I was born in a sleepy village in the Yorkshire Dales and Im now twentytwo. Mum and Dad kicked the bucket just a few weeks ago, so I could finally skip town without feeling guilty. Their funerals were tiny affairs hardly anyone turned up, even though they each had a whole army of siblings.
When the services were over, the whole clan rushed off with urgent business to attend to. Well, may the Almighty watch over them! Their haste convinced me it was time to leave; the memories were just too raw.
Life back in my hometown had never been a picnic. In secondary school I was the resident punching bag for a bunch of rowdy lads. After university and getting my first job I turned into the perpetual gotoguy for the tough jobs for my bosses. I had a think, and decided to try my luck elsewhere. I sold the family cottage in the Dales, packed my bags and headed for the coast, where I bought a modest plot in Cornwall and built a cosy 150squarefoot shack.
Once the build was done, I snapped a few photos and plastered them across my socials. During construction I rang up a slew of relatives for advice, but each one swore they knew nothing about my plans. Not a single soul offered a word of help or even a decent tip.
Come summer, the whole family suddenly started phoning, saying theyd taken a sunandsand holiday and wanted to bunk at my place. I could have said yes, but why?
When Mum and Dad were laid to rest, the relatives hadnt bothered to show up, and they hadnt offered a penny when I was struggling to make ends meet. Now they were eyeing a free beachside stay, which, frankly, isnt exactly a bargain.
That season I learned the hard way that Ive got a big clan, they all love me, and they miss me terribly. Even a few former schoolmates started dropping messages, singing my praises, and begging for a visit.
I was fed up with the hypocrisy, so I posted a cheeky little innocent fib on my feed something about dreaming big. I added a picture of the ramshackle shack and claimed Id blown the family houses savings on it, begging anyone to swing by and perhaps lend a hand fixing it. As soon as I hit send, my relatives and old mates vanished again, citing urgent matters. Turns out theyre all as broke as church mice.
Now I sit on a sunny beach, wondering why folks are so twofaced and the world so ruthless. I thought about uploading the photos to my site, but decided not to stick a red rag in front of a bull and tempt envy. Maybe next year Ill share a snap of the real house and see what the familys up to.
