Pat Ritter. Books

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'Confessions of an alcoholic' - Page 23: Chapter 2

Bundy was about to board his train of life returning him to where it first started as a child of twelve years at his parent’s house. The year was 1960. It was going to be a long journey.
Quicksilver’s family Christmas was a gathering of relatives from all over the countryside. There were grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and others who claimed to be relatives. Once a year, the family gave away their differences to gather, to celebrate Christmas together.
With each Christmas gathering, came plenty of beer. In those days large beer bottles were used, stubbies hadn’t been invented. Also, on the beer menu was a five-gallon wooden keg. Steel kegs had not been invented as well. A five-gallon keg always started the celebrations, not knowing how many more kegs would be consumed over the Christmas festival season.
Normally, no fewer than thirty relatives arrived for Christmas. It was a very exciting time listening to all of the stories from relatives living far away, visitors from far out west, some from the city, others nearby. Nothing was orderly; Bundy’s mother and grandmother cooked most of the meals making certain Christmas Dinner was the main event of the festive season.
He remembered, it was probably the most exciting time he’d had, when everyone arrived at his home for Christmas. It gave him a chance to swap yarns with his relatives. They wanted to drink alcohol rather than talk with him.

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'Confessions of an alcoholic' - Page 24:

After drinking most of the beer that was there, they’d go and buy more from the hotel. There was a constant supply of alcohol either by large bottles or wooden kegs.
Quicksilver’s home was large enough to accommodate all of the relatives. In those days it was not uncommon for a relative of the family to live in their home for months at a time. One family’s home was the other person’s family home. Everyone was invited to stay.
Throughout the Christmas period there were more relatives than for any other time of the year. Everyone was invited to stay and enjoy him or herself. It was a family tradition. Boy, could they drink alcohol?
Although Bundy was only twelve years old at the time, he was amazed to witness, so many people he knew, drinking beer as if there was no tomorrow. There was not one person at the celebrations that didn’t drink.
His introduction to alcohol was about to begin. It began on the morning of Christmas Day. At the rear portion of Bundy’s house was an enclosed veranda where most of the relatives gathered to drink and swap yarns. Near the doorway leading from the main section of the house, laid the five-gallon wooden keg, for everyone to have easy access to it. It was lying on its side, on a wooden chair, with two towels either side of it, to stop it from rolling off the chair.
Everyone in their turn came to the keg, turn the handle to pour beer into their glass, and then return to where they had been. There was a constant flow

[patritter]

'Confessions of an alcoholic'

His introduction to alcohol was about to begin. It began on the morning of Christmas Day. At the rear portion of Bundy’s house was an enclosed veranda where most of the relatives gathered to drink and swap yarns. Near the doorway leading from the main section of the house, laid the five-gallon wooden keg, for everyone to have easy access to it. It was lying on its side, on a wooden chair, with two towels either side of it, to stop it from rolling off the chair.
Everyone in their turn came to the keg, turn the handle to pour beer into their glass, and then return to where they had been. There was a constant flow of people traffic from the keg to other parts of the veranda.
Bundy stood near the keg, and watched the stream of people visit the keg to refill their glasses. His grandfather visited the keg and said to him, ‘having a good time.’
‘Yeah.’ Bundy replied.
‘How old are you, Bundy?’ asked his grandfather.
‘I’m twelve years old, grandfather.’ replying in a tone quite proud of his age.
‘You’re a big fella for twelve. It’s about time you joined me in a drink.’ He continued.
‘What would dad say?’
‘Bugger your dad, if I say you’re old enough to have a drink, and then you’re old enough.’ He said.
‘I’ve never drank beer before, grandfather.’ Bundy said.
‘It’s about time you did, I’ll show you how.’
Bundy’s grandfather took a glass from the glass rack near to the keg, and placed it under the tap of the keg. With one hand, he held the glass slightly on its side, whilst with the other hand, pulled the tap of the keg. Bundy saw the glass filling from the tap of the keg. It was an amber colour with froth of white on the top as the glass filled with beer.

