Saturday, 17 August 2013
Saturday, 27 July 2013
I met an English Blue Blooded man, his parents came here at the same time as mine and there were not many young people. We got together, married in Gibraltar, had a boy, Daniel William in 1985, and have had a fantastic relationship ever since. The girls took his name, they were never officially adopted because the father wouldn't allow it but even their passports are in the name of Napier, all of their school stuff also. Everything they own is in the name of Napier. My husband's name is Lenox Napier, the girls call him Daddy. They met their biological father when they were about nine. Hated him and have never spoken of him again. Lenox is their daddy for sure and they love him to pieces. I bought the farm adjoining my parents so the children could just run from one place to the other with no traffic or anything. We lived in that house until Lenox' father died and since his house was so much bigger and had a pool we thought it wise to move there. It was a move of less than a kilometre. I was forced to let my brothers live in my house with no rent eventually I had to give it to the older one to keep peace in the family but if it was ever sold he would take out his money and me mine and then we would share the profit. That didn't happen. He recently sold the house for a fortune and I didn't get a penny. When my mother was mentally ill the two brothers got her to change the will and keep me and my sister (the only family who stayed in America) out. They now own everything and won't even pay back the loans that we gave them to get through the bad times. My older brother is dying so everything will go to my little brother who is a shaven headed tattooed biker who wants to kill us as if it was us that stole the entire inheritance from them!
Enough for now. Lots of this is in my other stuff so I don't want to repeat too much. We are no longer rich we are poor and had our business taken from us by our accountant and the sales managers some time ago. They owe us a fortune and now they want to take us to court for calling them names on the internet. I guess I am starting to get mad. I better stop. We will talk later. Let me know what kind of thing you want.
Much Later. Barbara died a year ago this Thursday June 4th 2015.
She died after a long illness, bravely borne. I've posted something on Spanish Shilling. As far as her siblings go, there's a little more to add here. The oldest was her sister, Susanne, who has never been in contact with me - not once - in my 31 years of relationship with Barbara. I expect she is not worth knowing. The older brother Jim was a psychopath. He was in Mojácar in the seventies and was actually deported for ten years for drunkenness, drugs and house-breaking. His misbehaviour caused the parents to split, with Barbara, a young woman of 19, looking after the younger brother Mike for a year and a half in California. Jim never worked in his life and usually lived off women he seduced (or off his mother's pension, if times were bad). He took over Barbara's stables on the family compound and turned them into his own property. He sold Barbara's cortijo for a fortune (we had been forced to sell it to him at 'cost' to keep the family peace). He died early 2014. The younger adopted brother, who - with the help of a local abogada - ended up as the owner of the entire family estate (an estate with several houses on it located above the village which looks over the Mojácar cemetery) hasn't spoken to me in years and couldn't even bother to make it to Barbara's funeral.
What revolting people!
Saturday, 3 December 2011
How stinks that goat on yonder hill,
When all it eats is chlorophyll?
That’s an old poem that my mother had never heard before we moved to England, when I was a child. Our first house in England was a beautiful cottage in Barrington, Cambridge. The house was beside a river with a large garden and for some reason three thatched train carriages in the yard. It was probably the coldest house we ever lived in and the family joke was that the fat on the bacon congealed before it made it to the breakfast table. Having come from a 2,000 acre farm in Maryland, USA, with lots of animals, my mother tried to make us feel at home in our new environment by acquiring a few pets. The first was a miniature apricot poodle to try and replace my lamb that I had to leave behind and the second was a male goat. She brought a male goat home thinking it would be great to keep down the undergrowth alongside the river and for us to play with. Someone saw a sucker when they saw her coming. As adorable as it was as a baby it grew into a very smelly, willful animal that just stood most of the time on a small pillar, with all four feet, that happened to be right outside the front door. Every time you would open the door this increasingly large and stinky goat with horns would knock you down in the rush to get into the house. It became such a menace that my mother tried to find a home for it with all of the local farmers. Everyone of course knowing that you don’t want a male goat, except my mother, who, give her her due, was a fast learner. One day the Vicar passed by, collecting items for the church fete to be held in the common gardens in the town. While drinking his obligatory glass of warm sherry, the vicar was surprised to see that my mother had donated the goat to the cause. After much discussion about her generosity, the Vicar left with the billy goat in hand. I am sure that its ghost still perches on the narrow stump outside the door at the parsonage to this very day.
You see no one wants a male goat, a sad fact but true.
Monday, 27 June 2011
I won’t be attending the 40th reunion this year of
Say 'Hi' to the kids at Fruitvale Junior High...!
Saturday, 14 May 2011
A parent is the person who raises you, nurtures, teaches and loves you through, good times and bad times; a person that is always there to help. A parent teaches you right from wrong and moral values. Biology has nothing to do with it. It makes me really mad when the courts say that the biological parent has legal right over a child or children, when they may not have seen or even contacted them in years. Or worse; they come in and out of the children’s lives and make false promises. What makes these people, who have abandoned their children, think that when they are feeling alone and getting older that the children, they never knew, should step in and let them be part of a family? If separated parents come to an arrangement and both parties take responsibility for the children then it is a different matter. When the children have been abandoned; without child support, birthday, Christmas or even valentines cards, have never had any attempt made to stay in contact by phone, mail or visits, I think it is cruel and pathetic that they decide to get in contact when they know the children are grown and doing well. The worse parents of all are the ones who every few years move into the child’s life, promising to continue the relationship; only to disappear for years at a time, only to return when it suits them. Don’t they realize that most of these children have a new parent in their lives who is stable and who loves them unconditionally; if they don’t then the estranged parent should never have become estranged. They should have stood up to their responsibilities and not play tug-of-war with the children’s delicate emotions. When one parent disappears sometimes the remaining parent tries to make excuses for the missing parent. This is not a good idea. You should never tell children bad things about their missing parent when they are young but you also shouldn’t build them into a hero figure. If a parent has abandoned their children for their whole life and these children have a happy, healthy and loving family than I think they should stay out of the children’s happy life because in most cases it just brings grief and problems. They usually end up screwing up again anyway and disappear once again, leaving the children emotionally scarred.
Monday, 21 March 2011
Jessica after spending a day with Terrie Armstrong. See the haircut!
Sarah's Birthday. Sarah and Jessica in Ben Lomond
Jessica and Samantha Ross in 1979 in Ben Lomond, California.
This one is Mary Johnson Smith with me and Jessica, must be in 1977 in River Ranch Circle in Saratoga, California.