I’ve never been more upset, never! Never, ever. I cried myself to sleep last night I’m crying as I type this on my keyboard! A teardrop has literally just fallen onto the 'H' and then another one on the F5 (whatever that does)!
My nephew Michael says Auntie Ima's a conman! She hasn't sent me the money, £8.46 million stirling, but if you're reading this Auntie, then send me the money NOW and prove everyone wrong - but don't bother doing it if you're a conman, because then Michael will be right!
Because just before Christmas I got a lovely email from Auntie Ima in Nigeria, and I admit I didn't know I had an Auntie in Nigeria (but Dolly found out she had a cousin in Stanmore once), but Auntie Ima said because of a business transaction and also money being left to me in a Will, she had £8.46 million stirling for me, and all I had to do was send her a small transaction fee, but I wasn't to tell anyone, otherwise the £8.46 million stirling could 'burst'. But Michael says this wasn't true and that she's a conman!
Anyway, because I knew I was going to get all this money, I decided I'd buy my own mansion with a butler and slave, and finally tell everyone I knew, in the Home and out the Home, exactly what I thought of them. (Auntie Ima, if you're reading this, please get in touch, or just get a mini-cab over with the money as soon as is convenient!)
So the day before yesterday, at 5pm, I gathered everyone together, absolutely everyone, Dolly, Margaret, 'Mark', Zuzzie, Benny, in the Big Television Room at the Home and I'd written out all my thoughts the night before on Post Its I'd got from underneath at Reception.
So I told Margaret, who runs the Home, how dreadful her hair always looks and how I can't bear her boyfriend, his silly voice, and she looks like mutton dressed as lamb in those 'jeans', and I told 'Mark' how no one believes he's married, and then Dolly about how jealous she's always been of my hands, and Zuzzie about how I couldn't be bothered to give her the letter with all her chemotherapy appointments because I was sick of hearing her moaning about them -
And I only said all this to clear the air, and in fact, Auntie Ima herself said she thought it was a very good idea, which is how I knew I could trust her! But now Michael says she's a conman! And that she isn't even an Auntie (or not mine, anyway)!
I'd asked Michael and Louise along to the Big Television Room as well, so then I told Michael how I knew he was after my money and Louise how if she were to choke on a bone it would be too soon and I'd just watch her choke and choke and wouldn't lift a finger, and then I said to Dolly again that it was me who distributed the pamphlet in Brent Cross that said she was wearing a wig and that I was going to report Louise to social services for husband abuse and I was going to make sure that became a crime by writing to my MP as well -
And instead of being glad because I was brave enough to speak the truth, everyone got very upset and cross with me! And so I went upstairs and went to bed, and then the next day I waited for Auntie Ima to send me the money or deliver it in person...
But all day I waited, and she never came, and nor did the money, and as I say, Michael says she's a conman! My own Auntie a conman! And she's not even a Man, that's how good she is at conning!
And so now I'm sitting upstairs alone in my room, no-one in the Home is speaking to me, and I've lost a lot of money because Auntie Ima said in order to get the £8.46 million stirling, I had to email her a transaction fee, and then a handling fee and then a rehandling fee and then a booking fee and then a rebooking fee, and then a booking cancellation fee which she said wasn't what it sounds like, it's actually the opposite of cancellation, and now all of that money has gone, and my lovely nephew Michael's so cross with me, he's not answering my phone calls!
I wish I'd never chosen Auntie Ima instead of him, but I didn't know she didn't have the money so that's a mitigating circumstance, but Michael says he won't take it into account!
So now I'm going to be all alone in the Home over Christmas and the New Year, no one's talking to me, Margaret is furious, and I'm crying myself to sleep every night and every day, and that's my Christmas and that's my New Year!
Auntie Ima, it's Mitzi! Please get in touch! (But not if you're a conman, or if you're not a woman, or if you're not a real Auntie!)
Showing posts with label auntie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label auntie. Show all posts
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Another Whole Business with Louise
Once again, I’ve had nothing but grief and more grief, more grief again, and then yet more grief, and then even more grief – like a big bowl of grief chicken soup, with grief noodles
Michael, my lovely nephew, had arranged for Louise (his wife – and a one-hundred-per-cent cow) to bring their gorgeous little daughter Joanna (aged 6) round to the Home for me to babysit on Wednesday afternoon. I could tell as soon as she turned up that Louise hadn’t wanted to bring her but there was nothing she could do once Michael had arranged it
Anyway, the whole afternoon went very well, and at 6.30pm, on the dot, Louise arrived to pick her little daughter up to take her back home. Have you had a lovely time? She asked.
