128: For the record - football and character

At some point in the future, when I am gone, perhaps my son will read this blog. And while I tell him all the time that he is my hero, my life, my magic and reason for living, I want to record something particular.

Today he was not feeling particularly well but, nevertheless, wanted to play and contribute to his football team. It was cold and rainy but I watched him and he played a manful game - full of effort and character. As did his team mates.

I was so impressed and told him so.

I had a pop out in the evening for a match of my own - currently he and I are without his mother who is away this month. When I came back, he was fast asleep in the TV room.

Pushed him into his own bed at 7:30 and he was out like a light.

But, during the day, he fought and he showed character and gave energy where there really wasn't much in the tank.

Impressive.

127: Daily Vicissitudes

Am having to work from home today and all I can hear is that incessant voice upstairs nagging away at our son to tidy his room.

It needs to be done but the management style is just so haranguing that his attitude is obviously resentful. He and I have cleared up before and it has been far less taxing.

This is holiday week for our son. As she will ‘looking after’ him in the week and he may have friends over or whatever, she will be busier than usual. So, I cooked on Sunday to last us for the following week. 

I come home from work on Wednesday – she has been out and about with our son and another family, eaten out for lunch on Tuesday and Wednesday, and yet the kitchen is a mess, the sink is full of breakfast stuff and then I am asked to do his cooking for the evening and our warming up. 

Today (Friday) I am at home as I had a hospital appointment, I come back and am told to do the lunch. I could say ‘no’ but just this taken-for-granted grates.

And when it comes to tidiness, as ever, clothes are all over the rooms and credit cards receipts – dating from six months ago – are strewn all over the dining table being ‘checked’, and they have been spread across for a week and a half now. What sort of role modelling behaviour is that? Does she not even notice the double standards?

Before leaving for the hospital I received these long instructions on where to park. I needed to buy some shoes and received sarcastic comments on where to buy – which ones were for old people and which ones young. Can she not just look after herself ... that would be a huge step forward.

Please, find someone else and leave us …

126: Ok but constant reminders

No big news to report.

Good summer with two holidays and peaceful at home.

During the week I am sleeping in another room in order to get a good night’s sleep – where there had been objection before from her, there now seems acceptance.

But a few small incidents which provide insight into character:

‘the credit card bill is small this month – just £1700.’ ‘Just?!!’, I exclaim. ‘Well, there are some exceptionals and so in reality about a 1000.’ Still no idea of what money really is!!

I brought our son home from his karate class and immediately she hauled him up on how he had been late in the morning, yada yada yada – and in that loud strident voice of her’s. He just nodded, raised his eyebrows at me and went off. The other day he asked her why she is always complaining? If not careful, that is the memory he will retain of his mother – always complaining.

This from the woman who does not go out to work, I collected him to save her time and cooking was not done until 8 and kitchen was a mess – which meant clearing up (that I was not allowed to do because she does believe that she needs to do this though I offer all the time) till 9:30 pm.

Monday evenings we try and watch a show together – starting at 9. She came up at 9:30, stared at her phone all the way through. How is all of that role modelling good behaviour?

Another day she said that it was my family that was always strident about a private school education. This from the woman who was determined that our son should change school and that, if he didn’t, how would I like it if he were surrounded by South Asians as they flooded the school he remains in.

And the comments continue about why I did not share a house when starting off my working life, why I stayed at home through university, why I have never worn jeans – just this constant drip, drip, drip of patronising advice.

I am just so tired of that strident voice and the hypocritical instructions.

We went to visit some friends last week. They are similar to us in terms of race, the wife was a university friend of mine and the husband and I both struggle. He and I had a good chat some years ago and had another one last week. He is seriously thinking about whether he can cope with her in the long term and they have a feisty relationship overall. But at least she works and he is away half the year for his work – so he ‘owes’ her a lot as she has brought up their son pretty much on her own. But her son is also considerably closer to him as she is also always nagging away.

We came to the conclusion that both our wives simply do not know how to be happy. Continuously, it is a hankering after something else instead of appreciating what we have. There was this article in the newspaper - https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2018/oct/09/age-envy-be-happy-everyone-else-perfect-social-media - about envy arising from other people’s seemingly perfect lives. My wife certainly browses Facebook a lot but hardly ever posts – that cannot be healthy.

