The sun is out, I'm listening to Tom Petty's "Learning To Fly" always an uplifting song, and I need it right now, as I'm impoverished again. Enough to make anyone depressed, not being able to afford anything.
This is something both my parents rose above in their youth, my father was born to a slum in Stockton, Stockton is a very poor town right at the top of England, and the slums were houses built 200 years earlier for the industrial revolution. Needless to say by the 1950's they were in a terrible state, damp and without proper sanitation. His mother was very ill, she had asthma epilepsy and rheumatoid arthritis, she was also severly depressed, and commited suicide when he was 10, he came home from school and found her.
The family moved out of the slums shortly after that, and the slums were blown up, everyone moved to an estate with better housing, called Hardwick Estate, which is still there now. My dad's father married again soon after his first wifes death, contraversially to her worst enemy, called Lily. My dad was too young to understand really, but his older sister did, and this has caused a rift in our family for many years. My dad was moved between his father and his new wifes house, and his sisters house, until they all disowned him when he was 18, for taking drugs, the Final straw came when his father and step mother came home to find him on the comedown with several of his mates, they'd taken all Lilys dexadrine (formally Known as slimming pills, but banned for that purpose now because they're just speed really .) He moved out of their house to a bedsit, and later went to the Isle Of Wight with his friends to work in hotels, who were concerned about his depressed state. Tune in tomorrow for the story of my mothers childhood in the slums of London.
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