Distractions

So lately I’ve been really busy. I serve on the alter at church. Normally I serve at the 11 o’clock mass with my sister, F, and another young boy who has only really just started and doesn’t serve every week. My sister is MC (Master of Ceremonies) which means she is in charge and I am her deputy. Obviously Easter is a big celebration to Christians. I go to a Catholic church so the services are huge. We had practices for each service we would be serving at and had to join up with other younger alter servers who serve at different masses. My sister may be in charge and so she organise most of it but I do the bossing about because it comes naturally for me!

We had a practice on Thursday at 12 and then got to the church at 7 ready for the service to start at 8 and end at 10. It wasn’t that bad although most of the other servers had never done any Easter celebrations and they were young and so they failed to listen and do as they were told; they were very annoying. We had lots of bells and singing and it was quite cool really. On Friday it was so tiring. We had a practice at 11 and got to church by 2 for the 3-5 service. This was my least favourite because even though I love to be kept busy doing lots of important jobs I literally had to stand for most of the two hours and it was exhausting. I normally love the Easter Vigils on Saturday nights but last nights was the worst- this was down to most of the servers we had never worked with before. We had our practice at 11 and we tried not to give out too many jobs that they would get confused with and they seemed to understand. We got to the church at around 7, another service 8-10 (or so it was a bit longer than 10 and we had to clear up after), there are a few moments in the service where the lights are turned off and we all have candles. I was putting out pots of candles and handing out leaflets, however so many of the younger ones wanted to help and at first I let them but then they just got annoying and wouldn’t go away or do as they were told. I let this drop when everything started and we headed outside as planned for a fire that starts of the ceremony…things were going okay- until we were heading back into the church. The plan was that the alter servers would part let the priests through and then file out with the people at the back coming through first (doesn’t really make sense when it’s worded like that), but it didn’t happen like this. The youngest alter servers didn’t let the priests go first and just left in a messy line instead of pairs and they were all over the place. Anyway things went on and the younger children were all sitting talking, fidgeting and turning around (SO ANNOYING!). But that wasn’t the worst thing. The most annoying boy ever was messing about with his candle and encouraging the boy next to him to do the same thing- so inevitably they made a nice fire (SIDE NOTE: The floor and benches are all made of wood) and then one of them dropped it….ugh I’m not going to go in to any more detail about it. Basically it was a mess.

So this morning came and I got a few eggs and money and we went to see my Nana and Granddad in Maidstone and it was all lovely jubbley. I had planned to go out with my mum and my sister tomorrow and we would go shopping. The day before we go back to school. The only reason I am writing this down is because all of it is just a distracting from my other feelings.

I would rather be feeling angry or annoyed about some stupid little children than feeling hurt or alone. I am enjoying the fact and making the most of getting on with my mother because I know she has to work, people always seem to take what I say the wrong way, I’m not saying she can just take the afternoon of to do something with me but every time we plan something she just always seems to be at work. And she is always tiered and that makes her moody so we are always arguing because she picks on the smallest of things. And I’m trying to make the most of having a sister because I know she is doing her A Levels and I know she has to do a lot of studying and stuff but the problem is that is all she does. Almost every single day of this holiday she has gone back up to school to do more revision or work and I just never see her anymore and because of these things I hide away in my room on my laptop or reading or doodling and because of this I am drifting away from the people I love most. That is why I say Olivia is closer than family because I talk to her and see her more than I see my real family. She makes time for me and she listens to me, we have the same interests and Kate and I have so much in common. I want to be part of their families because they mean so much to me and that may sound soppy but it’s true!

I don’t like feeling distant or alone and I’m getting sick and tiered of not being able to see my dad. Because I cant see him I cant see most of my family because they all live in Ireland and it would be too easy for him to come over and because I cant see them I cant even see SD and it’s so frustrating because I want to be part of a big friendly family and meet them before they all grow up and I become completely cut off. I am claustrophobic and living in these circumstances I can feel very trapped and it really isn’t good. I’m beginning to lose the will to live because sometimes I just feel like there is no point in trying any more because I just end up becoming even more out of reach and get hurt all over again, sometimes I just don’t feel like there is anything in life worth fighting for. I want to be free! I love my family so much but often I wish I could just get a job and move out, have a stable life and live in a house that is mine and I never have to move again because I’ve already moved 8 times and lived in a campervan! I WANT TO ACT!!!But this is what my problem is I don’t just want to anymore I need to. It means the world to me and I want to have the freedom, fun and happiness acting brings you. It is my life long dream! I think about it all the time! All the things I could do and all the things I could be. I don’t think about all the small boring things in life, I dream big and I’m hoping I will get there some how. I want to be known, I want to be someone that people look up to, I don’t care if I’m not rich as long as I can ACT!!! I’m so passionate about acting but I just don’t know how to get noticed.

I want to be someone people prefer to my sister. Now don’t get me wrong I am not selfish or big headed or an attention seeker and I don’t want everyone to hate her and not me. I love her and we are very close. It’s just that everyone I meet seems to prefer her to me and find her more interesting, I’m just that annoying thing that trails around after her that isn’t important. I don’t want everyone to prefer me to her only one or two people because sometimes I meet a really nice person and they talk to me and listen but as soon as they find out she exists I am forgotten. People tell me this is not the case but that is what it feels like to me. Just in case some people didn’t get the message I will repeat my self: THAT IS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO ME! Also I love to draw and to act but my sister does too. When my mum looks at her work she is so fascinated “OH WOW! It’s amazing, such fantastic work, oh it’s beautiful, wow it’s fantastic, oh it’s just simply amazing, you are so talented and wow oh wow!” (and so on) but when I try to show her mine it can reduce me to tears because sometimes she says things like “Did you really draw that?” “Did you trace that? Is it your own work?” “You’re getting as good as SR”

Now some people may find things like this a compliment but let me explain my issue. “Did you really draw that?” Yes of course I did. Why do you always have to ask? I don’t understand why you have to question my work and not SR’s. She has always been good at art and I may not have but that doesn’t mean I cant be good now! Why do you have such little faith in me? How come you seem to lack in trust when I tell you something, it’s the same when I write poems and ask for you to check it and you ask if it really came out of my head. Please stop because it hurts and I find it insulting that you wouldn’t even think that your own child would come up with such work. “Did you trace that? Is it your own work?” I didn’t trace it no. I copied it but that is different and I very often change many things about it. I cant always get things in my head onto a page and so I need help from other pictures. So it is sort of my own work yes but also no. Why does it matter anyway? I was still holding the pencil. And it may surprise you that a lot of SR’s work is also copied and changed a little but you never ask her about her work do you? Why is that I wonder? “You’re getting as good as SR” Now many people are very confused as to why I find this and insult and not a compliment if my sister’s work is so great. Well let me tell you. My work is my work. I have a different style, taste and a different set of thoughts. I love SR’s work but I don’t want to be like her. I want to be like me and people to look at my work and think “Oh how wonderful, very interesting it really shows your effort and you feelings in this way and that” instead of thinking “Oh how splendid but SR would have done this and did SR do that bit and how many ideas did SR give you?”. It may be important to let you know that on this topic my sister has very similar opinions and thinks it is unfair for people to compare my work to hers.

