Saturday, 21 June 2014

St. Peter. Autumn 2009 to summer 2010 part 1

Yes, well this tenancy wasn't all bad, just a bit tough.
I went to view the place, it was interesting, the family were interesting in that there were three houses and a flat above a garage, all in the same family.
Yes, this was an interesting place, and for a while I got on quite well with the people who owned it.


  • I arrived at the house and was met by an elderly lady, who soon told me all about everything, her son owned the house next door, she and her husband owned the house and the flat above the garage, and her ex-daughter in law and grandson owned the house on the end, she hated her daughter in law. The house that she and her husband owned had three rooms to let to lodgers,
  • Two men rented the other two rooms, both were migrant workers and had jobs, then there was my room, small, brown, pokey and no room to swing a cat, not that I swing cats, bad idea.
  • I accepted the room as it was what was on offer.
  • I was offended when the woman said that she had to take the contact number of a next of kin for me, and that she didn't do that to the men but because I was a woman she would. I thought that was very dark ages and sexist, but Jersey is very dark ages and sexist and detrimental to women, it is only a democracy in theory. Anyway, with JM gone, I had no next of kin and so I gave her Philip LeClaire's number, and got the digits wrong, now used to the Jersey way and how privacy is simply abused, I gave a number that didn't exist. Haha, tough! :) I guess learned dishonesty because of abuse is nothing to laugh about really. 



  • The couple got me to play card games with them, but I was depressed and didn't love that.
  • They would invite me to their private lounge, where they had a vicious parrot who was a bit like the one I used to feed at the nurseries, they had a cat as well.
  • The woman said I was like a daughter but Philip LeClaire said I should take that with a pinch of salt, and he told me what that meant as well, but after the churchwarden couple, I would never believe in anyone or let anyone close, so that was that.
  • It made me sad, this couple were well off and had everything, and yet, they were not happy people, the woman used to complain and complain and say she wished she was dead, she talked a lot about the occupation and how as a schoolgirl she had lived in fear of being raped by Germans on her way home from school. I think the occupation changed people for life and left a legacy like that.

  • I was still working at my job, 30 hours a week, and doing freelance work as well, going to college and training in the evenings, sailing often, busy, in the background I was deeply distressed with the diocese and fighting to get them to act.
  • I got on well with the landlady's son, who was an ex-police officer, and sometimes I had a coffee and chat with him, I wonder if his mum wondered if anything was going on, but nothing was, we chatted, drank coffee, and he started explaining to me what was really going on in Jersey, and we both agreed about how awful the building and bribes industry was and how rapidly it was changing Jersey for the worse.
  • He had heart problems and started to have collapses, that his mother blamed on the ex-wife being around. It was worrying, and his mother was very upset, and so I asked them if I could ask my church for prayers.
  • They agreed, and said they had been churchgoers but the former Dean had offended the landlady so badly that they had decided church was a sham.
  • So I asked my curate friend at St. Clements to pray for the landlady's son.

  • That was before Jane Fisher intervened and took my church and curate friend from me.
  • Anyway, I was at work one day when I got a shocking message, my Dad had had a second major stroke, I knew full well the consequences of a second major stroke. Since Dad's previous stroke, I had become closer to him and my family, in a way I clung to them due to what had happened with the churchwarden, and in a way, I realised the value of my dad's life, and also he had mellowed a lot since his first stroke and had become friendly and would phone me, which was nice, we got on well.
  • So, my brother let me know that dad had had a second stroke, and, already, as you know, in a right mess, I was more so, because basically I knew my Dad was going to die.
  • I was at work so I went to my boss and said that my Dad had had a second stroke, he replied by telling me to head for the airport and I could catch my work up another time.
  • I headed for St. Clement and my curate friend, and told her what was going on, and then headed for the plane.
  • Dad didn't wake this time, as we sat with him, he moved a bit, but we were told that was nerve movement, we talked to him, but he never responded, we shared memories with him, and we cried.
  • Now all sorts of problems were occuring, I was to sleep on the study floor at My parents house while I was over, but my Mum was not in her right mind, and she kept getting up in the night, walking over me in the study, wandering off, going to the hospital with notes for the consultant even though she wouldn't go to the hospital during the day to see my Dad.
  • Horrifyingly she had reacted identically to his second stroke as to his first, leaving him unconscious and choking on his own vomit rather than calling an ambulance, which left me horrified and confused, but at night as she wandered, I was in a stupor and could not wake properly to stop her.
  • Having been so far from my family, I did not understand the tensions in the background, and it turned out that my sister's ex-boyfriend who had been a close family friend, was a paedophile and had been sexually harassing my younger sister when she was under age, he was arrested not long after dad's death, yet another massive shock as he had been part of the family and had always made time to come and see me if I visited the family.
  • Anyway, I flew back to Jersey briefly as there was nothing I could do and I had work and a tenancy to keep, but my brother phoned and told me that Dad was brain dead and they were switching his life support off.
  • I was in a car park when I got that news, and I sat there, drove home, and wrote a tribute to my dad, with my recent picture of him smiling, my siblings raved about the tribute and included it in the funeral, I who was always so voiceless when they all talk, my voice was heard for once.
  • I flew to the UK, and they had switched Dad's life support off but he was still breathing, coughing blood and unconscious.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5j3XE20QjI
  • My brothers and sisters went away to get drunk, and I sat alone with Dad, and sang to him, I sang 'Thine be the Glory' which was a hymn that he used to sing us as a lullaby when we were little, being autistic, he wouldn't have seen anything wrong with singing a hymn like that as a lullaby :)
  • He remained alive and unconscious for several days after they switched the life support off, they kept injecting him with painkiller and I asked why, seeing as he was brain dead, could he feel pain and if so, what was he in pain from? I got no answer.
  • GP, my sister's ex-boyfriend, sat with me and Dad, he loved Dad and he was devastated.
  • I returned to Jersey and flew back for the funeral, at the funeral, 13 out of us 15 siblings were there, the most of us to be together ever, it was a noisy gathering, and tensions occured, one sister said she was only there to support us and not because she loved dad, the two who didn't come had been blatant in their hatred for him, which was sad, but the one who said she was there for us and not dad, spoiled the funeral by saying the good things said about dad were lies. And from then on, tensions and quarrels broke out and continued, affecting family relationships, including my relationship with family members.
  • Dad's death was not just the death of a person but also the death of the cult and the beliefs that had been the foundation I had been brought up on, and that isn't nothing but it doesn't go into words to explain to anyone who has not grown up in a cult.
  • I returned to Jersey shattered and in a daze, I couldn't sleep at night or wake during the day, I was a zombie, a hopeless helpless directionless zombie, it was now November 2009.


No comments:

Post a Comment