Syb writing last
week about Scrumpy reminded me of one or two more drinking incidents when I was
in Cyprus. Before I started writing to Syb I was a bit wild; well there wasn’t
much to do as we were virtually confined to camp for the whole of the time we
were there, so drinking became an important pastime. Phil was a drinking
companion of mine at the time and on one occasion we ran out of both money and
booze. In our search to find something to drink we came upon a bottle of orange
squash and a bottle of after shave (alcohol) so we thought we’d give it a try. I’ve long forgotten the proportions we mixed but I still remember the
taste. Actually the taste wasn’t too bad
but the smell was atrocious, orange squash and Old Spice, our breath must have
smelt beautiful.
Phil was a bit of
an odd ball when he was on a survival exercise where each member of the team
had to create an individual shelter for the night he took a bottle of Scotch
downed it in one and slept peacefully in a ditch while his compatriots were
scrubbing round trying to make shelters. I never did find out how he felt the
next morning or what his Oi/c said.
There are many more
tales of drunkenness but not particularly amusing so instead I’ll leave you
with a little poem I remember from that time, I’m not sure where I found it, it
could have been in Esquire or some magazine like that.
Starkle.
Starkle little twink
Who
the hell you am I think
I’m
not under the affluence of incerhol
I’m
not as drunk as some tinkle peep I am
I’ve
only had tee martoonies
And
I’ve all day to Sunday up in
I’m
so drunk I don’t know who’s me yet
But
the drunker I sit here the longer I get.
The
spell checker has just had a fit!!
No comments:
Post a Comment