I have quite a few loves, interests and hobbies but none of them can overtake my love for acting, that only my friends really think I have a passion for and my family thinks I’m copying my sister because she loves acting too. I love reading and writing and I would love to publish a book one day but I cant really make them long enough without making them boring too. I love drawing and doodling and making a mess but I get frustrated when things don’t go right. I watch Sherlock intently and play episode after episode admiring greatly the work of Benedict Cumberbatch. I talk about Hunger Games with my friends and watch cast interviews. I think how cool it would be to be a You Tuber, I love photography but the cameras and lenses are too expensive, I love working with young children and think I could do well as a primary school teacher but then I would still be stuck in the boring life cycle of the average human being which I explained in my last post. I find little fault with acting and I fall in love with the idea of working on a set of a big time film and working with my favourite actors, the people I admire, getting to know new people, having fun, going to premiers, winning awards, maybe even attending the Oscars. I’ve thought about everything and I want the day dreams in my head to come to life. I want to stand out and to be recognised and for people to think I have talent.

I think acting is one of the most amazing experiences a person like me can have and I love it. I want to be the person I see in my head. I desperately want to be in a big film, I think it could help me escape the problems I have and help me to leave the boring and depressing feelings I feel behind! I wish I had the support and opportunities to help me accomplish my dream.

I am a quick learner and determined and will do anything to get where I want to be!

Swimming at the Deep End

Do you ever get annoyed by the fact that only the bad things you do are recognised? No one ever seems to notice the good things unless you make a point about them. It’s annoying and it gets on my nerve. Similar when my family think I’m selfish but they don’t actually see the things I’ve given up for them. They may not notice that I put them first but I do and I don’t feel like they are grateful, sometimes.

I sat down with my mum a while ago and I told her that I wanted contact with my father. I know that in my posts he may not seem like a nice man and he may even seem cruel, but that is not how I see him at all. He has never actually done anything wrong to me that will permanently effect me and so I have no reason to avoid him or hate him and so I love him. My mum said that she could talk to some people who would help me to get contact with him but there was a lot to think about:

It would mean having to go back to court, it would be tough on my and it could effect my school, I would get Legal Aid but my mum would have to pay maybe thousands to go back to court, other people in the family might get upset, the social idiots would get more involved in my life, my mum could get into trouble if my dad used things against her, I may not even get contact with him.

At some point I did feel as is all of this was to put me off, but then again it was all true. I gave up the chance to get contact with my dad because I knew my mum struggled anyway and I didn’t want to hurt my family. However no one seemed to notice what I had done for them and so now I am fed up with it. What is the point of being caring and trying to put my family first if they do not even recognise what I have done? I don’t want to wait till I am 18 to be able to see my father or I’ll simply break. It’s not fair and I will not put up with it. I was once talking to this stupid, ignorant man who thought he knew better. I was saying how I couldn’t wait 5 years to see my father and he was said:

“Yes but it’s only 5 years and when you look back those 5 years will be nothing and you can spend as much time with your father as you like, it will be nothing.”

Well let me tell you something Mr I Know Better than You and I don’t Even Understand your Situation, it has been longer than 5 years since that ‘law’ has been in place and so do you really think I will look back when I’m older and think “Oh just most of my life wasn’t really that long was it? Oh silly me for getting so worked up about it!” NO! Of course you don’t understand you bloody idiot! I have spent almost all of my life away from my father and another point against your stupidity is that the 5 years left that I have to wait is the only 5 years left I have of childhood, so of course I’m not going to look back and think those last 5 years were nothing because they are something; They are the 5 years I had a chance to do something and the 5 year chance my dad had to see his last child grow up and he missed it!

It may amuse you to know that I no longer talk to this stupid little man and ignore him whenever I walk past him although for some reason he thinks he is funny and tries to make me smile or laugh- always failing to do so.

Missing my dad isn’t like having homesick. It’s not like going away for a year and really wanting your parents. It’s actual pain. The pain of missing my dad is so bad it’s almost physical. I can actually feel like it because it’s really there and it genuinely makes me feel heavy. It is actual heart ache. I feel weighed down by the pain inside me and no one seems to understand this. Sometimes it hurts so much it reduces me to tears. This isn’t just some example, metaphor or whatever you want to call it, this actually happens. I’m not a big fan of crying in public and I don’t like to be babied so I keep my weeping to my bed at night where I can sob in peace and no one will know. What really annoys me is when I tell someone this and they say “No you don’t!” and I just get so mad because how would they know? Do they have hidden cameras in my bedroom? Do they stalk me and look at me through the window? Are they just some creep? Why do people ALWAYS think they know best? I HATE IT!

I don’t believe in Happy Ever After. I’ve always found happy endings impossible and I can only hope that someone will one day prove me wrong by making me feel happy. It is rare that I feel happy at the same time to feeling oblivious to my situation and so I have often felt what the point of life is. Why cant I just give up? If I don’t become an actress I will just spend my life in circles.

You go to primary, you work, look forward to the holidays, the holidays come and you count down the days till you go back to school, you work and look forward to holidays, you go to secondary, you work even harder, you look forward to holidays, you count down the days till you go back to school, you work and work some more, you go to college or university, you work harder than you thought you could, you rush to hand in course work, you look forward to the holidays that never come, you end up doing work through holiday, your holidays end, you work even more, you get a job, you work, you look forward to holidays, you work, you work, you work…

Do you get my point? Life is just one big boring cycle. I believe that if you do a job you love then you don’t have to work a single day. However I have big dreams and REALLY want to become a big time actress. And I feel like if I don’t then I will have to get another job and although there are professions that I quite like such as photography they will still be stuck in they ordinary life cycle and I don’t want that! Please tell me that there is someone else out there that has the same thoughts as me and finds real life boring? I just want to escape it all.

