Chapter Ten
One Whisky Is One Too Many
It takes a special type of person to drink whisky, angry folk are not them.
That night I went home and handed the Bag Lady her takeaway. She had a cold and was not in good trim.
I told the Bag Lady that chilli was good for a cold. She opened the bag with an unimpressed look and followed me into the kitchen.
“Your Mavis turned up,” she said. The Bag Lady always said “your” when my friends cheesed her off.
I sat at the table and looked at my unopened Jaipuri.
“She wouldn’t leave,” said the Bag Lady, “wanted more whisky.”
“And you gave it to her?” I said.
“I gave her a hot chocolate.”
I sighed. The Bag Lady’s hot chocolates were as alcoholic as a cocktail and had knocked the legs off me more than once.
“She was upset,” said the Bag Lady. “And
