MY CAR IS
23 rd December 2018. Carl
tells me that Mischa's wife, Sally, died about a week ago. The funeral
is 4 th January. More light is shed on Mischa's death. It appears that
alcohol was involved in both their deaths. The info that I have been
given is so sad.
22 nd December 2017.
Chloe has kindly sent me the picture of Mischa at right above (together
with others of the children when young) She is so kind !
It must have been taken shortly before he died. He does look so old. He reminds me of my brother uterine, Ivor.
13 th March 2017. Mischa has died of a heart attack aged 62. I
have re-read this page and realised how much of my life that I have
forgotten. Shocked yet again of this forgotten entry in my diary pages
of just 12 years ago :-
Sunday, 20 February 2005 "I have just had a phone call from by dear olí son Carl, (canít keep his trap shut, as Chloe well knows, and he did tell me not to do this). Chloe had just phoned Carl to tell him that Mischa, the eldest sibling had phoned her, after talking to Janet, and he said that he was going to put out a contract on me, and that I should be scared! She KNEW that Carl would tell me, and was hoping that it would make me Ďshit scaredí. Why would he put a contract out on me? It is because I have been putting family stories on here. My versions, but all are to the best of my knowledge."
April 2017 - Will it never end ? Mischa's passing has caused memories
to be recalled & information to be circulated. There have
been a few comments relayed back to me concerning my updating of this
page. This has caused me to learn that Mischa was a right b******d in
that he thumped his wife ( and his mother) & not just while
pissed. But some comfort can be gained in the info that a
previous wife shared her favours a little ! (The biter - being bit ?)
This is an email I sent to Carl a few days ago.
It's strange how a painful event can teach us the truth about the people around us.
Lesley was attending hospital for chemotherapy. My hypnotherapy practice had failed. I decided that we could not afford the car. Lesley would travel to the hospital through the patient transport system.
One day we were at the hospital and we were talking about how to sell the car. During the discussion Lesley said, "Why not ask Mischa if he could sell it?" As Mischa lived some four hundred miles away, the idea seemed impractical.
Amazingly, when we returned home we had a phone call from Mischa asking me if I wished to sell the car! We had a long talk and I mentioned that if I couldn't sell the car; I would have to dispose of it to the scrappie as I could not afford to run it.
Mischa decided to come up, see the car and
make an offer. He was a car mechanic working, as he told me, on expensive cars
and earning £200/week overtime. (So, why did he need to travel to
When Mischa came up, he took the car out for a road test. It was a Skoda, and at that time they did not have a good image. He drove that car as though it were a Formula One car, not an old family saloon! I thought he was going to wreck it.
After the "road test" I asked him what he thought it was worth. As he was an expert I would accept what he said. He gave it a value of £450. I said to make it £400 and he agreed.
If it had been better times and I was disposing of the car to get a new one, I expect that I would have given the car to him. But, I was unemployed with a low income and needed the cash.
Mischa said that he did not have the money at the time, but would give me eight post-dated cheques. I agreed; and he wrote out the cheques.
When he arrived back in
I had cashed only one cheque.
Later I heard that he had had no intention of paying me for the car because I had said that I was giving it to the scrappie.
I might as well add another little story to this one instead of making it the subject of another page.
After a series of incidents, I put Mischa out of the house when he was eighteen. More later.
Many years later he told me that he had had a terrible time after I put him out. He had stolen items from a local school, been caught and charged. Because he had no fixed abode, he was given a prison sentence of three months. He blamed me for this.
He did, at last, settle down with a woman who had befriended him. Mischa told me that her husband had been with a South London gang and that he had been murdered, his body cut up and dumped in a local park.Mischa later told me that it was a completely fabricated story. That he could do such a thing concerning someone who had helped him out of the gutter is incomprehensible.
When he came to our wedding Mischa confided in me.
He said, "Dad, you didn't believe me, did you? It wasn't true! I enjoy telling lies and seeing how people react. It's best to tell big lies because then you are believed. People don't believe small lies."
I was absolutely shocked. Here was my son telling me that for years he had let me believe such a grotesque lie. He must be a pathological liar. (He takes after his mother?)
The double whammy is why did he tell that he had lied? That spoils it. People are a puzzle!
Tuesday, 26February 2002. This is interesting. I often ponder whether Mischa would have been the success he is now, if I had not put him out of the house. An indication of the path he was travelling is here. You have to realise that he was 18yo Sometimes it is kind to be cruel.