Mom, calling upstairs – “Hayley!?”
Me – “What?!”
Mom – “Do you want a glass of wine?!”
Me – “No, ta!”
Sound of the front door opening and then closing.
Me – “…Did she just leave the house because I said I didn’t want wine?”
Tag Archives: Wine
Our Mother
Mother, I’m Drunk
This is a post to chronicle last Saturday evening when I got drunk with my Mom and she watched the last two episodes of The Musketeers on Netflix, whilst Kieran looked on in equal parts bemusement and sober horror. I had to decode these drunken conversations from the notes I use to record everything. It was tough going:
Man on TV, looking out into the distance – “Open the gate! The Spanish are here!”
Mom – “Really!? How does he know they’re Spanish from that distance!? They could have been anybody!”
Later in the evening, after the first bottle of wine:
Me – “Can I be a musketeer?”
Mom – “Of course.”
Me – Where is my sword?”
Mom, realising it would be a bad idea for me to have a sword – “… Being sharpened.”
Me – “Where is my gun?”
Mom, realising a gun was no better – “We need a license.”
Me – “Where is my armour?”
Mom, thinking a musketeer is a terrible occupation for me – “At the workshop.”
Me – “Do I have anything to be a musketeer right now!?”
Mom – “You have the hair?”
Into the second bottle:
Me – “Ah shit, I just dropped red wine all down myself…. Luckily it’s too late in the day for me to care.
During an emotional scene where the Captain happily faces his impending death with all guns blazing:
Mom – “This is ridiculous…”
Me – “What is? That he’s going to die? Are you crying!?”
Mom – “Because I’m so angry! It makes no sense! LEAVE HIM ALONE AND LET HIM LIVE!”
Me – “You know how TV works mother! He has to die!”
Mom – “NO HE DOESN’T!”
Me – “IT HELPS THE NATURAL PROGRESSION OF THE STORY! BESIDES, YOU CAN’T WIN THIS SERIES LONG BATTLE WITHOUT SOME SACRIFICES BEING MADE! IT’S A HORRIBLY PACKAGED MORAL LESSON!”
The Captain is lying on the floor surrounded by three of the Musketeers bleeding slowly to death:
Mom, sniffing gently to herself – “Well I think it’s bullshit.”
Me – “I will make a TV series for you Mom. Where all the people respond to every situation like a normal human being and they all use common sense. Would that make you feel better?”
Mom – “….. Yes, please.”
And coming towards the final scenes of the series where everyone looks wistfully into the middle ground:
Me – “Why does everyone look like Jesus?”
Once the series had finished and there was no more wine:
Me – “Do you think I could get a floor to ceiling wine rack built? Would that be enough wine?”
Mom – No. You need a cellar. Forget looking for a house with a garage or a drive. You don’t need a car anyway, you’ll be too drunk all the time. You just need a cellar. And I’ll live down there.”
Me – “Fucking cellar goblin.”
You know you’ve spent your 25 years wisely when you find yourself decoding the drunken notes where you called your Mom a cellar goblin…
Third Time And All That
All I needed to do was walk into the dining room and walk back out again with my cardigan. Here are my attempts.
Attempt 1
Me, walking back into the living room with a bottle of wine – “Do you think it’s too early to open this?”
Attempt 2
Me, walking back into the living room with a chocolate bar – “Oops, the chocolate and caramel distracted me.”
Attempt 3
Me, walking back into the living room with linen fabric – “I really should have bought another metre of this one, I love it.”
Attempt 4
Me, walking back into the living room with my cardigan – “Turns out this was on the table because it still hasn’t been washed….. Do you know where my grey one is instead?”
Bottled Up
Mom – “Shall I bring the wine with me when I come back?”
Me – “…. Didn’t you say you were going to the toilet?”
Mom – “Yeah.”
Me – “Then no! Strictly, under no circumstances, bring any wine back with you!”
Lines With Nowhere To Go 
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