So things were not going well financially. I had left the newspapers and all the security that offered and had been attempting to strike out on my own. I was involved in a business called Genesis which was dodgey in every sense of the word. It’s latest re-incarnation was a clothing-cum-coffee shop on the main road of Sea Point.
I was in business with a dear friend – ‘Spongehead’ (lovingly named that by my eldest when she was about 4 due to his rather odd blonde frizzy afro-like mop of hair!). He was and still is a wonderful human being, unfortunately despite this and his incredible ideas and passion, the finer points of running a business eluded him! Little things like paying accounts and saving were particularly problematic. So there we were in the proverbial poo with a humungous amount of stock and coffee and virtually no customers! Lovely!
I was about to be turfed out of my flat for non-payment and life was getting just a tad hellish.
Into this walks ‘The Tiger’, so named for this blog because of the enormous tattoo of a tiger on his chest, which he attempted to remove. Hmmm perhaps I should name him ‘The Welt’… Added to this rather strange tat he had burn marks around his neck-accident or rope? A long handlebar moustache and funny enough the best legs I’d ever seen.
His energy screamed madman and con artist, but I ignored it. I was terrified if I lost my home that I would lose my child. The adoptives had threatened me with the welfare so often over the years because I was always one step away from financial disaster, that when this latest one threatened, I was terrified.
I had managed to support myself and my child without any assistance from her dad or my family, but I was worn out.
Nothing and nobody was going to remove my child.
The only immediate option I could see was to allow myself to believe Tiger and his promises to care for us. Frankly I would have bedded the devil if it meant keeping my child.
We got married within months. I was wearing jeans and a bright Cerise T-shirt-in a church-true story! Present were the minister, my parents, my daughter, Spongehead and Tiger. My dad gave Tiger a ring to wear and I had this hideous cubic circona job we’d bought at some el cheapo shop.
After a 5 minute ceremony the deed was done and the minister in all his magnanimous glory took us to the Spur to celebrate.
We were both, without questions, thick as two short planks, and because of this, deliriously happy!
I had unwittingly by trying to avoid losing my child, created a situation guaranteed to bring that about!
Oh the hell that was to follow!
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