Why alcohol is bad for me
2019-12-22 Comments
I don't have any specific Christmas stories to tell as nothing unusually exciting or funny has happened over this time, but in keeping with the festive season and our increased capacity for food and drink, I have some mishaps involving alcohol I will share with the group. Coincidentally, both these incidents happened in Ireland, weeks apart. They happened during the time my husband and I were living there. I'm not sure if the outcomes would have worked out so well if I'd been in England.
The first one happened in the flat we were renting. When we signed the lease it was newly decorated and everything was painted a nice neutral magnolia colour. It was about 7 months into the contract and we kept the place pretty decent. One day I was packing away the groceries into the fridge and went to shut the door when a couple of cans of stout tumbled over the low barrier of the top shelf of the door. They somersaulted and when they hit the floor the pressure caused them to burst and both sprayed their contents directly in my face and all over the kitchen walls and ceiling. I half shrieked, half screamed as I was assaulted by the black stuff and managed to avoid the rest from hitting my eyes by putting my hands over the jets.
After the explosion was over, I surveyed the "damage". I stood sopping wet with stout dripping down my face, hair and clothes turning my head to look round the little kitchenette. Then there was a scurrying sound, and my husband suddenly appeared with his hairy bum cheek hanging over his underpants and trousers halfway up his legs, holding onto them where he'd rushed out of the bathroom, to see what the muffled screams he heard were about. What a sight we both must have looked.
It was terrible, our newly painted beige kitchen, now had dark streaks of liquid all down the walls and over the ceiling. I'm not sure how the stout reached the left side of the wall, because I would have expected the fridge door to block some of the spray, but no. It was equally dripping in grey lines too. In a panic, I grabbed some kitchen roll and began to wipe, but it was no use - the stains remained. Once it dried, the lines did lighten up but not enough to hide that they were there.
Unfortunately for me, the paint was a matt finish. Not the most practical choice for the kitchen because it's more absorbant than a sheer finish. I guess it was cheaper to slap all the walls in the flat with the same big tub of paint than using a separate special kitchen paint. But then again, the landlord wasn't expecting a blackwash of dark beer to be thrown up there.
After hitching up his underwear and trousers, my husband peeked his head in to have a look around and to his credit he was lovely about it. He asked if I was OK, told me not to worry, then said he'd just have to paint over it - I think he was more disappointed at losing both the cans of stout, rather than the state of the walls and ceiling. We actually left it a few weeks later, when my husband repainted everywhere in the kitchen. He did three layers and to the untrained eye, it was a really good job. But if you looked more closely, you could actually see some of the stout stains coming through. Luckily, when we had our mid-contract inspection the following month, we passed with flying colours!
My second episode - not long after the stout bombs - was in a supermarket in the alcohol section where there were packs of 6 beer bottles stacked up from the floor, four or five packs high. To explain the shape of the pack, each set consisted of 6 glass bottles held in place by a thin cardboard sleeve wrapped over the three bottles leaving a gap where you can see 2 bottles from each end.
I happened to innocently place my hand (gently) on top of the highest pack as I browsed the shelves, but because of the way the packs were stacked (the wide base of each pack bottom sitting on top of the smaller surface area of bottle tops of the previous pack layer), it only took a gentle sway - as I took my hand away - of the pack on the top layer to send the whole stack to topple, then the outer packs to lean and fall under itself sending the whole display crashing to the floor. I swear if it wasn't me, it would have been some other innocent person (possibly even one that was looking to buy a pack) who would have taken the top one off and ended up breaking that house of cards.
I was stunned, completely baffled like a deer in headlights, watching the horror as if time slowed down and I could see the packs of beer fold over on themselves and the display collapsed. The noise was incredible and could be heard throughout the store. After the initial shock, I came to my senses and found the store manager suddenly standing at my side, he must have run out from a secret passage in one of the aisles. I stood around whilst they began to clear the mess of glass and beer and the manager told me not to worry as they would be getting replacements from their beer representative. I have never been so terrified in my life, expecting to be hit by their bill, but I guess it’s covered under their insurance. I was so relieved, plus they were so calm and matter-of-fact about it.
The checkout girl was quite sweet about it too, she asked if that was me who sent the beers crashing since she heard it from where she was sitting. I admitted it was (probably seeing my burning cheeks at the time) so to put me at ease, she said something similar had happened not too long ago and not to worry too much about it. As nice as they were, it took me a few weeks before I went back to that store. Once I did, I returned many many times after, although each time I had the thought in the back of my head whether someone would spot me and call out "LOOK - IT'S THE BEER SMASHING LADY"!
Although, I am not the world's biggest drinker, somehow I still get into trouble with alcohol. There you have it, beware the perils of booze. Have a lovely Christmas and happy new year!