J.Karst Journey in West Berkshire

     ‘Welcome to the new edition of this Guest Blog. I am a full-time working mum of 2 boys and a published novelist of ‘The Ninth Cross’ by my pen name J. Karst. I get involved in trying that little bit I can in saving the environment for the future generations.’

             You might have noticed the lack of new blogs in the last two weeks. I needed some time off as sadly my bellobed father-in-law passed away unexpectedly. We are still grieving so it’s been difficult to try to remain positive.

            Many of us gone through a similar thing since COVID so its even more important to try to remember them all before we lost them forever. I was going through the photographs which sent multiple memories flooding in. One I shall share with you all now for all of us need that little smile.

            I can’t say how soon should one meet each other parents after they move in together. I was somehow petrified as within couple of weeks of living with my then boyfriend (now husband) my man announced that ‘oh in a couple of minutes my dad is coming over to help with that curtain pole.’

            Blood drained from my cheeks – I wasn’t ready to meet his dad. I only just showered and haven’t put on any make up nor was I dressed to be presentable. The doorbell rung and petrified I shouted, ‘I am not here’ and dived underneath our bed.  

            Whilst I heard them exchanging greetings, I was trying not to swallow the dust underneath the bed. Once I saw pair of feet walking into the bedroom, I desperately held the urge of not to cough. At one point I thought that they were wood turning the curtain pole because it was absolute ages they spent at the window. To my horror a very hairy spider decided it was a good fun to have a visitor and waddled towards my face right up to my nose. Screaming wasn’t the option and fear of spiders was smaller than fear of meeting future father-in-law.

            What seemed like hours, they left the bedroom. The torture hadn’t ended as they decided to have a little tea break and a natter. At that point my bladder was signalling the urge to visit the nearest facility. Hearing the cups chime against the kitchen sink was very appreciated, only to be followed by the disappointment as the downstairs toilet door opened and closed. The tea worked well on my future father-in-law and the sound of flushed gushing water made my bladder to dance cancan. I pondered how our relationship would go on if I made a puddle underneath his bed when finally, the front door closed, and he has left the house. I made a run worthy of Usain Bolt and scattered some cobwebs on the way.  

This was my secret which eventually was shared with my father-in-law.  To my surprised after giggling he said that he knew someone moved in with his son as soon as he walked in.  It was my time to freeze, ‘how did you know?’ I asked him, did you see me?’.

‘No, I didn’t’, he replied, ‘but the place had changed. There were curtains in every room, the fridge was filled with other stuff than milk and beer, there were scatter cushions on the bed and the toilet was finally fitted with a toilet-roll holder’…

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