That is why I love art, music, reading and of course acting. I prefer drawing in art and painting and stuff to actual creating. I’m not a big fan of sculptures and stuff. I love to doodle and just paint away. I have ideas that never come out quite right on paper and so they don’t actually exist anywhere but my head; and so I mostly get my inspiration from the internet, adapting things to my own style. It’s a good time passer and it’s a really fun thing to do. It distracts you from everything else because you have to focus and sometimes its easier to express your feelings into a painting. When listing to music I think of the music video, a dance routine or anything that could happen with this song, what the lyrics mean and what they mean to me. I cannot compose music but I do love listening to it and find it impossible to be on a journey without music, even walking to school I have to listen to my music. Reading is my life. I love books. You can be swallowed up by words and you are in another world. Each book is a different window just waiting to be explored by the reader to see what is on the other side of it. You become the character and it’s fantastic! The character’s problems become your problems. When a great book finishes it’s really depressing but you can just start another one living a whole new adventure. Acting is similar to reading, it just seems more real! I find that with acting you become the character that you are playing and their problems become your problems and you are oblivious to what is going on outside of your production. Instead of worrying about the arguments with your parents you might be worrying about an alien invasion or air raids. You get to experience a different life, living as someone else and so all your problem are momentarily forgotten. You can even live in a different time period. And you don’t have to worry about things not turning out alright for you because you know that it will all be over soon and you can star in a different production as a different person. In my opinion it’s fantastic!

When most teenage girls are at home arguing with their mother about the length of their skirt or wearing too much make up I am having my own arguments with my mother about court cases and breaking the law. It’s all a bit messed up to be honest. Writing everything down from start to finish (or there about) feels good. I have written down almost all of my story and I can just push it aside and never speak of it again, just directing people to this page if they ever ask me about it. There are some things I have not yet put in and some things I may never put in. You see, this story is from my point of view and mine only. Each member of my family, each judge and social worker could re-tell this story and yet it would be completely different, we have all experienced different things and we all keep secrets from each other. Some of us will look at the facts and others will look at the feelings. What scares me most is that there is no longer any truth. Of course there are the details and facts about what has happened but we all tell different stories and have all experienced different emotions and so we no longer have the truth- we may think we are telling the truth but we are in fact wrong because how can you tell the truth when you don’t know every side to the story? You cant and so maybe we will all tell each other our version and put it together and maybe we wont.

Until then I’ve just got to keep on living.

New Leaves!

My mum now had a job and was working in Canterbury hospital and still has that job even though she is a trained counsellor. C was doing well in his job, SR had got outstanding GCSE’s and got her first boyfriend, F was doing well in catering (but wasn’t doing so well in the other subjects) and SD had now finished school and moved to Ireland to live with all my other family. He is now going to Uni and is surrounded by the family who have always been around for him. He was and still is doing so well. SR is now in her first year of Sixth Form and is studying hard for her A Levels.

That just left me. I had just gone into year 9. Year 7 is the shy year where you try to be a ‘good student’ but you are also a bit shy- it’s also full of small people. Year 8 is the year you do no work- the best year in school and I loved it although the Year 8’s now are so annoying…especially the boys who think they are cool so they yell at the top of their voices and you just tell them to shut the hell up or you’ll punch them and then they shut up- well they do for me. Then Year 9 is the year that you realise that you really should do some work because you have your GCSE’s.

This academic year my sister came to my parents evening because she understands how the school works better than my mum. She also came to my options evening instead of my mum because she understands GCSE’s and my mum doesn’t because she did O Levels. I had always studied hard because I just like to work and, although I was teased for being a geek, and for actually wearing my uniform properly I just ignored the retards with nothing better to do with their life and got on with my work.

I was starting to freak out about getting good grades because SR had got such great grades that I felt- and still do- that I need to get good grades too and if I don’t get them as high as her I will look thick and my mum may be disappointed but if I got them the same as her or better she would be angry- and she has a fiery temper that matches her hair! I was also worried because I’ve never had just one English teacher and so far, this year I’ve had two and will be getting another after the holidays are up. I was struggling in English and even though I’m in top set in all my subjects I found it a struggle. My maths teacher is not supportive and I’ve never understood maths. I have a science teacher who is nice and helps me but he will be leaving for a few weeks too because his wife is having another baby and anyway I suck at science!

At first I thought I knew what I was going to take for GCSE: I was set on Art, Drama, History and a language. I love art and I REALLY want to be an actress. I’ve always been good at History since I started school and I think it helps that I’ve had the same lovely teacher since year 7.  My life in France gives me an advantage to getting a good GCSE grade but having German looks better and I can always follow up my French later. But then I found out that my current German teacher was the only one who taught GCSE and I was NOT spending two whole years being taught by her which would make that 3 years in a row so then I decided I would take French. I was all set for this until I found out that in Geography (funnily enough I’ve had the same great teacher for nearly two years now) I have a 22% chance of getting an A* that may not seem like a lot but it really is, my teacher showed me everyone else’s chance of getting an A or A* and there were no % higher than 7% so I thought what a stupid mistake it would be to give up on this subject. But then I had to drop another one. We were only given four options. Luckily SR came up with a solution.

I handed my form in the next day. I was taking Art, Drama, History and Geography and I was going to do French outside of school. This is going to be a lot of work but I am determined and will put in all my effort. I had R.E. as a reserve and ICT which I am also surprisingly good at (again I’ve had the same teacher for 3 years now).

So academically I was doing okay. I think I will be able to do well if I can concentrate.  And I was starting to find out who my true friends were. I don’t like hurting people’s feelings really but I have to write this down and if a certain person finds this and is hurt- I’m sorry but life goes on. I’ve never been keen on saying I have ‘best friends’, because others get hurt or they move and forget me. At one point last year I actually had a fairly big group of friends but then me and another girl wanted some time alone (we were kind of like the leaders of the group) and some people got a bit touchy over this. Anyway that girl moved schools (I’m still in contact with her and we actually I’ve like a road away from each other now) and in year nine I was left ‘in charge’ of the group. The group got a bit smaller as the people who argued too much or made other friends left and I was fine with this- it was easier not to leave people out. I’ve always liked the idea of being a leader and I think I’ve always been good at taking control (CODE WORD FOR BOSSY) and I liked having these people always ask me if they could do something.

I got close to a friend called Olivia O (I have two cousin Olivia’s and two friends in my group called Olivia [O and H]). Olivia and I are extremely alike. We both fan girl over Hunger games, Divergent, Sherlock, You Tubers, Benedict Cumberbatch, Jennifer Lawrence etc. and so I am also extremely close with Kate who is not in our group but loves the same stuff and I spend a lot of time with her. Above all we three are all mentally damaged. My mum once fell down some church steps dropping me which explains my issues, Kate’s mum once smashed something glass on her head (BY ACCIDENT!) which definitely explains why she has a few problems and Olivia…well…she’s always been a bit special 😉 😀

I am also close with a Czech girl in my group called Sofie, she is in my form and we get on really well. She is funny and musical but can also take things seriously. I have a friend called Courtney and she’s really funny- our friendship is mostly insulting each other for a joke. She too is in my form as well as Olivia H and Lucy. I cant help getting close to people and that is what’s happened with Olivia O and Kate. Olivia is closer than family to me and she is amazing. Kate is the only person in the world who can cheer me up when I’m extremely depressed, just by being in the room. She makes me cry with laughter all the time- no joke, I literally have waterfalls bursting out of my eyes (okay not quite but you get the idea).

