Tag Archives: alcoholic

2045. Habitual drinking

It was nine in the morning and Roland worked out that it was only eight hours before he could have a drink. He never drank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was ten in the morning and Roland worked out that it was only seven hours before he could have a drink. He never drank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was eleven in the morning and Roland worked out that it was only six hours before he could have a drink. He never drank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was mid – midday – eleven o’clock? – midday and Roland worked out that it was only a few hours before he could have a drink. He never drank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was sometime in the afternoon and Roland worked out that it was only a short few hours before he could have a dwink. He never dwank before five ‘clock. It was habitual. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

It was now five in the afternoon – apparently – and when he went to get a bottle out of the cabinet there was none there. His wife had took it. She was an alohol… alohole… drunk. He wluld have to get the wine out from umder the bed. He kept it hidden there to stop his alcoholic wife from scoffing it all down.

It was now six firty in the early evening and his wife was on the phone trying to order takeaway.  “Just give us the zame as yesterday. And do you serve alcol? You don’t? Well it looks like I’m in for a dry evening.”

1179. The clink of bottles

Nora heard the clink of bottles hitting each other as her husband walked up the drive having done the grocery shopping. He would first go into the garage before coming into the house, and then when the grocery bags were emptied there wasn’t a bottle in sight.

Nora’s husband had a room at the back of the garage where he kept his model railway. He would spend hours there. He could afford the time once he had retired. Occasionally he would come into the house to use the bathroom, smelling of the breath-disguising odour of peppermint.

He’d always had trouble with drink but now he’d “dried out”. He had given up by sheer will-power, he told everyone. “Just said NO and that was it.” No one other than Nora heard the clink of bottles on the driveway.

In a strange way Nora didn’t mind. The more her husband stayed out of the house the better. That way she could get stuck into her own stash of liquor hidden behind the pots at the back of the kitchen cupboard.