The Bottle

Yes

Starting drinking again on Saturday afternoon felt like a door-opening, light-flooding, release back into the word of sensual sociability. Bumped into Erica and her fiancé in town and went for a drink with them. They were going to his cousin's wedding later. "A pikey wedding on St Paddy's day. How pikey can you get?" she said, deliberately needling her fiancé, who doesn't like the word "pikey". He calls himself a "traveller".

In another pub I was beckoned over by New Business Colleague. Girlfriend was looking a bit nice with her new hairdo. Straightened it, dyed it blonde, tapered it into the nape of her neck. She had on a sea-blue fake satin top unbuttoned to just above her tits. Chatting and laughing. I wish it could be like this all the time. He needs a woman to keep him in order him and to make his life better, then dislikes himself for that. "I think I can make him a better man," she says, while he's in the loo.

I casually enquire how long they've been out, in order to monitor his drinking. He is the worst drinker I have met in a long time, alcohol unleashing a rain of aggression and self-pity. As they order the third bottle of wine, I bid them farewell. He'll turn now. What are you doing with him? Come round to mine and I'll show you my Wilton Felder LPs. But that'll have to stay where it is for the time being, because he might get a little bit cross.

I arrived back to Kirsty's and had to pretend to be sober. I defrosted the girls' tea, a pile of packaged carbohydrate, while watching Ireland v England. A set table, the rugby, washing on the line, one daughter drawing, another reading, another on the computer. The stillness is soporific and I slope into a Dad-doze on the settee.

Yesterday afternoon Kirsty came home from her weekend away, bringing her boyfriend with her. He manages his situation well, asking them questions but not being ingratiating. Boyfriend goes home and we all go out for Mothers' Day to a cheap Italian restaurant. Waitresses in those gorgeous tight black skirts with the zip on the outside at the back. We finish off with some delicious velvety-bitter Amaro, a bottle of which I must procure for myself.

New Business Colleague texts to say he's been arrested for assault. "All sorted, but don't mention it to Girlfriend."

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