It was payday eve, and emptiness echoed around my wallet. Christmas punched out my savings, and the burglars pinched my pocket money. “Come to the pub,” Kate said, “my treat.”
I joined Graham, Becky and Luca at the end of the bar. When my meagre funds expired, Graham subbed me. A true gentleman. Luca told us a story about a time he was high on drugs, and paranoia set in. In the middle of the night, he decided he had to hide his drugs in his neighbour’s garden. Underground. So he took a spade, and dug holes all over the lawn. Hundreds of holes, he said. His neighbour looked out of the window in the morning, and saw him there, covered in mud head to toe. They called the police. Luca tried to blame it on his dog. Luca doesn’t own a dog. £700 fine, and community service.
Lewis called to talk about Laika, the gift I gave him for Christmas. He really enjoyed it, he said, even though it was sad – maybe because it was sad. He called to thank me for it. We chatted a little about the old times. Which film, we wondered, contained the phrase, “P-A-R-T-Why? Because I gotta!” (answer here) We didn’t know, but it was nice to talk it over anyway.
My three-pint rule didn’t last. Hmmmm