In Black Wings, there’s a part where Irene, Caleb and Rain are drinking Crackling in Caleb’s squat.
I think I shall explain the horrors of Crackling to those lucky people who have never come across it.
Described as “a crisp, semi-sweet, natural perlé wine of excellent quality” (I’m laughing as I copy-paste. What drugs are these people on?), it is in fact, the devil’s own fizzy urine, and it is also available in a 1 1/2 litre bottle with, naturally, a screw-top. Mmmm, I can tell you’re all salivating already.
I once, somehow, managed to drink an entire one of those huge bottles on my own (a fact of which I am not particularly proud, but I was in my crusty stage at the time). As you would expect, I passed out while waiting for my friend Karen to come pick me up. Poor Karen had to stand outside my flat chucking ornaments off the windowsill at my head, until I rose, much like a certain famous Jewish guy, from the dead..
Then since we were supposed to go out, I ATE instant coffee in a misguided attempt to regain sobriety. THIS is the kind of thing that seems sensible after a bottle of crackling. If memory serves, we had another bottle of something else in the car. And I have no idea where we went, although I do briefly remember eating something that may have been a burger pie from the 7-11. Gah.
We probably went to Crazy Cats or Cornerhouse, my two homes away from home.
Okay, on to stats – 4/24? – hob an lam
The new book is back in first present, a pov I can’t seem to shake right now. Ah well. 1423/90 000