Aunty Binks

Aunty Binks

This is Audrey or as we were introduced to her on the red carpet in the middle sitting room back in 1971 or 72 as Aunty Binks. My brother Jonathan who was just 6, said: “But you are not our Aunty, you are the housekeeper”. Aunty Binks looked at him and said: “If you don’t call me Aunty Binks, I won’t talk to you”. And she gave him a fixed, cold stare. Lester and I both smiled as two very little children. 4 and 5 years old and very deeply already wounded by the events that had unfolded in our first early 0 – 5 years old. We all were already marked by the entrance of she. She became quite a central figure full of her own design to set up her own two children in our family home. We were under the radar and very quickly we were out.
Dismayed at how life has rushed past my shadows and my day to day.
Who do I think I am? On a good day, willing, open-minded , sure footed and full of vigorous sentimentality; yet am I here to wash away my sins or crack open anew that binds me upwards to Gods country?
I am currently reading a big book on The Russian Revolution that I picked up in Glastonbury Town over Christmas, ‘Caught in the Revolution’ by Helen Rappaport that sends me shivering into humanity that crushes, and loses all sense of being aligned with God. A bigness of tragedy that tells you how bad the aristocracy and big wigs failed to even bring bread to the workers in St Petersburg in the crippling cracked winter of 1917. The men at the eastern front fighting an enemy of brothers whom had been set upon by the covert secrecy of a closed, treacherous and twisted order, whose aims were to carve up countries, and gain resources no matter what- who-how

I call these men The Globalists. And should  more information be asked, should anyone care to read about why wars happen, Terry Boardman is a very important historian and on line lecturer who joins up the dots to show the men whose long term agendas were single pointed towards mass terror to take power at all costs in the name of globalisation. I digress. 

Yet my first blog unfolds and spills outwards as I feel full of tears. 

Then as I read late into the night, I dream of being chased down, found out, caught glaring into the fear based upbringings subconsciously that resonates moment to moment waking me up. 

I awake to the alarm, and gather up my my teenager who is tired of school already and it’s only two days in. 

I get up, make tea and suggest earlier nights and then ask, How is school? 

Out she purges, bad teachers, trying to find groups, it’s hard out there. Then I remember my own. I was alone. Scruffy, unkempt, trying so hard to be liked, and to be accepted by my peers. 

My own teenage hood was short lived on the farm. For no sooner than I d finished my last exam, then I was out, literally being crushed into a life that was of another’s choosing. Namely Aunty Binks. 

She, the lover of my father, and the main character that kept me fed, yet not a one to one who ever became a mother figure, of is she had, my ideas of what a good mother should be, were discordant and extreme to the point of cold, stern and cruelty spelt my underpinnings. I grew up innately targeted as almost a bastard and nothing more than a mistake. 

This impacted my every particle of intracellular living that led me very quickly into a world of sex, drugs and rock n roll. Gosh, I feel sorry for my big middle aged self. Having said that, I enjoyed much of my escapism through finding the elixir that unleashed a giant crude girl/woman mimicking her disgusting father who was a central figure in my years to come. I loved that man. Worship comes to mind. Yet he was an appalling role model who gave hardly any loyalty to his blood and flesh. It meant I grew up in his shadows as forbearance towards my own miscommunication and self love that fast became self loathing. 

I had more character defects built in-& designed to sabotage my life. However I somehow must have been good in another life time, because my inner radar for good, truth, creativity, all abound my make up and enabled me some fortuitous chance meetings with the world at large. 

This is my first unfoldment and here I aim to offer hope, hints and tips that remind me why I enjoy living here right now even under the thumb of fear and fearlessness. 

I have nothing to lose in sharing my story. And I look forward gently to meeting you by meeting me through heart felt, soul searching and honest investigation. 

Thank you

The longest shadows stretching out and inwards to the imagination Somerset 2017

The longest shadows stretching out and inwards to the imagination Somerset 2017

 

2 thoughts on “Aunty Binks

  1. Pingback: Where have all the Birds gone… | Straight From The Horses Mouth

  2. Pingback: Where have all the Birds gone… | Straight From The Horses Mouth

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