So, we need to register the death now, I’ll come and pick you up said decrepit FIL. Honestly, don’t worry, we can walk (was now half term so small was home and tbh it would be safer to walk in the middle of the road than get in his car). NO I insist, I’ll collect you both. He turn’s up, actually only 30 minutes late, because again things have happened that have held him up, blah blah bollocks. The man has never been on time for anything ever.
He drives quite a sporty little number but OMG I want to get out before we have even left and pulled out, his poor clutch must be crying with the over use and the rev counter is going sky high. Small person looks at me with large eyes and I just roll mine as we pull out into the main road at about 60000 rev’s and 2 miles per hour.
I know exactly where we are going but he insists on using his SAT NAV – they are wonderful things so I’m told, yes but really, to drive all of a mile or so when I know exactly where it is, he must think women have no idea and can’t map read, he is a misogynist so I let it go. Tempted at this point to ask if Timbuktu or Hell have postcodes he can find. Lights go red, can smell the clutch screaming now as he rev’s constantly……………..we’re on a flat road you idiot, poor car. Roar away and thankfully we’re there within about 5 minutes with another set of lights and a roundabout just about navigated without causing further loss of life. Think by this point I’ve actually eaten a whole fingernail, should have had breakfast. Small is busily playing on my phone and catching Pokémon so all is okay in her world for the moment. I’m quite glad I’m still in shock and running on adrenalin because at this point it’s helping muchly.
I think for a millisecond that he’s being nice and polite and dropping us at the front door but no he’s actually parking there. There’s a huge sign that says NO PARKING and even double yellow lines but, his words “I’ve lost a son so I’ll park where I want”. This is the arrogance that’s got him in a bigger pit now than the Quatermass one, a story for much further on. We’re blocking the entrance for any nice people that might possibly have a wedding booked or need to register a birth, sigh. Does he care, no because he is more important and it’s not just the grief, this man would honestly argue with God that he knew better.
Registering a death, it’s a really simple procedure, you get ushered into see a nice lady who only needs a few questions answered and then you can leave. ONE AND A HALF HOURS IT TOOK., I kid you not. Small person, who has been amazing and brilliant and handled things so well, was almost off trying to climb the walls. There’s not many Pokémon to found in the town hall. “Mummy, how much longer, we’ve been here ages”. I apologise and try to move things along but no no no, bonkers him is now reminiscing about life when the boys were young and ……………yes, his health problems, I’m now keeping my fingers crossed that the testicle doesn’t get mentioned as I think the poor registrar might faint. There’s a pub over the road, I’m wondering if he’d even notice if we left as he’s utterly oblivious to anyone other than him and his massively over inflated ego, he might not even notice if the registrar comes too and we can just leave him there talking to the walls.
My eye’s now have gained the ability to automatically roll and I’m also biting my lip quite hard to stop from either bursting out laughing or screaming profanities at him.
Mummy, I’m hungry and bored and why is Gramps talking so much? I want to go home, NOW.
The next few agenda items go pretty quick as I explain that when my kiddo is hungry and it’s lunchtime then things can get pretty messy, I’m also looking forward to a vino and a good rubbing of eye’s session as they ache from all the rolling. I really wish I could raise an eyebrow, my sister can but I don’t seem to have inherited that gene, would be very useful right now.
Finally we exit, little folders of gubbins and leaflets and half a tree’s worth of stuff I will never want or even look at again but I’ve got the death certificate and……………which he is yet to find out, I have a will! He’s too busy grumbling about the cost of copies and why it’s not acceptable to get one and photocopy it when he has a very good photocopier (eye’s are rolling!), try to explain that it’s a legal document etc etc but Mr Scrooge is in full on Scrooge mode. Past caring by now and I’m sure if there was a thought bubble floating above my head it would have said something like “shut up you stupid waste of time and space, your making a hideous situation worse”. He’s yet to apologise to his only grandchild, infact I think he’s yet to even speak to her other than to say hello as he picked us up. This is quite normal, they take very little interest yet apparently adore her, they only ever shop in Tesco so every birthday or Christmas present is basically cheap or not something we would ever want or need. We have more plastic plates with Peppa sodding Pig on than is normal for a family with 18 children let alone 1 and don’t get me started with the amount of Frozen stuff. They asked me what she’d like for her birthday, she turned 8 just 9 days after he died, I said a kite as ours seems to have been eaten by something that lives in our garage. Simple eh? A kite, one of those things on strings that you fly. You go onto some site like Amazon and just look up “kites for kids” and click and order……it’s 5 months since her birthday now and he’s still “looking about to see which is the best and most suitable”. I’m going to order one myself for her for Easter, sure it will take me all of about 10 minutes to decide and click. Let’s go fly a kite, up to the highest heights, I have visions of a stunt kite that you can make those dramatic dives with, only thing is this one is made from a large pole with him attached to it and I can crash land him, where tho?!