Una Bruja Gorda

Rocksey has a first wife, well an ex first wife, the problem is she just doesn’t seem to go away!!

The Witch (or as SP may say una bruja gorda) lives in a very nice house, bought and paid for by Rocksey when they were married. Trouble is at the time fo their divorce, the Judge ordered the house to be sold with a financial split very very much in the favour of The Witch. Even though their daughter  – The perpetual student – left home a long time ago to pursue her studies ( more of this in another post), The Witch continues to live in the very nice house for nothing.

The very nice house has been up for sale for 12 months. A house like this will be snapped up – said the first Estate Agent  – it won’t be around for long. The first agent turned into no 2, rapidly replaced by no 3, no 4 and no 5. The Witch does not want to leave her lair, she does not want to reduce the price, she does not want to show anyone around and she certainly doesn’t want to discuss any of the above with Rocksey.

She has reduced several of the Estate Agents to tears  – of dispair if you ask me ( no one does though – I have to keep a diplomatic distance as The Witch says she finds me intimidating – hmmmm…..kittens do have claws by the way) as  she swooshes in on her broom and shouts loudly at their so called incompetence but forgets that when a viewing has been booked she has accidently gone out to have her nails done, or her hair, or her bloody broom maintained!

She sends texts to Rocksey punctuated with xx’s ( this drives me mad) and if she spots him anywhere, shouts over loudly to him ‘Hi there baby , how are you?’ She doesn’t do that if she sees me with him though – her features screw up and her witchy eyes cast spells in my direction. Then she cries and pleads (by text) to Rocksey to take her back and go back to live in the very nice house with her again. He (of course) ignores them.

Today has been a trying day as we have been to Court to try to get the whole process speeded up by asking the Judge to demand she stops procrastinating and get the house sold.

How on earth does anything happen when The British Justice System igets involved? We arrive at the Courthouse at 10am as we have been informed to do. The place is packed with all sorts of people – mostly people that you normally wouldn’t associate with  – a bit like being in the GP’s waiting room with all those sick people – you just want to get in and then straight back out and into a very hot shower. Mind you, the people at the Court can’t be really bad criminals – after all they have all been caught doing whatever they are there for so they must be pretty rubbish really.

We go past the bad boys and girls and head for the family court where divorced and nearly divorced couples and their expensive lawyers sit in angry bristly silences waiting for Judges verdicts to free them of their misery. All those couples who once were so loved up they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, whose days were spent holding hands and whispering sweet nothings in each others ears now look like they would rather have their hands round each others throats and so ignore their close proximity to each other by looking the other way willing the morning to pass so they can get away from each other and back to holding hands and whispering to their latest love interest, vowing that next time it won’t come to this. The lawyers smile enigmatically at their clients and at each other, ££ signs in their eyes knowing that yes, their clients will be back in a year or two, maybe some will be there several times over, this time it will be different they tell themselves, this time……

Rocksey and I sit together with his lawyer, a softly spoken Asian lady who reminds me of one of those innocuous small red chillies that innocently sit on your kitchen counter aromatically waiting for you to throw her into the pot whole saying nonchantly  – its only one – it won’t be too hot – and then have to lay with your head in the freezer greedily spooning strawberry ice cream into your mouth begging for the pain to stop!

The Witches lawyer – Fatty –  on the other hand, looks like he side stepped the chilli and went straight for the pies. Not only is he fat, he is grubby looking, he  wipes his face with his hanky a lot and so he starts to look greasy ( the air con is not on and the waiting room is very humid – on account, I think, of all those uneasy couplings around us). He is not sitting close enough for me to smell him but the unpleasant look on The Witches face tells me all I need to know that I should not move any closer. I almost feel sorry for her…almost.

The Witch stares pointedly ahead avoiding my gaze. I often wonder what Rocksey saw in her. Isn’t that something all 2nd wifes ask themselves sometimes? Was she prettier when she was younger? I muse, was she skinnier? Was living with Rocksey what turned into The Witch? Was she once his Princess to his Knight in Shining Armour? I cannot see it, no matter how hard I try, probably best to just imagine her casting a spell on him and then forgetting to keep topping it up. Must remember to never run out of credit  I remind myself gazing now at the wedding ring on Rockseys finger – the wedding ring I put there 2 years ago.

The Court Usher calls their names. I go to stand up and then realise I am the 2nd Mrs Rockstar and therefore not needed. The Witch continues to use Rockseys name – thats another thing that bugs me – but not as much as it bugs her to know that I too now have the same name.

Good luck honey – I brush my lips against his cheek – a defiant act which I know will start her blood boiling. Go get ’em Chilli – I say to the lawyer.

5 minutes later, they are back in the room. Come on Rocksey bundles me off and out, sucking in great breaths of fresh air standing on the court house steps. I take it there is not good news, no one can offer good news in less than 5 minutes surely?

The Judge, it seems, said he could not make a decision on the house price today and the case has been adjourned. The only reason I surmise would be that he had a round of golf booked for 11am (or a timely visit to get his bottom spanked at the local whorehouse) and making a decision would take longer than 5 minutes.

‘Bye baby’, The Witch zooms off on her broomstick before I can turn myself into a black cat and attach myself to her face.

Chilli catches up with us with Fatty lumbering up behind. We go to say goodbye, be in touch soon etc etc before we head off homebound and I catch Fatty turn to Chilli and say ‘ Hey, do you fancy an icecream?’. Despite myself I smile as I think of the damage Chilli can do in one fiery moment – best make that a strawberry one – I say and turn back to Rocksey – come on honey I say I need a hot shower.

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