I’ve always been attracted to abnormal life styles or people, even without knowing at the time. Almost all of my friends have or have had some sort of family issues. I know most of us are going through them right now. Although I do not want to say without their permission.

This may just sound like a load of cheese but we are there for each other when it matters and always know what the right thing to do is. I look out for my friends when it matter and they do the same for me.

So things were going well for me at school and I was having loads of fun with my friends, I was happy- to them. But that isn’t always how I feel on the inside. Some people still haven’t realised that even though it may not seem like anything was happening I was still hurting, and only a few people have noticed this.

The World of the Suffering Part 2

 

Time had passed and I was still aching for my father and for a family but things were getting better. My mum had met C and I really like him. He was supportive and friendly and was not there to replace my father or take parental control over me and that made me happy because I had told myself before that if anyone tried to do this I would hate them. Thankfully C did not.

My mum and I then found a house in a village called Adisham. We weren’t actually planning on renting it we were just curious. When we went to look around the village seemed lovely. There was a train station and a bus stop (There were only two buses a day) and there was a huge park and the people there seemed kind. The house we were looking around was an okay size. There was a beautifully big garden that would look great with some work. The kitchen was small and so was the bathroom but that didn’t matter. There was a sitting room and a front room and a door that hid the stairs (we liked this touch very much) up stairs there were 3 bedrooms; a small box room, a big room that had a window overlooking the front garden and then a long but narrow room with a big cupboard, a small fire place, and a lovely window that was small and fairly low but it had a wide window sill and over looked the fields. I fell in love with this bedroom and wished we could move into this house. The walls were a very light pastel blue and I loved it. Little did we know that this was just a mask.

Eventually we did actually move into this house and I would finally have my own bedroom! I was both overcome with glee and also a bit nervous to not have to share a room with my tidy, study freak sister. I, of course, got the room I wanted. I had (and still have) a narrow but long white bed with a wooden board that went around both ends (a day bed basically) but also down one side and it had 3 big draws and a bed you could pull out, it came with two memory foam mattresses (I think it was from Ikea). I both love and hate this bed! It’s broken because we moved so much but never mind. My mum got some blue curtains to match the wall with pink roses on them and then a cream lampshade also with pink roses. I did like this room but it was very posh.

My mum had the big room. C was not going to move in because my mum and him hadn’t got married and we didn’t plan for him to move in anyway he was still living about 3 hours away with his son, J. SR had the box room and painted it turquoise and had a cool chandelier with butterflies on circle disk things (she still has it). F had the front room downstairs which was good because we used the back door not the front and the front room was down a hallway so he was cut off from the rest of the house- cutting the pong from  his bedroom off. He made ‘friends’ with the village boys which soon turned out to be a big mistake. He has never admitted to it being a mistake but my mum, SR and I hated these rude, annoying little ratty children that were constantly bashing on our door asking if F was in. We just ignored them and they stopped knocking. There was no shop in this village and so we had to get the on ‘every hour’ train to Canterbury which was expensive. Also we soon found out that this house had many problems and because we didn’t own the house we couldn’t complain about the fact that they were planning to sell 3/4 of the garden so someone could build two houses.

SIDE NOTE: We left the two cats we had at the beginning of our lives in France, Dickens (I think that was his name- could have been another cat [we/parents had a lot of cats]) ran away and we never saw him again and Cymbeline died at the age of 19- she was blind and only had 3 working legs and there were two kittens constantly annoying her (She died on Christmas eve/morning- SD found her, we weren’t there at the time.We had got Molly before we moved to Adisham, she was three when we got her and she was a rescue cat so she was free- I donated my £2.50 pocket money! She was mine and SR’s cat and we loved her! Back to life:

We discovered all the problems with the house and there were now many things we hated. When the builders came to build on our garden we were furious. They were not a proper company- they were a family thing they had two children who, at one point, kept crossing onto our side. The builders were so close to my sisters window it was disturbing. They took ages to do anything and had SO many breaks. I’m not going to go on and on about how annoying they were, but I will tell you this; we had great fun making fun of them! Before they had actually finished building we gave up. We couldn’t put up with the village, the people, the school bus (don’t even get me started on those journeys).  So yet again me moved.

This is the house I am currently in and I love it, you get use to moving and loving new spaces but I mean it this time. We live in Canterbury and the house is big and, we still, have our own rooms. I love sharing a room with Molly although we argue a lot about who takes up most of the bed and who makes the most mess but other than that she’s great company.

Anyway before we moved and we were still in Adisham another big disrupt happened. This is one of the worst for me.

SD had come down for a holiday for his 17th birthday. We were going to go and see Harry Potter in the cinema and we were waiting for the train. SR and I were worried because he kept dropping hints about seeing our dad and going away or whatever. By this moment in life F was very easy to persuade into doing anything, he was stupid really (no offence to him or anything but he is just so thick), it was only on special occasions we got on- Like Christmas or mothers day. So he was easy to take control of. SR now hated my father and I was stuck in the middle because I still loved him but didn’t want to hurt anyone.

So we got to the train station and we were waiting and waiting and just as the train came, my father was walking across the bridge. We argued with SD and we actually held up the train because we told him to get off and he told us to get on. In the end he left on the train and we stayed on the platform (the police later went looking for him but he passed them on the train and they didn’t notice). So then everything got out of hand. Luckily no one came to get a train and so no one could actually hear what we were saying.

Pap’ asked us if we wanted to go on a picnic or something. F looked at me, and I told him no. He may be older but he’s like my younger brother- I got him out of fights and I was more mature than him. He stood by the railing with his head down and playing with the blades of grass coming through the fence, with his foot. SR was furious. She went right down the other end of the platform and called Mam’ who then had to call the police. I was left with him. My own father. The one I loved and longed to see and I couldn’t bare to hurt him. I may be young but I’m smart and I understand my situation even when people think I don’t- they know nothing about me. No matter how much I hated Yvonne and the court and police for what they did, I knew that there was a law in place and I knew that everyone was at risk of getting into trouble if I went off with him. I was dying to say “Yes! Lets go out for the day!” But I knew what could happen if I did. He could get arrested, he might take us back to France he could do anything.

I hated what I did next. I had to look him in the eyes and tell him that I loved him but I couldn’t go away with him. That he should never have come and that he had to go; he still looked hurt even though I explained it was for the best and that he was breaking the law. We were there for over an hour. I know this because the police came and they made everything so dramatic and then another train came- they only came once an hour. People were staring at us and I just glared back giving them the evils…as you do. In the end some police took my dad and were going to the police station but before they drove off he looked at me with a sadden smile and waved- it crushed my heart. I cried.

