Make it stop. Please.

2007-07-22, 5:20 p.m.
Before I get on to the more diverting stuff, there�s new pictures over at Bill Dersbum�s place
if you�re interested. What a busy chap he�s been!

Havent been able to do very much at home, what with the horrific row and the piles of mud and the chaps in big boots and not being able to see to the end of the garden for big clouds of testosterone. Had to cancel my singing lesson on Thursday. Apart from not being able to hear a bloody thing as BF and Chum were hacking up the concrete garage floor with a pneumatic drill, had to get Jooj ready for her School Leavers Disco. Im pretty sure that nothing particularly momentous happened when I left junior school but, hey, things are different now. Mums don�t have to wear crimplene slacks and have a perm, and 11 year olds can look like this when they go out

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Once again, as I dropped her off, I was reminded of how much bigger, older and altogether more mature she looks than her little friends, who were pretty much all in silver disco sandals and body glitter.

When she starts senior school in September I am fully expecting her to get an unsuitable boyfriend before autumn half term. *sigh*. Please would somebody with a similar age child comment and make me feel better about this!

Friday night after work we all got dollied up (ie jeans and glittery top for me, clean t-shirt for BF, ACDC top and gold shoes for Treac and WAYYYY too much eyeliner for Jooj) and went off to a 40th birthday party. There was karaoke. Despite being a professional musician of nearly thirty years standing and part time singing teacher respectively, BF and I refused to get up and sing. At about ten to 11, Jooj suddenly announced that she wanted to have a go.

She got up, in front of a room full of strangers and did Sk8er Boi (having been talked out of Black Parade by her ever-loving mummy who has heard her singing along to both songs in her bedroom).

Being slightly nasal and slightly flat added to the authenticity of the performance and meant if was far more convincing than, say, the big fat drunk woman preceding her, who thought that knowing �Zephyr in the sky� were the first three words of Ray of Light would be enough to carry her through the entire song. It wasn�t.

We cheered like loons when Jooj finished.

Got the kids to bed by about 11.30 and then went into the kitchen for a bit of a nightcap as Id been driving and was craving cheap whisky.

At 20 past midnight the phone rang. It was Stalker . Hell, no. Lets give him his name. It was Jez.

He starts on about how I haven�t responded to his previous correspondence or messages and how he really does think its time I did something about it, so that he can stop having these things hanging over him. I say �For starters, dude, its 20 past midnight. And you�re the one who keeps bringing this stuff up. Not me.�

He says, in a VERY admonishing tone �Don�t be cruel, Stepfie.�

I think he was expecting me to apologise at that point. Instead I say, �I think you�re the one who�s doing that, pal. Now go away.� And I hang up. I cried a bit. After ten years, this is starting to get to me. Every time I think he�s got the message, he starts up again.

BF goes into the hallway and is fiddling about with the phone. Unbeknown to me, he�s using the 1471 thing to get Jez�s number. He sits on the floor and starts dialing. He gets Jez�s answerphone. He says,

�Jez. Hi Mate, its BF. Im Stepfie�s fianc�. If you ever phone her, speak to her or write to her again, Im going to come round there, rip your fucking head off and shove it up your fucking arse, you cunt. Now fuck off.�

Then he comes into the kitchen and apologises. Im kind of thinking he may have made things worse but to be honest I don�t care. Im so sick of Jez and the way he seems to think that any of this is my fault. Ive never been anything but civil to him, despite all the provocation Ive had. Ive said a non-committal �hello� if we�ve happened to be in the same room, but all the withdrawing from shows and the messages and the letters and the presents have all been instigated by him, with no input whatsoever from me. To be honest, I don�t even think about him from one month to the next. When he�s not actually harassing me, he ceases to exist as far as Im concerned.

About half an hour later, the phone rang again. I answered. Jez said �Ah, Hi BF, its Jez�. I said �Its Stepfie.� And heard him say �Oh shit!� under his breath. He said �Look, I don�t want a war, but you..�

Before he could say anything else I said �Leave me alone. If you phone me again, Im going to the police.�

I unplugged the phone and BF and I went to bed. I forgot that the spare room phone is on the same number. At 1.20am the phone rang again. It rang and rang. We were having sex by then so we didn�t answer.

Saturday morning I thought I was OK but every time I started to think about it I was all tearful again. I phoned my sister and she said I had to go to the police, even if it was only to lodge it as yet ANOTHER complaint. BF told Chum and P, who had come to do some building work and they were all for getting is address (yes, I do have it) and going round to his house. Im pretty sure that would stop Jez from ever contacting me again but Im also pretty cure that it would land some people in court, and Im not sure how leniently a judge would look on two extremely brawny groundworkers �picking on the poor mentally ill sensitive charity worker� in his bedsit.

Jooj had friends visiting in the afternoon so, as the weather was crap and the house was like a building site, we all bundled into the car and went to the Oceanarium at Bournemouth. The visiting children hadn�t been there before and it was a lovely afternoon out. We had icecreams on the prom when we came out as it had stopped raining and was quite warm. I bought them all telescopes in the gift shop (even tho they were all pretending to be too cool to want one!) and we spent a bit of time looking at stuff through them (mostly fat people on the beach!).

When we got home, I took all the children back to their respective houses and went to the police station. I took the latest batch of letters and gifts (including the Love Will Tear Us Apart cd) but I needn�t have bothered.

The bored looking desk clerk took the most perfunctory of statements from me, didn�t look at any of the stuff I�d taken with me, and then gave me a slip of paper with a reference number on it. Presumably, this is so that if Jez ever comes to my house and murders me in my bed, they will be able to tie the paperwork up nicely.

If he contacts me again, I WILL get the restraining order. I know now that I shouldve done it last time, but I was trying, again, to give him the benefit of the doubt because he�s sick and doesn�t really know what he�s doing. As Chum said yesterday �I dont care if he�s sick. Look at you (I was crying). He�s making YOU sick. Just tell me where he lives.�

He is making me sick. Every time the phone has rung today, Ive nearly jumped out of my skin and Ive been petrified if the kids have got to the phone before me that it will be Jez and he will be talking to my kids or, worse, giving them messages to give me.

I am at my wits end.

Later
S
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