26/7

I've been busy at work so haven't had a chance to blog for awhile. I use it for cathartic reasons anyhow. As I can't afford a psychiatrist, it has to do.
My boss was unhappy with me the other day, saying I've only had my uniform for a few weeks but it stinks of beer and fags. For some reason unknown to me I told him I'd been sleeping in it as well. He's got a point, I do stink. Well since, I've had a shave and at least got clean, washed and that, and that includes my clothes.
I remember when I used to wear fine suits with silk ties. My wife loved cravats. She always bought me them. They were her weakness. I could always seduce her with them on. She would see me wearing it, after work some day, in the boudoir, and would pounce. I merely complied, her forgetting the many atrocities I'd committed earlier in the week (or more often, day) and would twindle her fingers through my hair. Well I never loved an item more than a cravat. Apart from a beer.
As soon as it was over she seemed to go back to being the dreary bitch she mostly was. And it was always alcohol-related. I could taste the whiskey on your mouth. Well you weren't complaining when you were shoving your tongue down me neck!
These incidents become more and more rare, and as I felt much resentment to me wife, I didn't wear the cravats as much. The charm of them vanished for her too, though. She was mostly just an austere, joyless woman. Or at least that's how I pictured her.
Well I remember there was a time when she wasn't coming home much, because she was always away on 'courses' and 'meetings' and such. I was left in charge of Jenny, although she had had the foresight to get in a childminder, whom seemed to come and go when she pleased. I think her name was Jill, but I never was sure.
She wasn't there much in the evenings, and I was alone getting drunk with Jenny upstairs in bed. I left the house. Not very good fathering I know. I had on my nicest cravat, claret in colour. I thought I'd work the pubs to see if the cravat's powers of seduction was ubiquitous.
The Bull was a dingy place, but the soft lights gave it a sultry ambiance. It was like a parlour in Amsterdam. I thought, this is my best chance. I sort of circled the ladies like a vulture. To be honest, my head was so watery with spirits I could have been doing anything, and probably was. Well it was a quiet night, and some of the blokes didn't seem enamoured with my presence. I tried playing with my cravat infront of the ladies, in a desperate attempt to show myself off as a gentleman. And an ostentatious one at that.
Well the barman spat You gonna buy a drink? I asked a lady I had gravitated towards what she fancied drinking. Oh no you don't. She was here with her husband who was in the lav. I said he's not showing her due attention and preceded to buy her a whiskey and coke. The bar guy shifted his eyes, which were full of subtle humour, to some of the other blokes. He finished wiping a beer glass and got me my drinks. Well I started talking to this dame in my haze, about things which I forget now. She was smiling and reciprocating. Hell I even thought she started acting coquettish. Well, the picture of her perfect smiling face was shattered as a fist clattered my vision. I think I must have fallen. There was laughter. The guy was a menace. A big black giant, with raging testosterone in the eyes, standing in a boxers gait. That blow could have knocked me out. I stuttered. He asked me to leave. I said I will, but could I at least finish me drink? He asked me to leave. The barman asked me to leave. Somewhere inside of me incandescent fury blazed for a moment - I fuckingwell paid for that drink, I'm going to fuckingwell drink it! - well it unsettled them all a fair bit. Whilst they were rattled, and even the big man was taken aback abit, I grabbed me beer and took it round the otherside of the bar, sat alone, with me back to them, and drunk. Well I savored that beer, because with each gulp I got more confidence. Once finished, I took it back over to the bar, put it down, looked all around at the characters with madness in me eyes and left promptly. Well the bastard had got me quite good. Cut my top lip and me nostrils flared with dry blood. I got home, went back to the living room, drunk a fifth of whiskey and collapsed. The nanny found me the next morning. She was acting all concerned and exasperated, wanting to know what happened. Well I didn't say much in the way of anything and sauntered up to me room.