The other two police men took us home in their car, even though we lived, like, a minute away they said we may not go home or we may go after him so they had to make sure. All the while I was thinking: “Oh yeah sure we will go after him when he’s in the back of a police car! Oh you’re so clever!”. When we got home I went straight upstairs with SR. The police were talking to my mum. I didn’t mind being with SR she cheered me up and gave me Werthers Originals (I can’t spell). Sebastian eventually came home and told us that the police never actually caught up with him. They must be getting old! 🙂

All the while I was hurting but didn’t really like to let it show. I had begun to argue occasionally with my mum about this family rubbish.

The next year SD came with his girlfriend for Christmas. It was a lovely holiday, I loved his girlfriend, she was lovely and we shared a room that holiday. She was really pretty and gothic (I had begun to turn slightly gothic by this stage) and she was just so kind. She was from Madagascar but she lived in France and went to a boarding school near the one SD went to (they went home at weekends). We had a lovely time and C was there too. So it was even better.

However on Christmas eve- which was when SD and his girlfriend arrived- my dad turned up. He was dropping them off, fair enough, but he came into the house and then the arguing started. C didn’t want to get involved because it wasn’t his battle to fight, and he didn’t want to make me upset by shouting at him, and I thank him dearly for that. Mam’ got angry and Pap’ got angry and SR got angry. F, SD and his girlfriend just stayed out of the way in F’s room. I sat on the sofa and cried. Then SR said “See your making her upset!” and I hated to say this to her but I replied “No! He’s not- you and Mam’ are making me upset!” I was upset because they wouldn’t let him drop of the bags and say hello to his children. I never even got to hug him. In the end I went up stairs and found C in my mum’s bedroom. I didn’t know this until a few months ago but the only thing that made him stay was what I did next; I hugged him. He didn’t understand how anyone could cope with a man like my father, like many people have said but I hugged him and he stayed. In the end my mum rang the police again, they stayed till 3 in the morning and Pap’ spent Christmas eve in a cell. I got up in the morning and at 8 o’clock another police man came to the door. My mum was angry but put up with it. SD’s girlfriend came down in a dressing gown with me to get breakfast and she kissed the police man on the cheek! She was French and so she did this to everyone but the police man looked startled. It was really funny. Anyway after that we had a  great Christmas and we fell in love with SD’s girl friend.

Nothing that bad happened after that apart from the builders and stuff.

Mam’ and C got married on 25th May 2013 and it was lovely. It was sunny and everything went well. They went to York for a week and we went to stay in Maidstone with our Aunty and Uncle and our two year old cousin Olivia- who is so cute! She liked me a lot and I loved her a lot.

We moved house on the 1st of August that year and it was the day before Mam’ went to France for SD’s 18th Birthday. It was hard for me when SD found out she was married. He wasn’t invited because he didn’t want to go, but even when we thought of asking him again we decided against it in case he told our dad. So he was hurt by the fact that Mam’ had got married. He didn’t like C- he wouldn’t like anyone who was in his place. Mam’ got hurt because SD said he wasn’t going to talk to her until she got ‘un-married’, I was hurt because SD was angry and for a while I thought it was at me when we were emailing each other. But now we are happy again although his contact with Mam’ is still short and brief and not very loving.

Things were settling down but I couldn’t settle my self. Too much silence, is a sign that a storm is coming.

The World of the Suffering Part 1

When things began to settle down. I got more and more upset and I clung to every bit of happiness I felt just in case it was the last bit of happiness I ever felt.

Before the 10 minute contact with my dad that SR went over to France again. There was a man who falsely told us that she was allowed to stay there to see what life would be like for her in France. So one holiday after Christmas she stayed and we left. It was 8 months before I saw my sister again.

SR and I were extremely close and even though this was a good opportunity for her, again, I was heart broken because I thought I’d lost her for good. I frequently had night mares about house fires. They were never exactly the same but they always followed the same pattern; they were always at my house and I would only just get out of the house in time but I would wake up before I knew if everybody else was out. I now have a fear of fire and it is my greatest fear. This memory is a huge part of the reason why I have a fear of fire. At the time I didn’t understand why I was having that dream or what it meant. I swapped rooms with my mum because mine was too big without SR but I still had bad dreams and I would cry and cry and Mam’ would comfort me but I was too scared to close my eyes and too scared to be awake. I longed for the day because with sun light comes safety. One night my mum was having a snack at around 10. She had toast and she burnt it. I got up to go to the toilet and smelt this- obviously I freaked out and cried until my mum told me she was sorry that she scared me but there was no fire it was just burnt toast. She was very loving and comforting in these times.

I may not have understood the dreams then but I think I do now: In a house fire you panic because it’s so terrifying and the fire will destroy everything you have and love and nothing can replace those things and it destroys them forever, leaving a permanent scar of loss. This is exactly what happened to me; I had lost my sister so quickly and nothing could replace her and even though I got her back I was still hurting from those memories.

I am close with my sister and we are closer than most sisters because we know how important it is to treasure every moment you spend with each other. I’m close with SD because we don’t live together but we love each other a LOT. But I’m not as close with F because I’ve never really been away from him long enough for it to leave a huge impact on me (also he bullied me). You don’t realise what you have or how much something means to you until you lose it and then it’s hard to get back.

Breaking the Rules

As time went on, my mother spent a lot of time travelling up to the high court in London to attend to court cases that reviewed the situation and discuss ‘crimes’ that had been committed and to sort out what was going to happen. For a family without a car getting up to London was stressful and expensive and that meant we saw less of our mother and more of baby sitters (who were family friends) and to was frequently a waste of time because my dad wouldn’t turn up. To be fair he did live in France but unlike us he had transport and money. People say he only did this to be an inconvenience but to me that is an insignificant detail which I’m going to ignore.

Soon a law or court order- whatever you want to call it- was passed. My mum would have custody of SR, F and I and my dad would have custody of SD. SD could come over and see us when ever he wanted as long as both parents contributed to the travel. My dad was not allowed within a mile of our house or our schools, this soon turned into ‘you must not set the two front wheels of your car in England without permission or you’ll be arrested’ and at some point I was not allowed to leave the country (that rule is no longer there). Also I was to have no contact with my father until he age of 18. The only way we could communicate was to write letters which had to be read by either Mam’ or a social worker and must be addressed to my mother not me. This was an invasion of privacy and made me so angry- it makes me even angrier now. So I was not allowed to receive parcels unless they were checked, I could not speak over the phone or Skype him. I was heart broken.

SD had no rules really because he lived with the person I had been banned from seeing. I felt extremely angry and upset by this because I was the youngest and I figured I’d have to wait the longest. I loved my father no matter what he’d done and I wasn’t prepared to give up all contact so quickly. But I felt like screaming I was hurting so badly. I blame Yvonne because if she had written down exactly what I said I may still be having holidays with my dad but I’m not so I hate her.

