Current mood:

angry

The bold part is the part I can never forgive.
A long, long story.

The reason we came home from Poland so early was partly because Nina was homesick and freaking out (which she was every night - having to call mum and crying herself to sleep), and mainly because I was in no way certain that my dad wasn't going to harm us, himself, or both.

Basically for the entire time we were there he'd be ok, until something would remind him of mum or Nina would request the phone to call her, and then it would be dark looks and muttering. He'd say things like "Well, you can't take it with you..." in a melancholy tone when I asked for some money to buy a souvenir, because he had given me no money to keep on me, despite having asked him several times. He would have a few drinks in the evening and, knowing how aggressive, vicious and mean-spirited my dad gets when he drinks, I would worry. When he had had a few drinks he would tell long, rambling, melancholy stories about his relatives in Poland who were now dead. He would get annoyed when I asked why he hadn't contacted any of his living relatives and friends. He said the odd suspicious thing - talking about how he needed to "head out early to pick something up" and not answering when I asked him what. He was not impressing me with his mental state.

Long before going to Poland he had mentioned to me that he felt suicidal. That he was planning to "just disappear". Many comments in that vein.

When Nina was looking for the suncream she opened a drawer in the bureau in our hotel room and we had a re-enactment of Alan Partridge's NOT IN THAT DRAWER incident. Coupled with all that had happened previously I was concerned. I waited till he was next downstairs having a drink and Nina and I were in the (one and only) hotel room (another thing that made the holiday stressful. We should have had two rooms) and checked the drawer. I was half expecting sixteen packets of sleeping pills and a knife, to be honest.

It contained a notepad full of frankly INSANE rantings about my mum, about what she'd done to him, about what she was DEPRIVING him of. It contained the phrase "Some women at age 46 who are overweight might consider themselves LUCKY to have a man like me." Yeah, so that's the gist of it. I'm sure mum feels very lucky to have an abusive, drunken, passive-aggressive, jealous, possessive, bigoted, closed-mided, homophobic, racist, misogynist, sexist ARSE clinging to her leg like a boy of 14 who just can't believe his woman is leaving him. But hey, she's fat, so she MUST BE SO GLAD TO HAVE A MAN WHO DOESN'T BEAT HER. Fuckwit.

Anyway. As well as this, there was a stack of index cards. On which he had neatly copied out some of his more vitriolic and mental statements, several of them underlined in red. Like some kind of school excercise. A set of flashcards. Yeah. WTF.

That clinched it. I was not staying in that place, feeling worried, feeling like he might harm us or himself or both, with him with a drawer full of what looks to me like some kind of insane suicide note or justification of whatever he might do. I called my mum.

There was a lot of wrangling, but she basically told me that she would try to arrange a flight home for us, or for us to be taken to a place of safety by the Polish police. I'm freaking out at this point. I do not want to have any contact with the Polish police. They're well known for not speaking English, for being rural boys who come to the big city because the wages are marginally better than what they'll get on a farm, and for generally being a bit unreasonable and thuggish. However, the receptionist at the hotel, I am told, speaks excellent English and will speak to them on my behalf if it's to come to that.

I was genuinely afraid. And I knew I had to explain to dad when he came up from the hotel bar that we were not staying for the final three days of the holiday. Everyone knows that the most dangerous time for a woman is when she tells the man she's afraid of that she's removing herself from his company. We (my mum and I) decided to play it like we were just going because Nina was homesick and not feeling well. At this point I was in the bathroom on the phone while Nina watched an episode of German-dubbed Brainiac. As soon as dad appeared I ushered Nina into the bathroom and explained that she wasn't well and was very homesick and that mum has offered to get us a flight home to save her extra stress, and so that the holiday wouldn't be ruined by making her stay when she was unhappy. Also that nine days was too long, we tried, it didn't work, maybe next year, blah blah placate placate.

Of course he fucking blew up. He acted like a total dick, went on and on and on about how this was "ridiculous", "another thing your mother has done to me", etc etc. Nina of course could hear him. I told him to stop making Nina feel bad. he didn't stop. I went to get our passports as at this point I didn't know whether mum was going to call and say "I've got you a flight in an hour, get in a taxi." I started packing. He kept saying "what do you think you're doing?" and the like. I patiently explained several times. When I went to get the passports he seriously scared me by effectively forbidding me to take them. Did he read the textbook on being abusively controlling? Eventually I got them, put them in my bag and put my bag on my shoulder, over my head.

Mum called. We had a flight in the morning, early, and she'd also booked a taxi to take us there. All we would need would be our passports, since we didn't need a ticket. I put Nina to bed. Dad was pacing, muttering, kicking things and generally freaking me out and doing nothing to assuage my fears. I was starting to hate him by this point. Nina was crying silently in bed beside me. She was thinking it was her fault. I told him to go to bed.

I was not expecting to get much sleep. Dad eventually lay down on his single bed and I lay down with Nina in our double. Nina had her eyes closed but she was awake.

I dozed a little, then he got up. I snapped awake. He walked over to our bed and sat in the chair next to it. I said "What are you doing?" He said "What do you think I'm doing? Do you expect me to sleep after what you've done to me?" I said I wasn't interested in hearing it. He ignored me. He started talking about how he- in fact, I'll just type some quotes. Bear in mind Nina is wide awake, and as far as both he and she know, we're going home because she's homesick:

"I put money on that phone in good faith so Nina could call your mother, and now you do this to me?"

"This is just another thing your mother's done to me."

"There's only so much humiliation a man can take."

"She's a clever woman, your mother." (Spat in a tone of utter vitriol.)

"So what do you expect me to do on my own?"

"What are the hotel staff going to think? It's utterly humiliating."

"This is utterly ridiculous."

I said several times to be quiet, that Nina was awake, and was he trying to make her feel bad? He ignored me. Just kept on talking. Saying things like "How much more do you think I can take?" I felt genuinely afraid. I was readying myself to grab Nina and remove her from the room, down to reception and from there the police. Nina was not at all happy. Eventually he got up and went back to bed. I got no real sleep.

The next morning he pulled a wounded soldier bit. All sad smiles and noble-effort-to-hold-back-the-tears. Hugging Nina and saying "Bye bye sweetheart." He paid for the taxi, which meant I didn't have to use the money I had had toraid his bag for since as I said he wouldn't give me any to keep with me. I kept my mouth shut. I was way to tired to call him on his blatant two-faced pantomime. Nina was quite cheery, but very tired.

End of story. We got the plane home, via Munich, bizarrely enough. Mum got us. I was relieved.

Yesterday he asked if he could have a word with me. I thought I might be getting an apology.

He told me he didn't bear a grudge towards me, that he was "cool with me". I told him to fuck off.