The Demise of Roland Ratso: Chapter seventeen

But the icing on the cake was when I was walking down to the club and there were two young girls aged probably five or six by the post box. They both stared at me and then as I had passed them one said to the other “That’s the real Santa that is.” It made my Christmas. Another time I was dressed as Santa and guested at the Leisure Centre. The welfare has got a beautiful hand made robe and a professional wig and beard. “Hello son, “ I said to a young lad, “and what’s your name?” “YOU’RE Santa” he replied, “You should know.” I think for the first tie in my life I was lost for words. Saturday night and Jonathan has just come in from work and asked why it is chapter twelve, twelve and a half then fourteen. Well “during the pit” we numbered our coal faces and there was never 13’s. “During the pit” is my sons’ parody on Uncle Albert’s “during the nineteen thirty nine to nineteen forty five conflict wiv Germany” whereby they extract the Michael out of me when I mention my mining days. Saturday night I went out and had a few pints (four) and had to leave one – I gave it to my old mate Plum who is always glad to help out. Can’t remember when I have ever done that but I put it down to a late tea. Plum had to go for a liver biopsy. “Got to go to hospital for an autopsy, kid” he said. “It’s a bloody biopsy! You idiot. The people I have to talk to! The club was half full as usual – the singer was good and a good night was had by all. Was up and down all night peeing – I hope I haven’t got a urine infection starting. Haven’t had a poo since I finished taking the anti-diahorrea tablets. I bet when it does come it will be like last time. All or nothing. I gave Benny, one of the welfare stalwarts the first ten pages of my blog printed as he hasn’t got a computer. He said that it made him laugh and made him cry in some places. Quite an admission from an old pit lad who is tough as nails. Everyone was inquiring about my health – they all knew about my holiday weekend at City Hospital which was extremely kind but I get the feeling that for some reason they want to read more into it than there was. There is a psychological condition called “naïve projection” which is where you think you have a condition but you transfer it to someone else and I think many of them get worried that they might have a severe illness so they use other people’s illness as a relief. It might just be me or my paranoia going into overdrive but when I told them that I just had a mouth infection and it has now cleared up I don’t think some of them believed me. Picko was in the club – Picko of the “I’ll give you a lift to hospital but we will bring your arse back in black plastic bag” fame. Good to see the old lad out – he lost a kidney due to an inherited cancer and will never be free of it – only keep it under control. He says his father Ken has been reading this blog and it has been a tonic for him as well.