Pap’ did write to me and I wrote to him. SR didn’t have time to write to him because she had too much homework now she was in secondary and it was pointless trying to get F to write a proper letter. At first all my letters were the same thing; Oh! I miss you, I love you, I wish I could see you etc. As warming as this might seem to some it’s really the sort of letter you would send to a person once because they were visiting another country for a couple of months or something. But I realised that these sorts of letters were not going to be enough for my father. And so I tried to make them more interesting- they were not but they were more detailed and anyway they helped with my writing skills.

My father broke the rules in place. He addressed his letters to me, he sent parcels and he did try to see us at school or at home but when people are told this they always think the worse and say he was breaking the rules and that’s that. But is it? Really? I mean if you think about it he could have prevented himself from getting into trouble for not following the stupid rules but by breaking them doesn’t that show how much he loved us and how willing he was to get us back?

Because of that annoying rule about not having contact with my father I could not go over to Ireland. This might not seem like a big deal but almost all of my family on my dad’s side and some of my mum’s live in Dublin or just around it and SD and my dad were always going over there so I was never allowed to go over because someone may tell him I’m going and it would be too easy for me to see him. This cut me off. And it had an affect on me BIG TIME. I felt so stuck on this stupid English island. I love Ireland and I love how my Irish family are all so connected. They live a few roads away from each other and always do things together. I wanted to join in but I couldn’t. This was another thing I blamed Yvonne for. To this day I still cannot go over to Ireland and I have even smaller chances because I’m older but I’m more determined. I haven’t met 3/4 of my cousins/aunties/uncles in Ireland and the last time I did I was so young I don’t even remember! I’m not putting up with this!!!

F is just waiting his years out, he only has 3 left now. He never really seemed that bothered. Maybe he isn’t, maybe he just didn’t want to say and maybe he never will. He has always been so anti-social, but then again he lives in a house with three girls and a female cat! My sister does not wish to see my father for reasons I do not wish to explain because it would be unfair on her and it’s only for her to speak about. But even though I except her choice and reasons it killed me to know that I have to wait longer than both of my siblings and neither of them are even particularly bothered! I love my father so much but I can’t see him. Obviously that was very fair wasn’t it…YVONNE!?! -note the sarcasm.

By the time I was in year 5 I was 9 and suddenly the sun shone brightly again. I had been given the opportunity to see my dad at a contact centre in Hern Bay. I was thrilled. At the time both SR and F were pleased-ish too. We were all a little nervous but I was happy. We had to sit in a big room and Yvonne and Susie were observing and the other side of the room. I was so excited and I loved seeing SD and Pap’ again. I was so happy. This contact was to last two hours and we were going to have them once a month; 24 hours a year with my father is better than nothing. That shows how desperate I was. I was saying that 1/365 days was enough to survive. However 10 minutes into the contact my dad gave us presents. He gave SR her nail varnish set back and a green and cream Irish scarf, he gave F a set of ManU pens and something else that I cant remember and he gave me a matching scarf to my sister but mine was purple (NOTE: Purple and black are my favourite colours and green is my sisters), and a little Christmas tree decoration; it was a little Irish dancer with ginger bunches and a black dress. I loved her and I still hanger her up every Christmas.

But apparently this was against the rules. Of course it was- it’s obviously a crime to show your children you love them by buying them thoughtful gifts, how horrid is that? (Stupid court thinking they know everything) So it was 10 minutes out of 2 hours I spent with him and I wasn’t going to be allowed contact with him again. And guess whose fault it was? Yvonne’s, obviously. So the police were called in and I was taken into another room with SR and F. That was the first time I had seen SR show any sign of affection towards F. She hugged him and comforted him. And I sat on her lap. Here is a conversation that actually happened give or take a few words:

“WHY ARE YOU SO HORRIBLE? WHY ARE YOU SO CRUEL?”

“It’s against the rules Ursula! He is not allowed to give you presents.”

“OH I’M SORRY! WHAT EXACTLY IS DANGEROUS ABOUT GIVING YOUR CHILD A GIFT? AM I GOING TO CUT MY FINGER ON THE DECORATION? IS THE NAIL VARNISH FULL OF DRUGS?”

“Ursula! There are rules!”

(My sister): “You get paid for making people’s lives worse”

“Right, I’m not having that!” Walks out slamming the door

(me again): “YOU CANT EVEN DO YOUR JOB PROPERLY YOU STUPID COW!”

(Some guy in the corner named Chris): Look it’s all right, I know how you feel”

“NO YOU DONT KNOW HOW I FEEL! SHUT UP!!!”

Just so you know social workers are trained to deal carefully and calmly when a child shouts at them or insults them or whatever and that is precisely what Yvonne sucked at. She couldn’t stand being insulted. So I am right- she is useless at her job and this whole deal is the main reason why I hate her with every bone in my body and every bone in everybody else’ body too! Some people think I’m sick in the head or evil when they hear the amount of hatred I have for that woman or the ways I would like to make her suffer. But I promise you I am not evil or sick in the head and I do have my reasons. Also Yvonne is the only living thing in the universe I wish bad things to happen to.

Since that dreadful day I have had no more legal contact with my father. Apart from the on going letters we were still sending each other.

I was fed up and frustrated and ready to grab any chances of revenge.

The Social Retards

Who did they think they were kidding? Who did they think they were? Why on earth do these people think they can be liked by their ‘clients’ (I guess) because in my opinion no one can like these people. I have had a bad experience with social workers (If you hadn’t noticed) and I hate them. I had a social worker called Yvonne- who still is, to this day, my worst enemy. And then there was this other woman, Susie or something like that.

First things first: I’m not trying to offend anyone who is related or liked social workers, I am simply expressing my own thoughts and opinions and experiences with them. Both of these people reeked of smoke. And Susie wore big boots with huge platforms. They were like Bratz shoes, literally I’m not joking there were exactly the same. On anyone else they would have looked okay, they might have even looked cool! But they didn’t do this woman any justice. She looked like an old woman (she wasn’t that old but the smoking made her look older) who was a ‘wanna be young’ type of person and she probably was! To be honest the pair of them looked hilarious!

I never liked Susie and I wont ever forgive her for anything, but she was just about bearable. Yvonne on the other hand was a complete and utter night mare! She still is although I don’t see her much any more. There are no amount of words, or any words that exist, to explain how much I despise this evil specimen. She is just so disgusting it’s unbelievable. She is useless at her job and I’m being serious. People always say “Oh, that’s a normal reaction to have, a lot of people think that about their social workers” I DON’T CARE WHAT OTHER PEOPLE SAY! They may have purely been looking for someone to blame or to hate but I WASN’T! No matter how hard I try to tell people this they still say the same thing. When I tell them that I blame her they say that’s natural. Well here is a message for anyone who has ever said something like that to me: SHUT THE HELL UP! I DO NOT VALUE YOUR OPINION!!!!Thank you.

Unfortunately I had to talk to Yvonne quite regularly and the conversations went something a little like this:

“So Ursula, what do you want to happen? What are your feelings and opinions about the situation.”

