Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'Really? Ok, great. Thanks. That's very kind of you,' I said, looking at Ben for some
sign of acknowledgement.
'Thanks, that's really good of you. But we really don't want to put you out,' said Ben.
'Aye, it's nae bother. Yous both need somewhere to sleep. I have space. It's th' leest ah
can dae. Nae bother,' he said, knocking back the shot of whisky that sat next to his half-
finished pint of Guinness.
'But we might be a pair of serial killers,' joked Ben.
'That's awe rite. I'm a serial killer tay,' he said flashing us a glance that made Hannibal
Lecter look like a teddy bear. He then burst out laughing and we laughed, too, although
somewhat less convincingly.
'ThenameisMick.Here,gogetyerselfsaweedrink,'hesaid,handingovera£10note.
'That's very generous of you, but we're ok,' I said.
'C'mon ya pussies. I insist. Get me another pint, too.'
'This is going to sound really stupid,' I said, 'but we're on this challenge to cycle the
length of the country without spending any money.'
'Uh huh,' said the man. 'Aam askin' you ta spend mah money.'
'I know, I know, but part of the deal is that we're not allowed to use money at all - even
other people's money.'
'Ah for fuck sake,' he said, grabbing the arm of a guy sat watching the football. 'Go
and get these wee lads a fecking drink. And one for me and yous, too.' He fumbled in his
pocket and handed the guy £20 instead.
The young student didn't know what to say. He was just being ordered to go and buy
drinks by a drunk Scottish man. You could see him weighing it up in his head, and then it
suddenly clicked that he was getting a free drink.
'Alright. What will it be then?' he said.
'Two pints of Guinness please,' I said.
'Ack, that's more like it,' said Mick. 'Yous gotta stop being such southern nancies.'
What followed was, without exception, the strangest night of my life.
We sat talking to Mick on the bench outside Walkabout for another hour. During that
time, he sent the young lad at the end of the bench to buy another round. It transpired that
Mick had been an alcoholic for many years. He had managed to stay 'dry' for five months
up until the day we met him. That morning he had been to the doctor to receive the res-
ults of some tests. He was told that the cancer that he was being treated for had spread
throughout his body. Mick then arrived at Walkabout just as it was opening, and had been
there ever since. Ten hours of solid drinking had caused his words to slur slightly, but it
hadn't hampered his energy or his memory.
'Aam the greatest living English-speaking poet in th' world today,' he declared.
'You're a poet?' I asked.
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