Well yesterday started well and then, as the evening wore on, became utterly fascinating - should you be remotley interested in lunacy (moderated of course), self-harm or the sort who really enjoys getting up at 5am for a good, long cold shower in winter. I am not!
So the boy, X, has agreed to sell a couple of items (not many left, I must warn you, dear reader: this has been ongoing for over 3 years now) he owns to repay the theft from my bank account. All smiles (I'm far too soft for this stuff - priblem being I am attempting to show that leniency is better than prison - and he's tasted that little number) and tghe deal is done. I get soft again and offer coffee, a sausage sandwich, buy him some of the old 'rollin' tobacco and he appears grateful, not: he appears hightly and sincerely grateful.
(By the way, I used to enjoy the old 'rollin' in my younger days. I wrote a very short book about it, which you can still get by: CLICK(ing) HERE)
I suspect those of you with any experience in such matters are now ahead of me. Truth is I'm ahead of me too, having been through similar experiences with the boy on more than one previous occasion, but you must understand that the heart wills/the mind desires - even expects a wholly satisfying outcome.
It doesn't happen! The conscience of a drug addict/gambler/drinker (and, yes, we are talking all three) tempts and taunts: it appears at exactly the moment when it can do it's best (or worst) for its owner - leading any one with any trust left (in this case the idiot: yours truly) to actually believe that recovery has finally become the reward you not only expected, but deserved having put so much kindness toward a raging fire of disrespect, theft and appaling behaviour.
Where was I? So all goes well and I have the cash to right the wrong at the bank. We head home and he asks if he can buy us a beer for lunch. I foolishly agree (and I've done that before too). He buys a pack of eight lagers. Later on he cooks supper for the three of us (actually he's a very decent cook). All the time he is drinking the beers. (He claims it's rather warm in the kitchen - and he's correct - so pops down to the shop for a couple more beers.)
After supper I can see that familiar heaviness in his eyes (we're talking 8 or 9 tins of beer by now). We agree to watch the TV together. Half an hour passes and he explains he's going out for a smoke. My wife is (rightly) suspicious, confirnmed by the fact the he walks out of our drive and down the road. "Makepiece & Dempsey" grab their coats to follow. Makepiece prises the information that, in fact, he is there to pick up a 'delivery' (having kept about £60 in cash from the morning's 'tech' sale).
Gloom and disppointment are the only two words to use. However, the old conscience seems to have been awoken in the lad... "Makepiece" (his mother, in case you...) seems able to opersuade him NOT to use this purchase in the normal way, but to throw it away. The boy arrives home within 40 minutes, claims he has fulfilled his promise (to 'chuck' and not to 'use', despite the utter and hateful waste of cash. His appearance lends creedence to his claim (I have seen him afer taking illegal substances: it's not pretty, and his look on this occasion was better - much better). Of course I'll never really know, but relain 'alert'.
Hey ho. Looks like a very expensive dose of 'rehab' coming soon. Anyone with similar experience - I'd be delighted to hear from you. Until tomorrow then.... And we all thought Covid 19 was out biggets problem - ha!
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