Thursday 20 February 2014

Something is patently clear today: it was a mistake to think that I NEEDED a few pints to wind down after being sent home from the hospital last night. Note, “sent home” in this particular sense of the word means “went before I had to, to try and ensure that I made last orders somewhere”.

The three pints in 25 minutes followed by cans when I got home have not worked out particularly well. It’s a perfect storm of adrenalin ravaged, emotion smashing, not having drank for weeks, drinking without eating conditions that have left me feeling slightly hungover. The thing is, ideally, you’d not be at all hungover on the first day of your son’s life – for bringing him home from hospital and all that shit.

The situation has not been assisted by the very potent smell of DRUGS being smoked on the bus I have got to the hospital. The smell DOES NOT make me feel better. Drugs have never combined with alcohol for me. Well not the smokey ones anyway. I hoped to reduce the dry, sicky feeling in my mouth on the journey to the hospital. What happens is that I feel an INCREASED sense of sicky feeling in my mouth.

Also, the hospital seem to be keeping us there much longer than they strictly need to. And visitors are not suppose to lie on the bed. Do the fucking tories thinking of this when they smash the NHS to bits with the ivory towers?…sorry my metaphors are getting mixed here, I meant silver spoons – which also doesn’t make sense. [Admittedly I am writing this at some distance (time), but I am getting into character of the confused day-two father.]

Eventually a doctor comes along and bends my son all over the shop and then says he is good. She says he is very lovely in a way that is clearly a reference to how handsome I am – as she says, “He is lovely” and nothing else.

Then we take the small human we have produced back to the home where we have existed small-human-less for several years. I tell myself it will be pretty much the same. Perhaps like the day we had a new air freshener, but every day. Yes, this is what it will be like.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Two songs have become prominent in my head in the last day or so. I don’t know why either of them have done so…

One is Spirit in The Sky (Dr & The Medics version, natch) and the other is Wishing Well by Terence Trent D’Arby. Anyone have a reason why either song would jump out of the recesses of my mind in this time of joy? No. Me neither.

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