‘Actions speak louder than words’. That’s what me dear old mum used to say, bless her. Everyone thought she was a right walk-over, letting people say one thing, and do another.
She wasn’t though. She’d sit back, let ’em all blather on about this thing and that thing, how they were gonna do this or that for her, and then just see if they made good on their words. And then she’d make her mind up. If you were a goodun, she’d be your friend for life. If your promises turned out to be no more than Scotch mist, you wouldn’t see her for dust.
Take me dad. Full of bluster, the big I Am, he was. Dropping promises like pennies, but they never amounted to much. She kicked him out in the end. And good on her, I say.
Pity I’m more like him than her, between you and me. Another thing she would say was ‘an apple never falls for from the tree’. Reckon his trees were bigger and stronger than hers, ‘cos I just can’t help meself. I mean well, honest I do, but you know how it is. Dontcha?
Take the drink. It’s got a right hold on me, it has. Can’t seem to shake it off. I promised over and over I’d give it a rest, walk past the pub rather than just drop in for a quick half on the way home. It never is a quick half, know what I mean?
What’s that? Me mum? God no, she ain’t dead. Alive and kicking she is. I see her in the street every now and again but she ain’t in my life any more, so it’s past tense all the way with me. It’s easier that way.
She cuts me dead, if you like.
I may as well be.
Fancy another one for the road, love?