The boy’s eyes were practically rolling in his head. He had never seen him so drunk, and so early too. He had come in at opening time and drunk solidly for two hours. You got to expect it from some of they other buggers, but not Matty, he thought, shaking his head as he came round from the back of the bar. ‘C’mon, Matty m’dear ... you can’t spend all day in ’ere … dunno what you’re a-thinkin’ of, boy. Now just you get you ’ome and sleep it off.’ He hauled Matty off his bar stool and helped him unceremoniously out of the door, ‘An’ doan’ you go out on that there boat o’yourn checking them pots … not in that state … y’hear?’ Matty had absolutely no intention of checking his lobster pots again today. He had not resisted being ejected from the pub but he could just as happily have stayed there until he fell off his barstool. He was aware he was drinking a little too much these days. Some, especially my old Ma, would say a lot too much, he thought now with a drunken chuckle.
