7
down within a month and stripped the guts out of the place and sold everything off for scrap, made a fortune, fuckin con artist. Left the council’s heads spinning. Nothing up that way only poverty looking up misery’s arsehole. I had my eye on a little spot of land years ago, but I’ll be fucked, I’ll be fucked. Fucked if I’m going back up that way no more. And now the old feller in the ground, well that’s me and St. Mary’s done and done.
So yes, what I was sayin before I got all tangled up in the other bit about the funeral and the like, the brother and his dirty drunken ways, I nearly almost got myself in a bit of bother about a week or so after that. I s’pose I took to the juice a bit harder than normal. Father dead and in the ground and all that stuff unsaid and unsung, having to just put up with the way things are and the way things were. Wishing family meant something else, you know, how you gets down on yourself. Thinking about little afternoons when you were a youngster. Fuck it all, it got to be a bit much even for me. I took to the drink pretty hard. I never called the woman first nor last either. I just drank and listened to me records and worked through some shit. I drank myself sober, soon enough. I’m right famous for that. So yeah, I come around eventually, and I got the call to come on board a freighter that was due in three of four days time. They wanted me in the kitchen. Not a bad old racket, cooking. I does that a bit. So I knew anyhow I’d have to come off the booze and straighten out before I left. The money’s too good, you know, to be throwing it away on a jag. So I settles down and just ends up sipping on a few beer here and there so I don’t get sick and I cleans up the little apartment.