Thursday, 28 January 2016

Missing My Cue.

One of those professionals I mentioned earlier asked me today:

Are you taking any medication?

‘Yes. Alcohol.’

Oh?

‘It helps ward off the incipient insanity.’

Is this something you should talk to a doctor about?

‘No.’

Bloody cheek! She sounded like my old English teacher. I wish I’d said: ‘I take it under the supervision of a qualified leprechaun, through a catheter on reverse thrust.’

That’s the difference between writing and living. You can always add things later to a written work, but in real life you rarely get a second chance. (Until somebody else asks me the same question, that is. Then I’ll be ready.)

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