Friday, 25 February 2011


My family is in trouble again…

Anyone living in Brighton may know that last week there was a fire at 3 Widdicoombe Way in Moulsecoomb.

That’s my sister and nieces house.

I’ve changed names to hide their true identities because they’ve got enough on their plates at the moment and I doubt they would want anymore unwanted attention dumped on their shoulders.

My sister will be called Katherine (37 years old) and my nieces will be called Gabby (21 years old) and Ruby (17 years old).

Katherine has been arrested on suspicion of arson (and because of which can’t be re-housed by the council), but I know she didn’t do it. It was her girl friend who started the fire and who has subsequently fled Brighton to Guildford where her dad lives.

The thing you should know about my sister is she’s a tramp…

I hate to admit it but it’s a home truth even I can’t ignore anymore.

She’s off the heroin and methadone but hooked on the super strength beer.

In her own words she says the last time she was ever 100% sober was at aged 11…

“Even through my pregnancies I was smoking dope,” she said.

It’s funny because she likes to proclaim that she’s off drugs. But I just tut because she says it with a can of special brew in her hand…

The long and short of it is that their house in not habitable and locked up. Katherine is seriously killing herself and my nieces are scared shitless.

To top it all off, last night Katherine broke down in tears and revealed she was raped when she was 12 years old by one of my mum’s boyfriend, while mum was crashed out up stairs drunk on brandy.

I remember the night. Peter was our mum’s new boyfriend of about 6 months. We had spent a summer in his house in Wales. Peter sold boats and paid us a visit in Brighton having been to the Southampton Boat Show.

He turned up with wine, cheese, brandy and a Chinese. We had a good night and for 28 years I never knew anything untoward happened, until last night when Katherine dropped the bombshell.

“Why do you think I’m a lesbian?” she said.

On top of that she said Uncle Hugh tried to kiss her. In a way that shocked me more. Peter was a stranger but Uncle Hugh was someone I’ve known all my life and who was very much a father figure to me growing up.

He was incidentally the only to totally disown Katherine once her heroin addiction became known, following our mum’s death in 2001.

Katherine spent the night of the fire in a police cell. The following night she spent on my sofa. The night after she spent at the hostel where Ruby was staying, the night after that she slept on the street and the following night back on my sofa. That was yesterday and she was meant to slept on my sofa again tonight but she nowhere to be seen and I have no way of contacting her.

The bottom line is that she’s heading for the grave at an alarming fast rate.

Her daughter’s admit that even though she is generally messed up, she’s really really messed up at the moment.

“She just doesn’t care anymore. She doesn’t care about anything. She drinks JD all day and gets paralytic drunk,” Ruby told me.

They are scared and I am scared. Katherine is killing herself and it’s only a matter of time before I get the news. Hey it could even be happening tonight as I write this.

My name is Matthew Taylor and I’m her brother. I run my own business and live with Karina and our kids, Elizabeth (5 years old) and Lewis (9 months old).

I can only help so much and I’m doing everything I can. Katherine is welcome to stay in our spare room for as long as she wants. Karina has brought her new knickers, socks, clothes and shoes. We’ll feed her, bath her and even read her bedtime stories if it’ll help. But I have limitations. As the old saying goes- You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.

Which brings me to my blog. My family is in trouble…

Can you help?

Wednesday, 23 February 2011

2.20am on the morning of the 22nd February 2011.

I wish I was asleep but alas I’m not because my son Lewis is making piglet noises and talking in his sleep having just suckled at his mother’s breast.

The night started so well and with such promise. I went to bed early like the good boy I am. 9.30pm, leaving Karina getting high on the music of the Kings of Leon, trying to play the tablature of the song Birthday on the guitar.

Only to be rudely awakened by Karina coming to bed at 11.30pm. She awoke me by gesturing to Lewis who was asleep in the cot. The impression I got was that I should look at the awkward position he had got himself into.

(Leave him in that position, I thought in my head. He’s been asleep thus far; you may as well leave him to it.)

Karina repositioned him and went to bed herself.

Once in bed she nestled up and we had a cuddle to seal the night away.

I noticed she had been twisting her hair. This is something she does whenever she’s stressed or tired, so I stroked her arm a hundred times to sooth her stresses and strains away.

At last sleep slowly approached.

