Christmas

It would start at midday on the last day of term.  She would go to the pub with her colleagues, and in the afternoon, hole herself up in her office and continue drinking.  Then there was the after-hours end-of-term party and finally she would roll home drunk as a skunk.  At some point in the evening she’d run out of the house and run around the close shouting and screaming,  The neighbours knew this was “normal” and ignored it.

Christmas morning she’d start cooking at about 10.30, and open the Sherry bottle.  From then on it was pure chance whether the dinner got cooked, burned or thrown around the house in a drunken strop.  When the sherry ran out she’d start on the home-made wine.  This had been concocted from one of those kits that were sold at Boots during the 1970’s.  I think you were supposed to let it ferment for three months.  It rarely got past three weeks.  If she could afford Gin, that was bad, very bad.  Occasionally If she got drunk quickly and fell asleep, that was a good result.

It wasn’t just at Christmas that this happened, she’d drink every other day.  One day drunk, one day sober.  God only knows why Dad didn’t kill her, I know I would have done.

Merry Christmas.

~ by @mmonyte on December 23, 2008.