A treasure that isn't mine.
First of all, I should tell you about my grandma on my Dad's side. If my Mum is to be believed, she was a pathetic alcoholic without a care for anyone but herself. She died when I was little, but not before I got to know her for a few years. Another thing you should know about her is that she had a very odd fashion sense, and wore an old houndstooth wool jacket (I can't see the patterning without remembering her), and various large rings, which I was constantly told, I used to bite when I was little. I even remember biting into a particular large ring. It had a large brown tiger's eye/garnet stone, and tiny chips from teeth.

Both my grandma and my mum told me that when she'd passed on, I would get that ring. I didn't. My aunt did. You know, fair enough, she was her daughter, I was a granddaughter, and I suppose in terms of inheritance, she gets priority.

But I want that ring. Even at my grandma's funeral, bless her soul, I was sort of hoping to get the ring, so I could have some sort of memento. I saw the tacky piece of costume jewellery whilst trying on earrings with my aunt only a few years ago. I picked it up, and made some off-hand comment about how lovely it was. No, I couldn't have it, it was her mum's. She may as well have told me to fuck off. I asked my mum, and she denied all knowledge. It might have been her mum's, but equally, it was my grandma's.

I know this must sound terribly selfish, but to be honest, I'm not sure I care. I don't have anything at all of Grandma Katie's now, not even the Polly Pocket she gave me. It wouldn't be such a kick in the teeth after this long if I actually liked my aunt.

I'm going to stop now before I actually get angry.
( Bats, Thu 8 May 2008, 19:01, Reply)