Fools’ Paradise

Have I anything to blog? I’m largely involved with living with John who leaves late and comes back very late. He’s most equable with me, though, wanting black thread for two buttons that were loose and that he undid the thread of, querulous I didn’t have the required black to sew them back on as if it’s a fault his convenience should not be met as it arises and that the fault is mine for not having anticipated its arising. “I’ve never had black thread.” I dug out another jacket for him to wear that suited the occasion better of offloading stolen goods in a Hammersmith pub, one of several.

Otherwise, “Are we living in a fool’s paradise?” because I’m relaxed and so’s he though with reason to be stressed, all things considered, by feeding his habit he’s weaning himself off, he says, increasing the risk of bringing himself to the attention of the authorities which could easily affect me too.

Yvann’s not made an appearance after his visit to Teddington police station and could be in custody since he has another charge over his head and, while neither amounts to much, both taken together amount to something substantial.

The book seems to be in hand.

While cooking a main meal for me and John late, I was buzzed. The voice was familiar but… “Who are you?” “Yvann.” He gave no explanation where he’d been or what had happened. He’d no food and no money. This was plausible. I couldn’t think of any food I had to give him apart from what I was cooking and could hardly ask him to stay with John’s imminent return. I just wanted rid of him. He just wanted money for him and his friend – a dent in the plausibility there. All I thought I had was £20. Did he have a £10 note? Of course not.

It was afterwards I got angry at myself for being taken advantage of. He’s now extracted £44.95 without paying back a sou. This anger recurred and apparently I was sighing a lot because John was going to go down and punch the lights out of Yvann because what affected me affected him. “You keep a low profile,” I adjured. He says he doesn’t know what I’m talking about, the words I use, like ‘exigency’. His was to have sex because I’d come two nights running and he hadn’t. He has to be ahead. He’d said something to the effect he was still well ahead from past accumulation, if on viagra, in the light of my two nights without viagra. He took sexual advantage of my not being quite up to it, because of Yvann, saying afterwards it was his turn that night. I doubted it had been.

“We’re doomed,” I said, “what with your addictions to heroin and alcohol.” Free from the restraints of prison he binged. “You’re my biggest addiction,” he said. Okay; I‘m doomed.

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About johnbrucecairns

I'm a retired history teacher who's written for most of his life with a book readied for publication.
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