So then Joanna told her mother all the lovely things we’d done. I must say, I’d really spoiled her but then that’s what great-aunts are for! First we watched a new DVD from the library, a self-help one called Making A Living Will, which is useful no matter what age you are. Then we played kalooki together like we always do, though Joanna got a bit upset because she lost six months’ pocket money (which came to £16.75) - I play a-pound-a-hundred and Joanna doesn’t really understand about kings, queens and jacks. And then we had a lovely tea (I’d asked Margaret to set an extra place for her): celery soup (not grief soup!), and bread, and butter, and black coffee for dessert, a real spread.
Oh that sounds lovely! said Louise, and for once I thought we were going to say Goodbye without having words, when Joanna, who’s always putting her foot in it, said something about phoning Social Services.
Well that let the cat out of the bag. What do you mean, Social Services? Said Louise, in a funny voice, like she’d heard someone say an alien had landed from Mars! So I explained that once Louise had finished dropping Joanna off, I’d noticed one of Joanna’s pigtails had lost its knot and that she had a scar on her knee and that her hands were filthy with pen marks. So, just to be on the safe side, I’d made a quick call to Social Services and reported that maybe – and it was only ever ‘maybe’ - Joanna was suffering from neglect, end of story. Just as a precaution.
Well! I wish you could have heard Louise’s reaction. None of the ladies in the Home had ever heard the like! How-dare-you this, and I’ve-never-been-so that, and my-heart-is-well-and-truly-broken; until eventually I said, Listen, Louise, I might have been right, I might have been wrong, I just didn’t want it on my conscience in the future if I’d done nothing. Apart from anything else, I didn’t fancy getting a mini-cab there and back to the Inquiry.
And then I said, and another thing, changing the subject, you need to lose some weight, darling. Why not try just having fruit for lunch?
Well, even that tip for her own good didn’t calm Louise down. So once again, she left the Home on bad terms with me - and all because I happen to care about her own daughter more than she does (though she owes me £16.75)!
Michael, my lovely nephew, had arranged for Louise (his wife – and a one-hundred-per-cent cow) to bring their gorgeous little daughter Joanna (aged 6) round to the Home for me to babysit on Wednesday afternoon. I could tell as soon as she turned up that Louise hadn’t wanted to bring her but there was nothing she could do once Michael had arranged it
Anyway, the whole afternoon went very well, and at 6.30pm, on the dot, Louise arrived to pick her little daughter up to take her back home. Have you had a lovely time? She asked.
So then Joanna told her mother all the lovely things we’d done. I must say, I’d really spoiled her but then that’s what great-aunts are for! First we watched a new DVD from the library, a self-help one called Making A Living Will, which is useful no matter what age you are. Then we played kalooki together like we always do, though Joanna got a bit upset because she lost six months’ pocket money (which came to £16.75) - I play a-pound-a-hundred and Joanna doesn’t really understand about kings, queens and jacks. And then we had a lovely tea (I’d asked Margaret to set an extra place for her): celery soup (not grief soup!), and bread, and butter, and black coffee for dessert, a real spread.
Oh that sounds lovely! said Louise, and for once I thought we were going to say Goodbye without having words, when Joanna, who’s always putting her foot in it, said something about phoning Social Services.
Well that let the cat out of the bag. What do you mean, Social Services? Said Louise, in a funny voice, like she’d heard someone say an alien had landed from Mars! So I explained that once Louise had finished dropping Joanna off, I’d noticed one of Joanna’s pigtails had lost its knot and that she had a scar on her knee and that her hands were filthy with pen marks. So, just to be on the safe side, I’d made a quick call to Social Services and reported that maybe – and it was only ever ‘maybe’ - Joanna was suffering from neglect, end of story. Just as a precaution.
Well! I wish you could have heard Louise’s reaction. None of the ladies in the Home had ever heard the like! How-dare-you this, and I’ve-never-been-so that, and my-heart-is-well-and-truly-broken; until eventually I said, Listen, Louise, I might have been right, I might have been wrong, I just didn’t want it on my conscience in the future if I’d done nothing. Apart from anything else, I didn’t fancy getting a mini-cab there and back to the Inquiry.
And then I said, and another thing, changing the subject, you need to lose some weight, darling. Why not try just having fruit for lunch?
Well, even that tip for her own good didn’t calm Louise down. So once again, she left the Home on bad terms with me - and all because I happen to care about her own daughter more than she does (though she owes me £16.75)!
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