Beemato

Imogen:               I’m cooking a bermato

Me:                        A what?

Imogen:               Bermato.

Me:                        … do you mean a ‘tomato’?

Imogen:               Beemato

Me:                        No, it’s ‘tomato’.

Imogen:               Beemato.

Me:                        To-mato

Imogen:               Bee-mato

Me:                        To-mato

Imogen:               Beemato

Me:                        ‘To’, say ‘to’.

Imogen:               Beemato.

Me:                        No, say ‘to’.

Imogen:               Beemato.

Me:                        No. Just say ‘to’.

Imogen:               ‘Ber’

Me:                        No, ‘to’.

Imogen:               To

Me:                        Mato

Imogen:               …

Me:                        To--mato

Imogen:               To-beemato

Me:                        Tomato

Imogen:               To-beemato

Me:                        No, just tomato, there’s no ‘bee’ in it.

Imogen:               Beemato

Me:                        To

Imogen:               Bee

Me:                        No, it’s ‘to’. It’s doesn’t even sound like- just say ‘to’

Imogen:               To

Me:                        Mato

Imogen:               I can’t say it.

Me:                        What do you mean? Just say ‘mato’.

Imogen:               Beemato

Me:                        …

Imogen:               …

Me:                        Tomato

Imogen:               Beemato

Me:                        …

Imogen:               Beemato

Me:                        …

Imogen:               Bee-

Me:                        To, just say ‘to’

Imogen:               t-

Me:                        Mato

Imogen:               …

Me:                        just say tomato…

Bemato…

Citroen AX

I liked the Citroen AX as a car and in the early 90s my sister got one. My car was a K series Rover. I really liked that car. My sister's car wasn't the newest but mine was and so, when I was posted to Hong Kong I decided I'd prefer her to drive around in my car than hers, so with the help of my mum & dad paying off the remainder of the loan on it, I gave it to my sister. It was 3 years old. My sister gave my mum & dad £800 for it. It was worth about £3-4,000.

When I came back 4 years later with very little money and needing a car for work, I asked for the car back and I expected her to give it to me for free. After all, she had only paid £800 for it and £800 depreciation on a 3 year old car after four years is nothing. Her husband said they could get £2,500 for it when they trade it in and so they wouldn't give it to me. Basically, our relationship wasn't worth £2,500.

I went out and bought the best car I could get for £1,000. The brakes failed within the first week. My mum & dad again came to the rescue and helped me buy a newer car. 2 years later I traded the car in for what I thought was a better car. A week after that I found out I had been posted to Germany. In Germany you can buy a brand new car tax free for the same money I had bought the car I had just bought. The car i had just bought, although a great car in itself - a 3 year old Audi A4 - had 70,000 miles on it.  Immediately the catalytic converter failed. It cost me £300 to replace it.

I got posted to Germany with a second hand car that I couldn't trade in cost effectively and I had lost my sister.

When I came back I got divorced and lost my kids.

When my dad died 3 years later, although we were united in grief, the relationship with my sister never felt strong.

My sister died last December. I hadn't had a healthy relationship with her for 19 years at that point and hadn't seen her for over 7 years by then. I've just watched a film where an adult family come together for a funeral, and even though their relationships with each other weren't perfect, they had an easiness with each other. They just sat next to each other and talked about things and life and how things were going. It was taken for granted that the peculiarities of each other were accepted and dealt with. No one accepts or deals with my peculiarities in a way that doesn't end conversations with me. What I mean is, when people realise I suffer from what has happened to me in my life, the conversation becomes strained. Their is discomfort in the air.

I just want my family back.

No Title

It was coming up to Easter 2006 and she told me she wanted me to have my children a week earlier, which would mean I wouldn't be able to see my kids for the three weeks after I'd had them. I told them I didn't want that. I was to have my kids over my youngest son's 5th birthday, I had a cake and we were going to have a party at my house. I was going to pick them up on the Friday.

I phoned my kids on the Wednesday but their mum didn't pick up her phone. I phoned her again. And again. And again. And again. Over the course of the next two days I phoned her probably somewhere over 200 times. I continued to call over the weekend until I finally found out on the following Monday that she had taken them on holiday. I missed my week with my kids and my youngest son's birthday.

We had a court hearing already scheduled for the Tuesday so she would no longer be able to mess me around with regards to contact. When we arrived in court she told the court lies about me and I was told I wouldn't be able to see my kids for at least 3 months until the court's family's office could interview me.

3 years later, because of the court's processing system, I lost contact with my kids. It's now been over 10 years since I've seen my kids.