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'Confessions of an alcoholic' - Page 25:
‘There you are son. Put your 'laughing gear around that one.’ He said and handed the full glass of beer to Bundy.
Bundy took hold of the glass feeling it was cold. The contents smelt strange, an odour vaporising from the top of the glass. It was a strange smell. He had never smelt such a smell before. Although, he had been around people who drank beer most of his life, this was the very first time he had taken notice of the smell.
‘Come on boy, drink the bloody thing otherwise it’ll go flat.’ His grandfather said.
Bundy lifted the glass to his lips, tasting the froth of white foam, and sipped it. It tasted very bitter. When the drink entered his mouth and ran down his throat, he felt the strangest feeling of not being able to identify the true taste of beer. It was the first time he had tried it and nothing like he’d imagined it to be. He didn’t know if he liked the taste or not.
‘Drink it all down,’ his grandfather commanded.
Bundy lifted his glass higher so the beer poured from the glass into his mouth and flowed down his throat into his stomach. He felt a sensational feeling of pleasure. His head felt light and thought it was going to fall from his shoulders. Beer ran from the side of his mouth as he emptied the glass. He quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and the taste of his first beer stayed with him plus the feeling.
No sooner he’d finished the glass, his grandfather took it from him, and poured another the same as the first, and handed it to him, ‘here get another one into yah. One’s not enough to touch the sides.’

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'Confessions of an alcoholic' - Page 26:

life, this was the very first time he had actually taken notice of the smell.
‘Come on boy, drink the bloody thing otherwise it’ll go flat.’ His grandfather said.
Bundy lifted the glass to his lips, tasting the froth of white foam, and sipped it. It tasted very bitter. When the drink entered his mouth and ran down his throat, he felt the strangest feeling of not being able to identify the true taste of beer. It was the first time he had tried it and nothing like he’d imagined it to be. He didn’t know if he liked the taste or not.
‘Drink it all down,’ his grandfather commanded.
Bundy lifted his glass higher so the beer poured from the glass into his mouth and flowed down his throat into his stomach. He felt a sensational feeling of pleasure. His head felt light and actually thought it was going to fall from his shoulders. Beer ran from the side of his mouth as he emptied the glass. He quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and the taste of his first beer stayed with him plus the feeling.
No sooner he’d finished the glass, his grandfather took it from him, and poured another the same as the first, and handed it to him, ‘here get another one into yah. One’s not enough to touch the sides.’
Bundy took the glass from his grandfather quickly placed it to his lips, and drunk its contents. This time he didn’t worry about the smell or the taste. He wanted to enjoy what he was drinking and felt it was something he wanted to do for a long time.

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'Confessions of an alcoholic' - Page 27:

For the remainder of the afternoon Bundy drank beer with Col The Fruiterer emptying large bottles of beer after large bottles. After drinking each glass of beer Bundy began to feel different. He had never felt this way before. His mind vacant without thought of what was happening. All he could think of, I am enjoying this - which he was. He drank to his heart’s content and couldn’t stop. The more he drank the more control he lost.
It was growing dark; Bundy decided it was time to go home. He bid Col The Fruiterer farewell and thanked him for this newfound experience in his life. He lived nearby so it didn’t take long to walk home.
He had trouble walking, particularly in a straight line bumped into people along the footpath, as he tried to weave a pathway toward home. The beer must have affected him in some way because he’d never experienced this type of feeling before.
He couldn’t understand why, he was staggering into people along the footpath, each time apologising to whomever he met. Sometimes he stumbled forward, almost falling over, but regained his footing just in time. He was lucky to remember where he lived.
At last he arrived at the front gate of his home. Holding onto the front gate, to steady him, he didn’t want to have his parents see him in this state of intoxication, and he slowly walked along the pathway toward the front door of the house trying to walk straight. So far, so good, he thought if I can get upstairs to my bedroom without anyone seeing me, I will be alright.

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'Confessions of an alcoholic' - Page 28:

He was thrilled beyond expectation of what lay ahead. At long last he would be earning a living for himself. What would it be like to have money? He thought when he walked past the fruit shop.
‘How you going, Bundy?’ Col The Fruiterer called out as he walked past his shop. He had known Col The Fruiterer since he moved into the area.
‘I’ve finished school and started work.’ He said in an excited voice.
‘Come into the shop and we’ll celebrate.’ His friend called out. Bundy followed Col into the back of his shop and Col went to the refrigerator, and removed a large bottle of beer. He took two glasses from his cupboard and placed them onto a small bench at the back of the shop and opened the bottle to fill each glass with beer.
He handed one of the filled glasses to Bundy and held his glass up high with one hand. ‘Here’s to you, Bundy, may you have all of the luck with your future.’ Each glass clashed together as a toast to Bundy from Col The Fruiterer.
Bundy lifted his glass to his lips and tasted the white foam on the top of the glass. It was cold. Immediately, his thoughts returned to when his grandfather had given him his first taste of beer some three years before. Without hesitation he drank the contents from the glass handing Col The Fruiterer the empty glass for a refill.
For the remainder of the afternoon Bundy drank beer with Col The Fruiterer emptying large bottles of beer after large bottles. After drinking each glass of beer Bundy began to feel different. He had never felt this way before. His mind vacant without