I used to love watching Succession – it was a form of pure escapism. Helicopters. Private jets. Extreme wealth. It felt like another world to me. The family at its centre are the Roys, a dysfunctional media dynasty worth billions of dollars and made up of Machiavellian schemers all clambering over one another to become top dog. I would watch from my living room sofa, as if looking into a different world. It’s certainly not something I imagined I could ever relate to. Then everything changed. My day-to-day life turned into a super low-grade version of a Succession episode – and now, it’s proving almost too much to watch.
I’m the youngest of five step-siblings, and the only child from my mum and dad’s marriage – the love child. My mum died over 20 years ago and I’ve always looked after my dad, who is now approaching 91. All of us have discussed moving him out of his big family home and into a ground-floor flat for practical reasons, which would entail selling his home. When my dad decided he actually didn’t want to move after all, everything kicked off. My older siblings started to fear that, as I’m my dad’s lasting power of attorney, I could sell my dad’s house from under his nose if he lost mental capacity. This is despite my holding this position for seven years with no complaints.
