dump someone, it was just too crushing to frail teenage male egos. So, I utilised my secret weapon.
Grumblebum. How, you may ask? No, I didn't tell porkies and have him go out seeking vengeance for his daughter's reputation. I just, ah, made use of circumstances. And my Dad's loud voice, short fuse and lack of tolerance. My Dad spent most evenings after work at the Bowling Club. Great Aussie tradition, the Bowling Club. Leave work, head to the club for a couple of hours, unwind away from nagging family, come home ooh, around 7ish for tea. With a *cough* few schooners under his belt.
Sooooooo, when young Madmother needed to
I'd avoid said boy over a period of around a week or so. Have Wise Woman field phone calls (easier in the days before mobiles), keep away from usual hang outs, run in other direction if visual contact made. Until said boy, out of sheer frustration, would turn up on doorstep. Frantically run around turn off all lights. Hide in house until, unbenownst to boy, Grumblebum shambles up driveway and in back door. To dark house. "What the blazes is going on here?" usually first words as he trips then finds kitchen light. At light and sign of life, said boy frantically pounds on front door, holds finger on really annoying *ding-ding-dingaling-ding* doorbell and yells out my name. Sorta like Brando in Streetcar, but instead of STELLA he calls MADMOTHER...
At this point Grumblebum storms to front, yanks door open, and with bright red face, standing 6ft 2", weighing over 20 stone, booms out "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" top of his considerable lungs. Cue rapidly shrinking teenage boy stuttering, stumbling, mumbling, slowly backing away from enraged father, muttering... "I am here to see Madmother, is she here?"
"No! And don't bother coming back."
They never did. Bad, Madmother, bad.
Happy Birthday, Dad. And they wonder where I get it from, lol.
Party hard in heaven Lulu. Yes, after the tragic loss of Lucy's sister Amy only a week or so ago, the family now has to cope with the sudden death of our own dear Lulu, under very similar, heart-breaking circumstances to her sister. You will never be forgotten, dear girl. xx
The world is a truly grey place at the moment.