Fish and chips – Double Fist Pump

Even though things weren’t great growing up there are some good memories amongst the dark messy blob I still feel trapped in.

Being a country born and bred family we had meat and veg most nights. I never ate pasta until I left home and started my lustful romance with all things carbs. Once a month though my mother would announce we were having fish and chips. This usually had me grinning and imagining the fatty and greasy chips I was about to consume.

Fish and chip night, watching new episodes aired on television of the Simpsons and sipping on soft drink was one of my best memories.

Another memory that makes me smile is my rabbit, Peter. Peter had some serious long great genes for a long lifetime. He was big, white and had big red eyes. He was adorable although my pet had built up a little bit of an attitude after having my father’s working dogs think he was a sheep and run continuously around his hutch. I would sing little Peter Rabbit had a fly upon his nose and he would sit ignoring me.

Once Peter died though we got two rabbits. Meant to be the same sex but they had little bunnies so I guess they weren’t. This is where I learnt the lesson: psycho rabbit mums will eat their babies.

Coming from a family like mine, you grow up thinking that the way to interact with others is to put them down. It makes you feel better about yourself. Sad but true. This is what my family was all about. You could never say anything out of line to my parents though. They were excellent teachers and I always enjoyed my sister being told she was stupid and a waste of space. Kind of made me feel less alone.

Birthdays were always pretty special too. Not by my standards now but it was the one day my mother could fake smile as she handed a small and inexpensive gift to me. It was the one night you got to choose what was on the menu for dinner (limited choice to choose from but still a treat) and after dinner, my father would stagger to bed completely intoxicated and leave me and the rest of the family to a simple Sara-Lee cake to celebrate. Things felt tense when my father was around, he had a temper and step out of line just a bit and he would showcase that temper.

These are small memories but ones I treasure. They were the gold among the insurmountable dirt that it lay in.

 

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