Was my interview too flippant?

I had an interesting chat last night with my very good friend, who was upset that I hadn’t come across well on the iPM interview.  She felt I had been too flippant, not really reflected the absolute agony and despair we had both gone through as this story unfolded.  She does have a point.  I felt there was no time in an half hour interview to go through all the traumas, especially as I knew whatever I said would be edited down into about 10mins.  Personally, I don’t think a 10min time slot is enough to capture the horror of seeing the life I’d had planned unravel in front of my eyes.

I have referred in this blog to my “history of events”, explaining that it is still too painful for me to return there. Indeed, in our friendly conversation last night, within minutes of speaking seriously about what my friend had witnessed me going through, I was in tears.  This is what I mean about it being too raw.  She reminded me of how I wouldn’t leave my husband for a second, how I dragged him around like a useless appendage.  He didn’t want to go out, was too ashamed to meet anyone, but I was desperate for the help of others.

She is right, I don’t think I mentioned him being suicidal and then, after her life saving offer of our living in her caravan in her back garden (and finding us a temporary home for our 5 cats), him being arrested and me sitting in their kitchen, tears streaming down my face, but having to pull myself together and go to work.  Or of my lowest point, after having found us a home, got myself a job, dragged my husband back to living, I crashed and decided that Mike’s earlier plans, of us taking our own lives together, hand in hand, suddenly seemed to be the only solution.  I could picture it, it seemed so attainable.

She’s right – that would have made for a different interview.  I am still on anti-depressants.  Every time I think of coming off them, some mini-drama occurs sending me back to the pack.  I need him out, home and clear before I can even begin to think this nightmare is behind us.  And there, I suppose I said it, it is a living nightmare which I skilfully cover up and make light of for the entertainment of others.  But I don’t want to upset you all, life is currently – this week – good.  My garden looks like something from WW1, mud included and none of my cats will come in the house because I’m cat-sitting my niece’s cats.  Oh, and my husband is still in prison.  Oh well, you can’t have everything in life can you.

Here’s my iPM interview

And what a nice man that Eddie Mair is!

I’m still having a debate with myself as to whether or not my husband lied to me.  In as much as I never asked the question “how we can we afford to do what we do”, then he didn’t lie to me.  I honestly believed we did up our house and took holidays on his salary and bonuses he received.  Although according to SBS I don’t think he ever received any bonuses – strange that, him being the only person in the company not to have been paid a bonus.



Going Public

This is an interesting one.  Follows on from what I was saying a couple of posts back, or even a post back, in that should I continue being anonymous?  Well, I just kind of blew that out of the water by offering to talk to a journalist on a national radio programme (sorry, I’m still in anonymity mode, it’s a hard habit to break).  I offered to talk about life as the wife of a criminal.  At the end of the interview I actually left thinking I had been really boring, that I’d nothing really to tell and there’s people out there who have worse lives than me.  Actually that is very true.  Compared to many I have a good life now – a roof over my head, I’m currently earning, I can even afford to put up my 26 year old nephew rent free whilst he attends our local college.  I even shopped in Waitrose today, although that was a mistake – I only went there because yesterday I saw they had meal for two for £10.00 and was overjoyed that this included a bottle of wine.  Heck, I’ve been drinking homemade elderflower for weeks now, my guts could do with some shop bought plonk.  Unfortunately, when I went back today, the offer had finished, but I did manage to find a pack of four fresh figs that were half price.  Yummy.  Our old house used to have a fig tree in the garden and that’s the one thing I do miss – big, fat, sun kissed fresh figs.   Sitting behind the gently curving wall that I myself partially built, in what became known as  the “rose garden”.  Hahaha.  Yes, it was a lovely house with a beautiful garden.  Compared to my vertically challenged back yard I now have… do I miss it…. NOOOOO (except for the fig tree).

Anyway, I digress.  Yes, so I finished the interview thinking I’d been boring but on the way out to the car park, I was accompanied by the guy that set up the interview room.  What a sweet lad.  Very apologetically, he told me he had heard what I had said, about my life post criminal prosecution, and revealed that his mother had been arrested and imprisoned for shop lifting many years ago.  His mum had subsequently only ever worked in low paid jobs, part time and had recently been diagnosed with cancer.  His mother actually said it was “god’s punishment” for her earlier misdemeanour’s.   Now how sad is that.  Here’s a woman who apparently got involved with the wrong crowd, shoplifted, got caught, took her punishment, but her own personal punishment continues throughout her life.

What are we – martyrs?  I know we can’t all be running around breaking the law but we can all make mistakes.  But to have to pay for that mistake throughout your life.  Heck no, that’s neither fair nor true.  Let one person look me in the eye and say they have never, ever, done anything wrong.  Doesn’t matter how small – like the £2.00 I took from the petty cash tin when I had no money for a lunchtime sandwich (Ms Perry, in case you are reading, this was about 25 years ago).  Have you never speeded, avoided paying your car parking ticket, found some money and not taken it to the police, fiddled your taxes (sorry “evaded”).  Most people try it on.  Most people have a limit to what they will try on and know where to stop.  But if you keep trying it on and don’t get caught, the temptation becomes too great.

I’ve digressed again, haven’t I.  I’m pleased I opened up on the radio.  And I will continue to proudly announce that my husband is currently in prison awaiting a better life when he is released.  Gay’s come out to the world – so should wives of prisoners!