The freakish sunny weather has broken but the cloud and showers here in Glasgow are more fitting to the grim situation I'm in which has no happy solution in sight.The first strand is, as ever, C's volatility (actually both strands involve C). He had Brian Cooper (who gets his full name mentioned for being a nasty wee tit) up last weekend to Drumbuidhe to try and commission the new control system for the wind turbine. The system is sophisticated, expensive, potentially dangerous and uninsured. Setting it up is far, far beyond C's capabilities and Brian is also working well beyond his knowledge and experience. Had I known Brian was visiting I would have delayed my travel up to Drumbuidhe but, apart from saying he was looking forward to me coming, C didn't mention this. I arrived to find a fair bit of mess (three days of dirty dishes and half-eaten meals and, as he always does, Brian had slept in his bed without putting any sheets on ...). On Sunday morning I was lying down inside waiting for my midge bites to die down (I'd been tying up the peas in the garden) when Brian decided to come in and demand to know if I had a problem with him because I hadn't said I was pleased to see him. I decided not to mention his casual racism and sexism but did say that no, I didn't like him, because he never made up his bed, gave no help with food or washing up and was taking money from a vulnerable old man to help install an illegal and dangerous electrical system (the plans for the current system is that it will allow the wind turbine to be switched on, from Glasgow, over the internet ... since 19 previous turbines have collapsed and it stands, unprotected, next to a public footpath, the danger is obvious). Brian responded that Drumbuidhe was a "rough and ready" place where you didn't need sheets and that it would "kill" C if he wasn't able to install this new system. Hey ho.
Brian left a couple of hours later having failed to set up the system and, I suspect, having told C that I was being rude and obstructive. I went off to the village hall committee meeting and when I returned C was in bed. The next morning C had started hard drinking again and, on the back of a couple of strong whiskies, he lost his temper when I said I was going to make up the beds in the fank for guests arriving next week. I'd suspected this might happen and, for my own safety, I had my bags packed in the car, so I said would head back to Glasgow. C responded that I should "fuck off" because I had "ruined his life".
So I'm back in Glasgow waiting for C to calm down and, please God, stop drinking so much.
The second strand is that, two weeks ago, I was checking my dad's papers in his flat in Glasgow (we have a problem with our broadband supply and he'd told me to look there) when I found his will which he'd changed in 2010, just after he was detained by the police for assaulting me. He had disinherited me. K was to inherit his Glasgow flat and his 1/3 share of Drumbuidhe was left to his (six and four year old) grandsons, to be managed by K 'til they reach majority. Although he has a generous pension C has no other assets (all my mum's savings have disappeared into the wind turbine) and he's currently paying K about £1,000 a month since she's got money problems at the minute. If this will stands, K will sell Drumbuidhe in the blink of an eye.
I asked C about the will and we are making slow steps to have him change it again but he is furious at having been found out doing something both stupid and nasty. His fury is currently directed towards me and the "betrayal of trust" I've shown by going through his personal papers. All friends and neighbours are appalled by C's action but powerless in the face of his raging pride and crappy judgement.
My current diet is mixture of chips, cigarettes and stress so recipes will have to wait for future blogs.
