Enoughs Enough

These last Seven days have been absolute Shite wi’ a Capital Jobby and, as effin’ usual, it’s aw been self inflicted. Ah have’ny woken up this week on any day knowin’ what day it was- this is Sunday and ah only knew that because Chrissie B told me that today. She came oot today fae the Toon [ Auld Reekie] wi’ Douglas because she’d been worried about the fact that ah wasny answerin’ the phone and hadny been on the auld Pusbook. She’s no’ real and ah can honestly say withoot her, Davy and Linda ah’d be in jile or sittin’ wi’ a wee cup and an even wee’r Dug at some city centre shop windie like a beggar. Anyway it was nice tae see a cheery face after Four days of isolation and she bought me a steak pie and a big Fuck off Broccoli[ or a Buck off Froccoli, if ye’ve had a few- which ah’ve no’ and we wished each other merry Christmas wi’ that daft elbow touchin’ carry on. The love theme fae Cinema Paradiso’s just come on the Spotify- a beautiful song, might be the blind boy]. Anyway that was the beginnin’ of a day ah was just dreadin’. Ah had nae baccy, which wisny too bad because the need for a roll up wid’ve got me oot tae the nearby shop at some point, no matter how vile the weather or how agonisin’ and frustratin’ it is gettin’ up they effin’ stairs. That is ma fault, though, due to over Forty years of abusin’ ma body wi ‘Tobacco, Marijuana, Alcohol and just aboot every pill and powder under the Sun. Ah was low on milk, as well, which wisny too important as ah had plenty of Coffee and broon sugar. The steak pie will be nice- Tuesday ,ah think was ma last proper meal and it was steak pie and Broccoli, too,. Noo that ah remember, it was Wednesday wnen ah had the steak pie. Tuesday was the night the Admiral came down and we got blootered on the Whisky – a full bottle of Old Pulteney, Half a bottle of Tamnavulin and at least Two Callum Halfs were left of the Uigeadail- and Two Callum halfs are aboot Four Scud Halfs.  Ah don’t know whether that makes me a soup drinker or Callum’s just a greedy big Shite when it comes tae the Whisky. Ah opened a bottle of nice Rioja that Chris got me for a birthday present and ah spilled half of it. Ah got through a rake of Grass in a night that wid normally take me Three days tae smoke.  Ah remember the Admiral leavin at Three in the mornin’ in nae fit state tae drive. He lives in Pumphy and it takes Five minutes to step in tae the car at his hoose and be at ma flat, so he managed it easily enough. Ah got tae ma bed at half Seven in the mornin’. Ah got up aboot Two in the afternoon, ah had a bruise on my eye a cut on ma heid a fuck off bruise on ma knee and another wee cut right on ma crown at the top of ma heid- ah hadny a scooby how they got there. Ah’d obviously taken a heider and there were bottles and presents in ma flightpath but ah had nae recollection of it. Ah think takin’ ma Amitryptilenes and Fluoxetines and a couple of Vally’s didny really help. The last time ah was that pished was last New Year when ah hadny long started the Amatrampolines- and ah got mingin’ drunk, couldny remember a thing and ah still canny. Ah think ah’ve inherited auld Jinky’s binge gene. Ma mother used tae tell us stories aboot his binges- sometimes he’d be missin’ for a week at a time gettin’ pissed wi’ his auld Navy pals. At one time the silly auld Cunt was the youngest officer in the Navy- he was roughly  the same age as’ That abdicatin’ Cunt’ as ma mother called Edward the whatever who married O.J Simpsons Granny[ maybe ah dreamt that- or is it ‘Dreamed’?] and they were on the same ship as youngsters. Also he was, at one time, on the same ship as one of the boys who didny make the final Five on the ill fated Scott of the Antarctic expedition. He could’ve done well in the Navy but the drink effed him and he was Horsed oot. He still got his Navy pension, though, which made us aw think whatever the reason was, it couldny have been too bad. Auld Bunty said that he tried desperately tae get back in when the war started in Nineteen Thirty Nine but he never did. He became a Naval clerk and through his job she got to  meet a few Army, navy and Air forcey boys who were top brass at the time and she went along wi’ him[ she was an awfy bonnie lassie and got him extra drink because she said she was a wee charmer- she wasny a big charmer, that’s for sure. Anyway that’s auld Jinks- ah wish ah’d known him alot longer. On one occasion[ which ah canny remember] Ah’d  gone doon wi ma mother for a visit when ah was aboot Five or Six- Linda knows him better because that’s where she went wi’ her pals tae drink when they were’ny quite auld enough tae drink- as ah was sayin’  ah  visited him in Broxburn[ who sadly got knocked oot of the Scottish cup last week] wi’ ma mother and when ah got inside the hoose he said ‘Sit dowwn boy’- will carry on when Tin Tin finishes, ah