125: Narratives and change

I have left my permanent role after 11 years with the same organisation, taken redundancy and started up as consultant. I was speaking to my mum on the phone.

'Well, you are very brave. But so long as you get the necessary income, I suppose. You won't be MD here anyway.'

The 'here' was to do with being an Asian in an European country - and I don't buy that personally; she doesn't either I am sure.

The interesting point about that comment to me was about not being an MD!! Here is a woman who has been sacrificed on the altar of her husband's career, who has spoken and written at length about having had to give up her dreams for the sake of others - and yet, she cannot get away from the narrative of being an MD.

I have been lucky enough to support my family in the home while providing material benefits - but I have not pushed myself at work. There I have earnt enough (between £85k and £105k since 2007) but have not had to commit the time and effort that could easily have been the case. I believe - and it may be rationalisation of sorts - that I have been given the opportunity to be balanced - notwithstanding the marriage issues that have nevertheless arisen.

If I may be bold - and it is presumptuous right now - I have been fortunate enough to challenge the narrative of 'success' being completely associated with position and have been someone who, I believe, has provided and supported. I do not regard that as a sacrifice in any way - it has been of value to me that I have been a close father and I know that I have been a supportive husband.

But these 'narratives' abound and I have to learn in several arenas - not just the professional and parental. Marriage and having the courage to break rather than stay and be miserable is the next barrier - may God give me strength and the luck.

I have written before about the 'one that got away' and even in 2014 I appear to write about wanting 'an other' with whom to share.

I have moved on now, 4 years later.

If truth be told, in my adult life I suppose I have met 3 women in my life with whom I have felt a sort of spontaneous connection - I did with my wife as well (penultimate paragraph) but that was swiftly thrown back in my face!!

The one who is the subject of 'the one that got away', one I worked with and was accused of having an affair with by my wife and a third whom I have known since the 90s but lives in another country. Each has provided me with confidence and all three are dreamy - far too good for me. With none have I said or done anything untoward.

Now, when I speak about being a 'silver splitter', it is no longer that I somehow dream of being with one of them or, indeed, anyone else. I truly believe I am better off alone. The very thought of having to worry about someone else on a daily basis scares the bollocks off me. Alone - that's me - but hopefully not lonely.

124: Nasty I know but ...

Life is still fine - we seem to be gettng along. But then, we have now spent close to £50,000 on the house now and two holidays in the summer!!

Nasty in tone that last sentence, I know, but I will let myself go this once.

She was doing a voluntary role - reading at a school. Unpaid of course and about 2 hours a week.

As usual, she was lecturing them about this and that and after one - no doubt - hectoring email, the school came back and said that 'from her tone' it was clear that 'she no longer wanted to work' there - it thanked her and wished her well for the future!

Being let go from a voluntary role is quite a feat.

A number of her friends from a decade or more ago were passing through London - we could see on Facebook. She even got in touch with them. They went out for dinner about half an hour from us - again Facebook. She somehow missed out on being invited.

123: My Father 2 ... and Lessons

So, what lessons can be learned.

The good bits:

Objectively, I can say that I am closer to my son than he was with me. I asked my elder brother (by 7 years) whether he had been different with him, when he was younger – more cheerful, closer? I did not get a response.

In absolute terms I am probably seen as a worrier but in relative terms, I worry less I am sure.

I am less judgemental of people.

Have more personal friends.

Probably more content.

The bad bits:

No way near as successful as a professional.

Have not helped people anywhere near as much.

Not as clever or hard working.

And  then …

Comes my parents’ relationship. It can’t always have been bad and sometimes, as a youngster, if I came into their room unexpectedly, I can remember them springing away from a hug.

But the overwhelming memory is of my mother being hugely resentful – of marrying into a big joint family, of not having been able to work. This resentment came out in mocking his family and continuously harping on about what she might have been. And lots of ill temper almost all the time and a huge need for control.

He kept his head down for a peaceful life but am pretty confident that at critical junctures he ruled out options – for example, her not working – and so the hurt was both ways for sure.

I do not want to end up there. I do not want years of misery because it is easier to stay than to split. Following his death, my mother is now enjoying the freedom of a lessening of responsibility. If I live as long as 81, I do not want to wait.

