The Day That Our Dad Came Home Sober

 

 

The day that our Dad came home sober

The dog barked as he came through the door

Cos our Killer was no good with strangers

Or people he’d not met before

 

Our Dad, not drunk, - didn’t seem like our Dad

He’d lost that gormless grin

And his eyes didn’t have that glazed-over look

So it just didn’t look like him

 

“Sid. You’re home early.” Said our Mam

“I wasn’t expecting you yet”

He said “Aye Flo, I thought I’d surprise you”

Which he did, cos our Mam’s name was Bet

 

Then with a straight-back he walked into the room

Without staggering or falling around

And he made it, in one piece right up to his chair

Without falling or hitting the ground

 

I thought, who is this man, who looks just like our Dad

But has eyes that are focused and clear

And can walk and talk without looking the fool

And isn’t tanked up full of beer

 

He looked round, surveying his family

As we shivered and shook from the cold

All sat about on old milk crates  

And a chaise longue covered in mould

 

The drawer of a cupboard doubled up as a cot

Where our Baby-Trevor lay

Swaddled up tight, in a hessian sack

On a mattress of freshly mown hay

 

Mam took out the family jam-butty

Before biting it, and passing it on

By the time that it got to mi Father

All but the end-bits were gone

 

Dad said “Flo I’ve just had an epiphany”

“I can’t live a life of regret”

“I’ve decided to pack in my drinking”

Which was odd, cos our Mam’s name was Bet

 

He said “you can’t bring up kids on jam-butties”

“I’ll nip out to buy veggies and fruit”

Then he went, and was gone for four hours

And came back…. As pissed as a newt