A Boozy Do

This little blog is supposed to be about family life, which for the past few weeks, I've not had an awful lot of.

The Lady went away with the two babies for a week or so. She often does this when I have a play in its final weeks of rehearsal. It saves her the bother of living with someone who wakes up in the middle of the night bellowing stage directions and sweating, of having to do that monotonous supportive-spouse thing or of having to go to the theatre where it's hot, dark and boring. *

When The Lady goes away I tend to revert back to the behaviour I exhibited as a single bloke.**

It's quite crazy really, I usually live the life of average family guy. My social life now consists of four pints drunk once a week in my local. I participate in the same old conversations with my best friend, my co-writer and a business partner. These are all unfortunately the same person.

We continually repeat ourselves, but don't point this out to each other as we enjoy the ritual. Often, I will stop him in the middle of a story to remind him that he has missed a bit. This doesn't seem odd to either of us. If we have company, we will jointly recount stories - swapping over the role of first person effortlessly. At these times the stories are always about how wild we were before we became fathers. We are, I fear, becoming old farts.

But when The Lady goes away, people don't stop calling me. Somebody must send up a flare or something, or perhaps there's an announcement on local radio: "Jake Ryan who was missing, presumed familied away, was tonight let out on reprieve for a few days. All those who would like to buy him beer should call his mobile now. You should, however, be warned that he will smoke all your fags because he has now 'given up'."

I always intend to have a quiet few nights in but as soon as I get snuggled on the couch up with a mug of tea, intending to watch a japanese film, the phone rings as I take my first sip.

"I can't leave you sitting in by yourself, I'll be along in a taxi in five minutes - we'll have a few." This without doubt means many. I jump at the chance - anything to avoid watching a three hour long, black and white japanese film. This cycle is repeated night after night for a full week. The film gradually becoming a hollow excuse for continual debauchery.

Hangovers are supposed to get worse as you get older - but the ones I used to get in my mid-twenties were really bloody awful. They would be an unrelenting eight-hour roller-coaster of vomiting, headache, paranoia and dry heaves, all accompanied by an deepening sense of mortality and a good slug of existentialist angst.

These days its more like I become a pensioner for a while. I feel fuzzy headed and full of ache. I need frequent naps and milky drinks. Now they last for about a week. I expect they will get longer and longer until I finally do become a pensioner and just stay that way.

The Lady and the babies came back last week expecting a nice bit family time over the half term break. Unfortunately, I totally forgot that I was running a performance project all week. This messed up all the schedules timetables and routines that she holds dear. It caused all sorts of problems. She had to take Ani to have her jabs by herself. A planned family day out was ruined. Tempers were tested, words were spoken.

I forgot to cancel my driving lesson as well.

What came over me?

How could I forget about a week-long project?

Oh, that's right...

... I was quite hungover.



* Besides, there's something a bit uncool, maybe a bit amateur about having all your family and friends turn up to a show when you're thirty-three. It takes you straight back to that awful moment after a school play where you emerge front-of-house to wallow in a puddle of parental approval. Even at the time it felt a bit awkward, quite a shallow experience - particularly as my dad had already pissed off down the pub.


** I say single - in fact as a desperate serial monogamist, the longest I have ever been without a girlfriend since I was nineteen is three weeks. Rubbish I know. I can't help it.
I am actually referring to the times when I had my own place and several friends who were over the age of two.