loved the film. Right, that’s Two Tins just finished- ah love the Captain Haddock character, really funny and ah just thought the film was pure Steven Spielberg genius. Anyway ma Grand dad[ auld Jinks] said ‘sit down boy’ in his posh [tae me] accent and ah, accordin’ tae auld Bunt, replied wi’  ‘Ma names no’ boy, it’s Colin’. She said, that was that and he took tae me immediately. she had a habit of embellishin’ a story, though, did auld Bunt,  so there’s probably a grain of truth in the story and mare embellishment than John Steinbeck or Emile Zola pit the gither. Ah remember Chris tellin’ me aboot the time she berated auld Jinky for not tellin’ her who John Steinbeck was when she was a young girl/woman and discovered him via Chris, her Daughter, Forty years after she felt he should’ve. Jinks was deid by that time, so she didny berate him face tae face, so he wisny givin’ a Fuck what she said. Ah got the same when ah gave her ‘Brave New World’- she started on aboot how damning[ might’ve splet that wrong] it was that it was her youngest girl and her youngest son who had given these books instead of him. Anyway, that’s enough of ma Grand dad Jenkinson [auld Jinks] for the time bein’… Ah’d got as far as Wednesday wi’ ma Shite week. As ah said earlier ah got up aboot Two, no’ hung over, as such, but thinkin ‘What a Fuckin Tool’. If they CIS folk had found me they’d straight away think ‘He’s been thrown around like a rag Doll’ – well, they’d think that if ah was lyin’ in the middle of the  flair, deid, but ah managed tae get tae ma bed and it was only when ah woke that ah saw the carnage and destruction in the livin’ room from the night before. It wisny actually too bad -Wilfrid and Rupert widny’ve got a jolly nice poem oot of it,  but there was good enough evidence tae suggest that ah’d been a greedy Bastard  wi the drink and fell heid first in the Christmas Tree and a couple of bottles that were next tae the Tree. Ah was so ashamed of masel ah had a cuppy Tea, a Rastafarian old Holburn, took ma Two Amatrampolines and ma Two Fluoxetines and a couple of special sweeties which help me sleep and ah went back tae ma bed aboot Four for a wee nap and didny wake till, after Two on Christmas Eve. Again ah did the same as the previous day and ate a wee box of Shortbread. Didny cook anything. Ah went tae bed aboot  Eight pm because ah’d got up at Five pm and had some Crisps before goin’ tae bed. Ah think that takes me into Christmas day. Ah rememberin’ seein’ a bit of Pretty Shitty Gang Bang but  ah canny remember Truly Scrumptious carryin’ on like that, so ah’ must be confusin’ it wi’ another film – Maybe the one wi’ the flyin’ Car and the guy who sounded like a  Dutch porn star. Ah saw a bit of Spartacus, as well, the last hour or so, from the time he was let down by Herbert Lom and the Pirates tae the end bit where Jean Simmons held up their wee free baby. Ah dinny mean wee free as in that loony branch of the Church[ things were Shite enough back then withoot they effin’ dafties] . Ah also watched ‘Have I got Thirty years of News for you’ and enjoyed that. That took me up to Davy comin’ tae ma door at half one on Sunday understandably slightly pissed off at ma no show on Christmas Eve and Christmas day- ah was fucked withooot the phone but wid’ve just hidden out of sight and sound in ma bed if the phone was workin’- runnin’ away fae responsibility and events because, ah take the easy way oot and run away instead of facin’ up tae things  Ah just didny want tae risk gettin’ the woevid. As it is ma state of health is such that if ah was a Sheep Dug the Farmer wid’ve shot me by noo. Anyway what ah thought was goin’ tae be a Shite day ended up awrite= the Admiral came doon fae Pumphy[ Sober], wi’ some Baccy and ships Biscuits and ah’m as comfortably numb at the moment as the Nolan Sisters were wi’ their famous song. maybe gettin’ mixed up there wi’  ‘I’m in the mood for Acid’. Anyway, that’s Half Two in the morning – Two Twenty Seven, to be precise, and there is a lovely, almost full moon ootside high up tae mare West than North West, in the Sky. Ah hope to see it, ah wid think, at exactly the same time next Month, but ah’m nae Carl Sagan, so ah might be wrong. I’ts 3.12 am and ah canny see the Moon oot ma West facin’ Livin’ room windie unless ah turn away fae the Keyboard and strain ma neck that much just tryin’ tae see a wee bit of it, that it isny quite worth the strain or effort. It’s goin’ North, ah think. Anyway, more tomorrow – There will be the Shittin’ forecast, for the Dug walker who canny resist daein an ootside Jobby- dinny get yer hopes up, though, we’re in for a cauld snap. There’s a shit film on the Horror Channel so ah’m off tae bed. Ah’m aimin’ for a Thousand words a day and that’s nearly Two. Humani ta tanka o wachi.

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