oh my god. How did you ever write that? I don't think I could have done that.
Excellent writing, an inspired freewrite, the best kind.
Are they escaping? Has he thrown them all out? Did they kill him that he is letting them go out?
Or is this the long form, not the abridged version, and they've made this journey before, always coming back because they have nowhere else to go? Really great read. Deirdy is BACK.
Aw thanks sweetie. I'm so glad you enjoyed it.
Enjoy is not the quite word. Sat there horrified knowing what was coming, or thinking I did, and it just got ever more horrible. My own home was a tiny bit like that, the kids tensing up when Dad got home because you never knew which Dad would walk in. These kids knew which Dad, but not whether it would be the bad dad or the even worse Dad. Mom though, they could at least count on Mom not hurting them, they could count on her not protecting them and would instead have to protect her. And what is a fry-up? The pan, or the food?
A fry-up is bacon, egg, sausage and sometimes some black and white pudding, stuff you'd likely see in any (meat-eater's) fridge in Ireland.
Life with 2 drunks was unpredictable, you never knew when fists or furniture were going to fly. But give them their due, though they battered each other they rarely raised a hand to one of us.
What?! This is a true story? Explains why you could freewrite so vividly.
Where did you all go on the nights you left?
Sometimes she'd sneak us into some pub, a few times we went to a refuge, an odd time we'd go to her mother's place, but often we'd just wander the streets until she thought he'd be asleep and then we'd go back home.
Was there ever harmony, fun? It's unbearable so far .
Not that I remember, but surely there must have been some. Perhaps we tend only to be able to recall the bad times because they make more of an impression.