At least if he was comatose, we'd have a bit of grace before he woke upand tempers flared. Okay, so I had to shush my little brother andsister, also just in from school and bickering or giggling depending onwhat was going on - but it was better than the full-on, still-pissedaggro that would start if he hadn't conked out for an hour.
He would lean back precariously on the chair, ready to topple over atany second but more likely to suddenly lash out over a dish not washedproperly, me being home late, not getting the shopping in before mum gothome. The ranting would start: who did I think I was, a failure at 13,that's all I amounted to. No-one appreciated him and all the hard workhe did. We were all a disappointment - no wonder he had to have a drink,to be able to cope with us lot. No matter that we had to do withoutelectricity for a year as he had drunk the money away. I used to lie inbed at night listening to my mum crying.
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