10 August 2002 Meeting A Drunk My last fare of the day was to go to an address, pick someone up, take them to an off-licence and then take them home again. I recognised the address - I've picked some drunks up from there before. This time it was a woman who came out. It's hard to take a guess at her age, but I'd say she's over 40; her face was haggard, really haggard. Deep lines etched across grey skin and dull eyes - dead eyes. She shuffled down the path from her flat to the car, wearing cheap carpet slippers and the sort of clothes most of us would save for cleaning the yard in. She hardly had the energy to walk and she was stick thin. Alcohol rots your stomach - literally. When you're drinking that much you don't want food and when you sober up you can't keep food down. I drove her to the off-sales and she went in. Five minutes later she came back to the car, with a shop assistant in tow. This woman had bought six of the biggest bottles of cheap cider I've ever seen - there must have been about three litres at least in each bottle and she was so slight she couldn't manage to carry them herself. I took her back up to her flat. She was barely able to get out of the car, not because she had been drinking, but because she was so weak. I took the bottles of drink up to the door of her flat for her and by now she's probably drunk herself damned near into oblivion. Some life, huh?
| |
| Stale | Fresh |
�
Cast List
� |
