Wheelchair bound
My wife used to be frinds with a girl, I think her name was Liz, when she was in primary/secondary school. Liz's mother was something a weirdo. Very deeply religious (That's usually where things start to go wrong), and something of an overbearing presence towads her daughter. Liz was in a wheelchair - I don't know what ailed her but it was a genetic condition she had suffered from since birth - so her mother would do everything for her, but not in a nice way - it was all done very begrudgingly, like she was letting her daughter know she was put out by it all.

She literally cut her dinner up for her, chose her clothes, friends and what she watched, read and listened to. Even though poor old Liz was perfectly capable of doing much of these tasks by herself. They lived in a horribly run down old farmhouse with no inside toilet - only a rickety old wooden outhouse at the bottom of an untended and overgrown garden. The house could only be reached by crossing a couple of fields as it had no driveway (remember - the daughter was wheelchair bound).

All of this was made worse by the fact that they weren't poor, not by any stretch of the imagination. Liz's mother got ample carer's allowance, as well having a not inconsiderable amount of money in the bank that was spent on clothes and a shiny car for herself.

There isn't really a happy ending to this story. I don't know what has become of Liz, neither does my wife. Apparently she got married but is still living under her mother's regime. We saw her in a chipshop once. With her mother and someone who must have been her husband, but my wife was too scared to say hello.

There you go.
( BlueHaze Chutney. All good., Fri 11 Sep 2009, 16:25, 1 reply)

what a grim story
especially the chipshop sighting.
(Cancer Joy was short lived, Sun 13 Sep 2009, 3:56, closed)