That was until Karina and Lewis started to snore in unison. Lewis snored due his blocked nose and Karina due to her general snoring condition.

Sleep quickly retreated and I was left lying awake.

So I went down stairs and checked my Facebook page.

Earlier in the evening, I posted three news stories about he recent civilian war casualties in Afghanistan, which wasn’t being reported by the Western press.

‘Why isn’t the Western Press reporting the mounting civilian death toll in Afghanistan I shouted away?’

Martin Sprigg replied with ‘Doh, they aren’t because if the public knew what was going on they’ll demand our troops withdraw and come home.’

Karina came down blurred eyed.

‘I thought you was in bed’, she said.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I got up was because her snoring was keeping me awake.

“You should get some sleep Matt”, she said.

Anyway, ten minutes later I took her advise and went to bed.

Creeping into the bedroom I thought there was a monster there. The quilt and billows were piled every which way and all I could hear was what could only be described as a monster grunting away in the darkness.

Once getting closer I realized it was Lewis breast-feeding. (A noisy piglet suckling on his mother’s breasts. Arh, so cute but so naturally guttural.)

Once he had his fill the suckling/grunting subsided and for a moment, it looked like sleep would sweep me away to Never Never Land.

(I was having a fantasy of experiencing a vision of standing at the highest hill in Brighton and watching a nuclear missile strike at the heart of Brighton. Off looking behind me and seeing further nuclear missiles explode and their raising mushroom clouds as far of as London. I knew the time and day it would happen and told everyone on Facebook of my vision.

My status read, ‘Matthew is certain that Great Britain will experience nuclear annihilation at 12 noon, on the 4th of March 2011 because I was standing at the top of a hill over looking Brighton and had a vision of nuclear weapons raining down and mushroom clouds raising all around. I hope it’s nothing but if not, beware and prepare.’

On the 4th of March 2011, I made Karina, Elizabeth and Lewis pack their most prized possessions and follow me up the hill to relive my vision. I lugged up a big suitcase full of my pictures, DVD’s, books and diaries. Elizabeth had a bag full of toys and Karina carried a bag full of nappies, food jars and a change of clothes for Lewis. She thought the whole thing was a complete waste of time and was only doing it because I had demanded she do so.

Low and behold at 12 noon, Nuclear weapons stared raining down and mushroom clouds started rising. My vision had come true, but before any nuclear blast hit us, a bright light from the sky engulfed us and we were lifted up into a spaceship and were whisked away to a briefing on the far side of the moon for a briefing, before traveling further to a huge underwater city on Europa, a moon of Jupiter, to start a new life.)

But just as Peter Pan stretched out his hand to whisk me away, Lewis began to whine.

And whine, whine and whine.

Karina picked him up and wouldn’t let him go.

The previous evening Karina and I had a long conversation about the best course of action to take when Lewis whines. Pick him up briefly and put him back without any further stimulation.

So after counting to 120 seconds and waiting for Karina to put him back in the cot, I gave up.

Only to be amazed by Karina getting up and turning the light on.

“Why have you done that Karina?” I asked.

“He may have pooed in his nappy” came her reply.

But there was no poo and after the light going off Karina laid him back into the cot.

As expected, there was no way he was settling. Karina tried and tried. I could hear the tone of her voice become more and more desperate.

“Please Lewis, lay down and get to sleep,” she pleaded.

‘Fat chance’, I thought, especially after waking him up having turned the light on.

Karina couldn’t handle it any longer and fled from the room. Leaving me alone with him.

He whined, whined and whined some more. After five minutes, I could stand no more and tried my best to get him to rest.

I picked him up, smoothed him for twenty seconds and put him back.

It seemed to work for a bit. The whining continued but it seemed as though it was subsiding. That was of-course until Karina came back in the room.

All of a sudden Lewis sensed her present and upped the anti.

Karina wasn’t about to take command so I did. And for some reason Karina let out a stifled laugh.

“What on fucks sake are you laughing for?” I admonished her, after which she fell silent and said no more.

I tried holding him close and getting him to sleep but all he was interested in was getting closer to his mum.

“Here,” she said, “Let me feed him.”

And that was how I let them at 2.20am. Lewis grunting away on his mother’s breast, slowly but surely falling asleep.

It’s just gone three am and it’s about time I’d done the same.

Many thanks for listening and please come back again.