90 - Fuck Christmas

Yes, that's right - I did just write, "Fuck Christmas". It's exactly how I feel just now.

I received an email out of the blue on Saturday afternoon from my father, accusing Morag (yes, finally giving my girlfriend's name) and I of being tight-fisted and miserable because we're not giving presents out this year.

This, after explaining to him just how much trouble we're in financially. Ok, we haven't came right out and told my parents that we're bankrupt - but we've told them in no uncertain terms that we're up to our eyeballs in debt, and really struggling to keep our heads above water. We've told them time and again just how much less money Morag is earning just now because she's started to learn Jewellery - she'd earn more money working in McDonalds for Christ's sake!

Nevertheless, my father decided to send me/us an email accusing of of only thinking about ourselves, and basically slapping them in the face by not giving them presents, even though we would be turning up to get presents from them, yes he knew that things were tight, but money was tight for them, and apparently we earn more than they do anyway!

I sat down and composed him a letter basically saying, "WTF?" to remind him of things we've  already told him, asking where the Hell he'd came up with the sums that told him we earned more than they did, and tried to put him straight. I pointed out that if this was going to be their attitude towards us, then they may as well keep their presents  - how the Hell would we be able to open presents that were given with that kind of sentiment?

Well, he emailed back, telling me that he can't remember us telling him that we'd be broke for the next few years, and perhaps we'd mentioned it in an off-the-cuff way, or 'cryptically', whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean. Regardless he apologised and said he would never have said what he said, had he realised our situation. Considering that we've talked about fuck all else but how broke we are for months now, I find it tough to figure out how he couldn't know. He asked that we try to forgive him, and not let it ruin Christmas by not coming over to see Mum on Boxing day. I replied back, saying that we'd still come over, and that his email may not have ruined Christmas, but it's certainly left  bad taste in our mouths.

Add to that the fact that the radiator on our car packed in on Saturday night while Morag was driving home - leaving her stranded on the motorway in sub-zero temperatures for half an hour before the RAC showed up - the weekend was spectacularly shite for all concerned!