“Like I’ve said before (100,000 times before to be precise) I want to see my dad and my brother and be able to have holidays with them like we use to and I want every body to get on.”

“So, you don’t want to see your dad and you hate your whole family is that what your saying?”

“No you stupid fat idiot LISTEN TO ME!”

Those last two lines were never actually said quite like that. Basically she would ask me the exact same question over and over and over again every time I saw her and I said the same thing each time and she would write down what I was saying but she would twist my words and I would get frustrated. But I never insulted her which was a shame (I wish I’d slapped her or something), I never insulted her or called her anything remotely offensive because I was too young and wouldn’t dream of being rude in case my mum heard and anyway I was too shy. However next time I do see her I will definitely go out of my way to insult her badly even if there is not real reason to, because she deserves it. And if my mum tells me off; who cares? The worst she can do is send me to my room or something. She never liked her either, anyway, so it makes no difference.

I don’t like social workers and they don’t like me.

Just a small note: I do not mean to offend anyone with my language and I’m sorry if you are.

Truth+Lies=MASS CONFUSION!

Life was going to get a whole lot worse for me and everyone else in my family. This was the beginning of it all!

The memory is a bit blurry but I will do my best to get the details as close as I can to the ‘truth’. So F and SR must have come home eventually. And we still lived in our new home, also in Sturry and everything was going okay-ish and then we moved shortly after that because the land lord’s wife wanted to sell the house and we couldn’t afford to buy it. Luckily, my sister’s friend was moving out of her house and said we could rent it from them, so that’s what we did. We moved to Rough Common and it was a little small but we lived with it. We were told that we could live there for as long as we liked because they weren’t planning to do anything with the house. It was nice there. I have some nice memories from that house. We lived near Orlando Bloom’s mum!!! We walked to school and my sister and I shared a room with really cool raised beds and we were happy.

HOWEVER!!! We had only been there 5 months when my sister’s friends mum decided she wanted the house back. I think she wanted to sell it but I’m not sure. 5 MONTHS! That’s all we had been there for! So again we went looking for another house to rent. And again we went back to Sturry. This was our 5th house (and 6th home if you include the camper) and this was a nice house. I shared a big room with my sister we had a really lovely kitchen once my mum had done it up, and we had a nice sitting room and it was mainly a quiet area. F could play with our neighbour and S had just started secondary school and could walk to the bus stop with friends. I got a taxi to school and so we were happy. We had noisy neighbours but that didn’t really matter in the end.

This is when the Truth and the Lies came out. SD was plonked on our door step. Our dad had been arrested. He was arrested because they had found out about the forged court order saying we were allowed to stay in France. He got a sentence of 4 months but was only in for 2, although he was in on his birthday but they never gave him the crap photo frame I had sent him…probably for the best. SD really didn’t like being in England. At the time we didn’t know how long he would be with us. Of course we were happy to have him with us but he didn’t want to be in England. He missed the freedom of running around in the fields and the garden, there were no trees to climb, it was too noisy, he missed his friends, and so on. Of course this was a normal reaction; he was an autistic boy who had suddenly be plunged into a world of chaos and upset. He was unsettled and it wasn’t good for him. Mam’ wasn’t sure how long he would have to stay and so she prepared as if he was staying a very long time and talked about going to school with Sorcha but he wouldn’t go and luckily in the end he didn’t have to.

I think it was around about this time when the social got involved and the laws put in place. After being let out of prison my dad came to the door. At the time there was only SD, SR and me at home. Mam’ and F were out with my mum’s friend. We didn’t recognise him at first because he hadn’t been allowed shave and so to me he looked very peculiar. When Mam’, F and the friend came home they threatened to call the police. But I cried and complained and threw a tantrum. I clung off W’s phone and nearly snapped the screen off. Oops! It was rubbish phone any way. So in the end Mam and F (who was unsettled) went out in a huff and spent the night at W’s, but SD, SR, Pap’ and I had a great time laughing, dancing, drawing and playing. I wasn’t going to let anyone ruin my fun. That’s all I thought it was at the time but I had begun to understand that there wasn’t something quite right with my situation.

Eventually SD and my father went back off to France. We were trying to get on with life. It was difficult to try to understand what was going on but eventually I had a simple idea in my head.

But my life is nothing simple.

The Mess Up

So here’s the thing, we (the children) were too young to really understand what was going on in life, as I have mentioned before. So we thought that we were just going on another holiday, we were but it turned into more than just a holiday. SD was already setting up a proper life as he had been doing for the past couple of months/years. He was building it well and he was making new friends. Everything was supposed to be great.

So we were there just having a Christmas holiday (I remember having an early Christmas with my mum at some stage), my mum was not coming with us on this holiday but we were too excited to worry about that. So we got to France as usual and everything was normal, I guess. We probably had fun (I don’t really remember much about that time), only that it was towards the end that things didn’t go to plan.

It was the day our mum was expecting us to be back…only we weren’t. Our father refused to hand us over- we didn’t know this because we didn’t know we were suppose to be leaving. We hadn’t left the house or packed or anything. So my mum was left panicking at the airport waiting for her children that were not even on a flight.

When she found out what had happened, you can probably imagine that she was extremely scared, upset, angry and all the other emotions a mother feels when 3 of her children have been ‘taken’. She rang the police because it was the only thing she could do. It was recorded that my father had abducted us (which is funny to say because when I tell people “Yeah…I’ve been abducted” their reaction is so funny). When I think about it now it still makes me angry. I don’t blame my mother for what she did and I don’t blame my father either. I think there was an element of love for their children in both their actions, somewhere. But I still think its wrong how they classed it as abduction; yes he had not given us back when we were supposed to be back and yes we were in another country but he is still our dad. Whenever I say this people always say something like “Oh, I don’t think you really understand”. Well let me tell you this: I DO understand, it’s you who doesn’t! Where you there? No. Is he your father? No. Has this happened to you? Really? Don’t talk crap. What I say is a matter of my own OPINION! Okay? And anyway it’s my life not yours so what would you know? It’s not just about the facts it’s about the feelings as well so who cares what you have written down on a stupid piece of paper?!?

So by this time my dad had foraged a court order saying that we were allowed to stay in France. This caused confusion and upset but it was not something that I thought about at the time. To me it was just “Oh! We are living in France now without Mummy.” and nothing else. I must have been about 6/7 years old about this time. So I had only been at an English school for a year and one term.

My dad had set us up at a school in France- the same one SD was going to and the one the others had gone to when I was in the ‘play school’. I was only in the first year of that school and Aurora was still there and most of the time I enjoyed it there.

