Relax
and Drink ©
By
Michael
Casey
I
need to relax, we all need to relax, we may have a pint of Stella and as it’s a
couple of months since I did have a pint of Stella I’ll just make a mental
point to have a pint or two of Stella, then I’ll go dry for 4 months . I’m not
much of a drinker at all, 12 to 24 pints in a year. Please don’t laugh at me,
I’m on the Pioneer side of drinking as opposed to the alcoholic side. It used
to be the case in Ireland that ½ the population did not drink at all then the
other half made up for it.
Our
lodgers down the years were of the drinking side, Barney could barely stand as
he stood by the back door, his rent money in hand, never missed. He enjoyed a
drink or three, one Christmas he fell against his cooker and burnt all his
back. My dad took him to hospital in Mr Morgan’s old Humber, Mr Morgan was
drunk too, it was Christmas Eve after all. Mr Morgan was huge, on the scale of
Humpty Dumpty, his belly brushed against the steering wheel, he was a taxi
driver, lived a few doors up the road from our house. How they got there alive
we’ll never know, I must have been 6 at the time. Dad was offered a lift back
but he decided to walk. Decades later Barney lost a finger in an industrial
accident, he got 5000 in compensation.
He pissed it up the wall but at least Piccaso would have been impressed
by his artwork. Barney love a fag too, lots of them. All this explains how the
average working man lived between the 60s and 90s, the bedsit land life. Barney
lived till he was 83, my dad and my sister went to visit him and gave him a
Birthday card, the next day he died. Such is life, his body went back home to
Ireland, his bones could relax in the turf of home.
We
all have ways of relaxing, sex, drugs, and rock and roll, or reading the Daily
Telegraph. Whatever takes the pain/stress away then do it, but don’t frighten
ladies and horses in the street, you could even vote Liberal, but maybe I’m
stretching things a bit too far. We may paint, we may watch Glee or SUITS on
tv, it takes us away from our daily lives , we are transported somewhere else.
Sir Edward Heath used to sail, when its blowing up a gale you don’t think about
petty ignorant disputes in Parlaiment, you are too busy trying to stay alive.
Staying Alive makes me think of disco, do they have a disco in Parliament?
Where all sorts can get up to all sorts, and end up in handcuffs, but that
sounds too much like private lives. So
I’ll just finish with what Frankie said “ Relax, don’t do it…..”
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