7 Signs of Ageing: "Madagascar(?!?)"

A month or so ago my mother had someone bump her car as it was parked. The person was there and was apologetic. For normal humans the story would now go something like - they exchanged contact details, left it up to the insurance companies - the car got fixed - they never met again - the end.

Instead it went something like - Woman took my mother back to her house. Woman is black and called Violet. Probably wasn’t insured. Befriended my mother with tales of moving from Italy with her husband. Mother pretty much spent half the day in their house talking and shit. They agreed to pay for the repairs. Mother got a quote from the garage, took it to their house. Husband not in. Violet told my mother to stay and talked my mother into having a beer, despite it being the middle of the day. Random man calls at their house and tells Violet not to be drinking when her husband gets home and tells my mother she’s an alcoholic. Mother finds it hard to say no. Carries on drinking. Violet shows her the secret hiding places for her drink. Including inside a roll of carpet in the bathroom. Violet is lonely and wants to become friends. Husband comes home. Mother leaves very quickly. Mother happy to have made a new friend. Mother comes to me with a piece of paper with the phone number of Violet’s 18-year-old sister, who is living in Madagascar(?!?). She would very much like to get to know a nice English man. I am a male residing in England. I have to call her because my mother told Violet I would. Mother goes around to collect the money. Husband not very friendly. Mother leaves. Mother phones later to say there is £10 change from the repairs. Violet texts repeatedly like a desperate addict, begging my mother to take it round as she needs it. Mother does so. Mother never hears from Violet again. But sees husband out and about sometimes. Husband glares angrily. I’m accidentally engaged to be married to a Madagascan teenager.


[I'm posting later than intended due to the other day’s vodkarmageddon. Not wanting to burden you with details, beyond the fact my keyboard is somewhat fucked, but the erroneous typing is not only incomprehensible enough to make my nephew inquire about possibly using it for typing things in a secret code, but it keeps changing it's fucked-upness daily, as it sobers up.

For example, the last post was written with ‘shift’ stuck on, which is more problematic than it sounds, and the only way I could turn it off momentarily was by holding down ‘r’ and ‘t’. Yesterday though only holding down ‘t’, ‘f’ and ‘g’ turned it off. Today is much better and as long as I don’t touch shift ever it won’t stick on and ruin things, but if I do I have to restart my laptop to get it off. So, to help me avoid pressing the 'shift' keys, I have pulled them both off and placed them on my Christmas tree of doom, along with dangerously vague looking pieces of turkey.]