I have a duty to my son and life is peaceful anyway. But if there is a lesson, in my parents’ marriage, and those of others, it is surely that the break is better. Perhaps not for all concerned but certainly for the one wanting to get away. I do not want to create an ideological position and it is not something I think about every moment and every day – but the time will come?

122: My Father 1

It is 27^th June today. My father’s birthday. He would have been 92. He died last December.

Sitting at my desk at work, a bit bored and needing distraction, I open up Facebook. My brother has a post there marking the day – I hadn’t remebered. Suddenly feel the need to write.

My father was a great man in so many senses. From looking after his extended family, to being the best engineer I ever knew and a very successful one, his capacity for hard work and duty to his family, loyalty to his bosses. He achieved much and left a lot of good memories for everyone.

Towards the end of his life, he suffered from dementia and it would be true to say that I was not very nice to him over perhaps the last two years before he died. I could argue that I was protecting the people around him – specifically my mum I suppose – as he turned into someone dragging everyone down with him. Equally, it could be that I seized the advantage of him not being very well to let my frustrations out, to get angry at him because I could, while convincing myself that the only way to deal with a ‘bully’ is by fighting back. Or that I do not have the patience to deal with uncomfortable situations. That conflict will always be with me, ever unresolved as I cannot be judge and jury to myself.

Were we close? Not particularly. He was much older (42 when I was born), somewhat distant, no interests in common. I went into heavy industry and engineering because of him as I admired that life but we hardly ever spoke about work. There were no hugs but he would be affectionate if I lay down on the sofa with my head on his lap.

I think there was a mutual respect. He recognised that I very rarely ‘asked’ for anything from him or my parents as a whole. One incident I remember, I schlepped across London with golf clubs as my mum said she needed their car and I could not borrow it – mine was with my wife. He got quite upset apparently because I never asked for anything but had done so once and been denied! (This is contrast to my brother and sister-in-law who had a much closer relationship with far greater give and take.)

Then, one year (2015 I think) he told me that I was the only one he could confide in – that he was being treated ‘like a servant’ in his own home. My mother was and is not an easy woman and their's was a harsh relationship from the outside – with mutual anger and recriminations that came out more and more over the years. I told him that I was in the same boat and that it was our lot in life to put one step in front of the other and carry on!!

But he never spoke to me about my admission at all. And while it may be unfair to say so given all that he did for others, it prompts me to think that there was a selfishness there – an ‘all about me.’ Behind a modest exterior was someone who was proud of what he had achieved – absolutely nothing wrong with that. Or was there? This was not a 'comfortable' pride - a man content. There always appeared to be a role to be played, it felt like. Being the most hospitable, kind, generous – and he was all of those things. And he was also successful and gave my brother and me fantastic starts in life. But he never appeared to be able to enjoy what he had done. It was always duty, the continuous feeling perhaps that he was being judged, there were always fears and negativity and hypochondria … and, in a sense, perhaps it all built up inside him to the extent that he was always the victim. There was this complete focus on work and confidence which did not extend to much of the rest of his life. Totally comfortable with going to Libya via Malta during American sanctions or fly in single prop. engines in the Liberia but huge fears about a simple cataract operation or a minor back-ache.

What is the magic bullet that explains him? This mix of greatness and smallness? I remember we were in Moscow once and there was a problem with plane tickets. I expected this experienced business traveller to take command, and yet he did not – he actively moved away from it by handing the tickets over to someone else. He went down in my estimation a little then though I was in my teens. He told me about how he left an organisation and told his subordinates to decide amongst themselves as to who would take over. I saw a letter to his eye consultant suggesting a cataract operation on one eye but then rowing back and writing that he wasn’t at all suggesting a particular avenue of action.

He was clearly very, very good at what he did – particularly in the first half of his career – but always seemed to be afraid. My mother relates the story of his boss saying that he ‘suffers from so many inhibitions, always inhibitions.’ In which case he was lucky with his managers who recognised the talent and supported his work.

So, in the end, he was a complex person just as we all are and it is far easier to spot weaknesses in others than in ourselves.

He was what he was and the positives – certainly for me as his son – outweigh the negatives. What are the lessons to be learned? …..next post.