So family huh?
I've always been brought up to believe that family's everything.
I can diss and attack my family all I like but if anyone else dared to start on them, I'd defend them to the end, which is another reason why I am willing to put my life on hold to help a woman who has hurt me constantly for many years.

My Dad's family are different.
Even before I was totally sure, I knew they were bad, the older I got the more I realised they weren't just bad, they were scum and now they've graduated onto cocksucking fucking scum.
They are the kinda people you read about, money grabbing, benefit cheating, drop-out-of-school-at-12-to-have-kids-and-live-on-benefit kinda people.
They used and still use my Nan and Granddad shamelessly, and my GreatGranddad too.
In fact they robbed a man of 90-odd so shamelessly that when he died from being a rather comfortable man to a man who had nothing in his room, where he lived with my Nan and Granddad apart from £20.
Even though he shouldn't have been driving, they'd still con him into taking the kids to school - when they went and using him as a taxi.
There's hundreds of stories I could tell of them, but in case this blog is ever found and I'm rumbled by a member of my family I shall keep to the story I was starting to tell yesterday, because as far as I'm concerned they helped kill my Granddad, and they ruined the funeral, you can make up your own mind about if I'm over reacting or not.
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So Granddad was seriously ill in hospital, in Intensive care, drips, monitors, the works.
He needed rest, he was dying for God's sake, you give him rest.
That's why you limit the amount of people around a bed right?
I think, at the last count, at the funeral there was 13 of us Grandchildren and 12 Great-Grandchildren.
I think I'm somewhere in the middle of that order.
Anyway, I'm banned from coming home up in Derby, and My aunts brought the kids to see him.
Little un's, as in under 4's.
My Dad protested. "Why bring them? They ain't gonna remember him?"
6 or 7 around the bed and outta control.
But he was outvoted, by the Aunts, the older kids and my Nan.
"Sure they will, and he don't mind do you?"
Like I said. Anything for a quiet life so he agreed.
The Scum were running around, my mum rang me shocked once.
"They're climbing all over the bed, pulling on the drips and monitors!"
He's dying and he needs REST and they're climbing over the bed and stuff.
As far as I see that's bad enough.
Day in, day out, he's getting them trampling over him, Dad spoke to the nurses, but they were terrible.
Somehow Granddad seems to be getting slightly better, they talk of bringing him home, probably just so he can die in his own bed but he did seem to be slightly improving.
One day, no kids appeared at the hospital.
Dad was curious and asked why.
"oh they've been up all night, puking and shitting."
Dad who is also laidback totally lost it, didn't help that this was the same day he'd been told the cancer had spread.
You just don't bring kids that are ill, into a hospital to spread germs to a seriously ill elderly man.
Surely, that's common sense?
Not to my Aunts.
They accused Dad of trying to run everything, not considering their wishes, not thinking of Granddad.
They tried to get him stopped from visiting.
A few days after that Granddad worsened and died.
So as far as I'm concerned they helped kill him.
Now they all pleaded poverty so my Nan paid for them all to have funeral clothes, and for flowers, big gaudy flowers, expensive ones.
I don't know about most people but I would have said that you don't take kids to a funeral, not to someone they aint gonna remember or if they don't know the right way to behave in a church, you leave them with a neighbour, the postman, whatever.
So I came back from Derby and we went to the funeral.

And here's where I realise I can't mourn, I've still not cried, as I'm angry over the fact that I couldn't have come home and am in my "need to take care of everyone else first" role.
The house is running riot with kids, outta control kids and more and more are turning up, its like a fucking circus.
Its ok, I'm angry but you expect shit like this with them.
The hearse arrives.
As the flowers are arranged me and my other Nanny and Granddad sit in my Uncle J's car.
I'm watching open-mouthed as several of the kids attempt to CLIMB into the FUCKING HEARSE!
And are then cheeky and rude when they get chased away by the - the - what do you call them? Pallbearers?
So we reach the church and again the kids are running riot, with no effort made to control them, running over graves, memorial plaques and stuff.
Into the church itself and you realise exactly what kind of nightmare this is going to be.
They have plastic carrier bags with them, with crisps and fizzy pop and stuff in them.
Throughout the mercifully short service, they shout, talk, scream, climb on the seats, DROP and LEAVE their rubbish, grinding it into the carpet.
You couldn't get sad, you were too busy being that ashamed and angry at them and whenever I start to get sad about my Granddad who was an all round ace guy, I think of that debacle and I get mad.
Honestly I wouldn't have been surprised if when the coffin went down, to see them climb on it and after it.
And the worst thing was after that funeral, when they were running riot again, another funeral showed up.
They must have already been suffering and to have to go into that church with the crisp packets, ground in crisps and rubbish must have been awful, or they must have delayed the funeral for a good ten minutes while they cleaned up and got the hoover out.
I've already said, that when the time comes, if any of them even dare show up to Dad's I'll call the police and have them removed, I don't care.
His sisters can come if they really must, but they don't give a shit and never have, only reason they ring (occasionally) now is if a sudden guilt trip hits them.
No kids.
I won't have them making a mockery of this funeral too.
Family huh? Can't choose them, sadly enough.