2:00 a.m.
I went to see the auld maw today. My brother was there. So there's the four of us in the once council house. Me and Silvest and the auld maw and the auntie Kathy. My brother Silvest is now about 72 and he's started doing the caring thing with his auld maw. And when he leaves, the auld maw surmises that he is going to see his girlfriend/carer who's having a bad time with her chist, but there is no mention of her son who is doing the long time in the jail for stabbing her nine times.
My auld maw is really getting some caring from her sister, the auntie Kathy, but my auntie Kathy is not acknowledged for this. She puts food in front of the auld maw and some biscuits and that kind of thing, the way women used to do for men. A servant. So usually she sits and says nothing, except to me. She's eighty three years old and smokes menthol cigarettes because they are the healthy ones. Anyway, she doesn't cough. The auld maw is about 92 and she spends a lot of time upstairs, so auntie Kathy can sit downstairs and smoke the menthol fags. My maw gave up fags when she was seventy and apart from the haemorrhaging lungs one time, she's been fine since.
So I say hello to Silvest, and tell him such things like my friend winning the money on the horses, and such like things. It's really nice to see him. Then he goes away. The auntie Kathy says that he's forgotten his fags and lighter, and I say that's alright. I get out the door and run after him. I know that everyone will think this is amazing. The auld maw and the auntie Kathy have never ever run anywhere. Silvest is like John Wayne, so he's not running anywhere either.
I'm kind of amazed as well, as I run across the grass and get him to turn round and hand him the fags and the lighter.
I'm so fond of him . He's my brother Silvest, row of forty medals on his chest, big chest. The soul of compassion. It's like the joys of being working class.
7 comments:
I thought you were going to say you picked up the fags and ran off with them.
A lot of chests in this post. If they're not getting medals pinned on them, they're getting knives in them. I suppose it balances up.
The non-deifheid we visited last week lives next to the jail where her brother who used to bash her is banged up, though not for bashing her. Doesn't compare with your knifing sibling of course. I expect the bourgeoisie made him do it.
Albert? I thought they only put Aboriginals in jail where you are. Hotboy
You're assuming my friend couldn't be aboriginal.
You're right of course.
Albert? It's not your fault you don't know any Aboriginals. I found them really scary when I was there. Once a South Efrican told me that the trouble with South Efrica was that they didn't kill all the blacks when they had the chance. Of course, he moved to downunderland, so the Aboriginals might get it in the collective neck ... well, deided. What about the last one in Tasmania? Don't they still have his skeleton in the British Museum. Still, surf's probably up! Hotboy p.s. I'm thinking of saving up to get the evil bourgeois killed.But that's just about everyone I know.
Albert? I saw hardly any Aboriginals in Perth which I thought was bit suspicious!! The Brits usually killed everyone everywhere. Didn't they wipe out the original people in the Caribbean? I think they did! The South Efrican who said that about the black people was a relative of mine. Dearie me! Hotboy
Sath Efrica would be glad he left, but they're still funged, like the rest of Efrica. It's all the English bourgeoisie's fault.
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