It was a very small school. F was kept behind a year and so he was in my class. There were two class rooms that had desks on one side a big gap and then desks on the other side to split two year groups. There was one teachers desk and two black boards and we had the photocopier then there was another classroom with the same layout however there may have been three classes squashed in there- like I said it was tiny! (Did I actually say that? I can’t remember). Then we had a small playground, a sheltered area with a few benches and one girls toilet, one boys toilet and one staff toilet at one end of the play ground. We had a long but small canteen where the school dinners were amazing! It wasn’t a very attractive school and it was incredibly small but I loved it.

So we had our life in France. And this is when I improved my French again (I still forgot a lot when I came back to England for the second time). I still talked to Callum and my other friends because I wrote to them, and we rang Mam’ (NOTE: Because of the Irish in us we called our mum Mam’ or Mammy and because of us living in France we called our dad Pap’ [short for Papa- I made the abbreviation up, it’s not actually used in France). I enjoyed my self if I’m honest. I didn’t know what to think because I was confused so I decided on the happy side and that maybe Mam wanted us to live in France after all, maybe she would come and live here again too! Obviously I was wrong. To dream of such stupidity was (and still is) a mistake I always make- I get my hopes up too much or I think of things that could happen and then am disappointed when I realise its all just a spoof. Some things I can make happen my self if I was determined enough but at the time I wasn’t old enough and I didn’t know what was happening.

So eventually we packed our bags and we headed off to La Rochelle. I’m not sure why we did this. Maybe my dad made an agreement with my mum or he had been told he must hand us over (the latter is more likely). Anyway we spent the day on La Rochelle beach waiting  for out mum to come in on the next flight at the airport close by. I think it was in the evening when she arrived.

So everyone was supposed to be set to go. My mum had her return ticket and 3 child singles. However only one of them was used…by me. I was the only one who went back with my mum that day because my father had managed yet again to convince my siblings to stay.

My mum was obviously still deeply upset by this but she was glad to have her youngest back. By this time we were living in another house in Sturry. We had moved there just before we went to France, because we had been robbed in our last just before Easter. We loved it in our new house and would probably still be there if things hadn’t changed (we were still renting and the land lord’s wife wanted to sell the house so we had to move again some time later). At this house, SR had the box room and F had his own room so my mum and I shared (I was so young it didn’t really matter) It was a big room and I loved it. I was tucked up in my bed my mother settling me down. I was happy because I was home and I had my mum back. She had hung up a monkey decoration she bought before we went away and it was above my bed- it stayed there till we moved but I still have it now and I love it.

If I’m honest I was rather pleased being on my own. Because I didn’t know why SR and F were still in France I was happy to make the most of my time with my mum. I went back to school for the last 3 days of year 2. Pretty pointless, I know, but I made friends with a girl called Sophie and I played with Callum (Gretel had moved by this time). A lot can happen in 3 days! Anyway. The summer holidays had arrived and I had 6 whole weeks by my self with my mum. She took me out a lot and we spent so much time together, I loved it a lot. We were very close then and it got to the point that I was almost hoping that the others would stay in France because I got more attention on my own!!!(Please don’t judge me, too harshly! I was young!)

So at that time I thought life was good. But this is me we are talking about! Come on, don’t fall for that happy ever after rubbish! Of course nothing good ever lasts long in my life. It was soon turned upside down when the truth came out.

Starting Over

I don’t really remember feeling particularly sad. Maybe I was I just can’t remember or maybe I was just too young to understand what the hell was going on. But life goes on. Bad things happen and you just have to get over them. So many people’s parents split up these days, so what was so tragic about my story? Well at the time nothing was particularly that bad I was just known as ‘That Kid From France’.

Anyway I loved my primary. I’ve always been that freak who actually loves school. I made some great friends. I had several best friends through out my life in primary because when ever we got a new child join, the teacher always seemed to think that I could be their friend. I had a best friend called Gretel who left in year two and went to London, we are still great fiends. Then I had a best friend named Callum who I still see around today but he seems worried whenever he sees me and doesn’t like to talk (I don’t know why), then there is Julia. Julia joined in year 3 and she was from Poland. She didn’t speak much English and we looked strangely alike (we had similar hair), my sister actually once actually mistook Julia for me in the playground one lunch! I was proud to be Julia’s first English friend and I loved spending time with her. She was sporty and always fun to be with. I went round her house every Friday in year 5/6 because we joined a choir for our local church (also known as St. Thomas’). I still talk to her now but we go to different schools. We are still close, I like to think. I have a habit of making friends with people who have lost someone in their lives or have a few family issues, my closet friends have always had something along these lines, even today (apart from one friend who doesn’t have anything wrong with her family which is good 🙂 ).

I was glad, I guess, to be able to get on with life. I would go and visit my dad in the holidays and it was great. Sometimes my mum came and sometimes she didn’t. Either way we all had fun being together. It was great because we could play with SD again and I could do things with my dad. We had a few of our own private games we liked to play. We would have water fights in the summer and sit by the fire in the winter, looking at the shapes in the flames whilst drinking home-made hot chocolates. We went out dancing every week too which was so much fun. I loved dancing with my dad and hope to again some day.

I loved the way my parents made Christmas so real. We all believed in Father Christmas because our parents made us believe. One of the best Christmas’ was one where we came out of our rooms and we looked at the things in our stockings and waited for our parents to get up. We then let them have breakfast and then opened our presents that were underneath the most amazingly decorated tree ever, which we all helped to cover in lights and decorations. We’ve always had a tradition in our family where each year someone different will start either age, a die (remember that one is a die and two is a dice!), or the first person a cat walked to. Then that person would pick a random present from under the tree. For example it would say TO: SD, FROM: F and then we would watch them open their present and then SD would pick the next present and it would say something like TO: Ursula, FROM: SR and then they would all watch me open my present and then I would pick the next one and so on. This was good because we all got to see what everyone got and it made it more exciting and it took about 3 hours, so it was even more fun! Then after we would play with some things and put others away. Out dad made up a MEGA COOL winter wander land in a spare room and it was beautiful.
One of the way our parents made us believe in the magic of Christmas was when we got up to look at our stockings we found that our parents only had some lumps of coal and one Toblerone. We were confused and asked why and they said “We saw Father Christmas and his sleigh and if you see him you don’t get presents” we found this fascinating but it was also a good way to keep us in our beds all night long as we were terrified we wouldn’t get presents. As they had also made clear, it was important to fall asleep because if you heard him Santa wouldn’t come to you. Very clever! We would have a huge dinner late in the evening (you always eat very late in France even when it’s not Christmas) and we would have a great meal and then have Christmas crackers crossing our arms before we pulled them (another tradition).

Most of our holidays were as fun as this and they were great. However I began to get confused because I was so young and didn’t understand the real reason my parents had split up. When I asked my dad if he still loved my mum he said yes and when I asked my mum the same thing about my dad she said yes. I was confused but all is clear now. Despite me confusion I got on with having a great fun and good holidays.

But of course that all changed.