A Learning Curve

Frank James Ferrie

Many people are not prepared to recount their personal histories because they think that their lives are simply bottled tedium with gas. But thats not the way I think of things, at least not now I dont. I began to see the truth of the matter when, out of the blue, a big guy punched me in the face. The blow sent me into a spin that ended when my chin slammed into the edge of a lamppost. I think of that lamppost every now and then, even on a clear day, when the wind is in the west and five favourites in a row have romped home at Haydock Park, I can still taste the acrid green flaky paint. But it was a learning curve I was on. In fact, had I known it, I was at the confluence of several of the beggars; there was a kind of destructive effect as the crests hit the troughs. Thats what it was and Ive still got a mark there to prove it.

The conversation started out promisingly enough though. I was getting in all the right nods and interjections at contentious points that would, Im sure, have looked the part and I was well conscious of the fact. Looking the part has always been an important facet in things for me, really. But at some unidentifiable point, I began to get bored with the predictable equilibrium, and started irritating the company with my incredible observations on life. I just sort of got into it even though something at the back of my mind was kicking me under the table.

One by one, I managed, with considerable efficiency, if not particularly notable style, to entirely alienate everyone around me. Like all great and true geniuses, this is an innate talent that has not required practice to perfect. Its just there; breathing like a sick animal down the back of my collar.

I remember the bar manager appearing at our table, a decent bloke Im sure. He made it clear, from the first I think, that he bore me no personal animosity, but he kindly asked me to leave. I couldnt see what the fuss was about as the manager proffered my coat and I appealed to my friends to intervene. It was a friendly argument and there was no need to go over the top. But the wall of impregnable friendliness that had greeted my arrival had been breached in several places. Thats for sure, because all of a sudden nobody wanted to know. I sat there for a minute like an idiot waiting for a sign. Then the manager offered me a bonus that secured my exit; he said that if I waited outside, he was prepared to discuss the matter further. This seemed reasonable enough but I remember thinking, even then, that there was a sting in the tail. I got up to leave anyway, trying my best to retain a semblance of dignity and decorum whilst zipping up my parka, but I was still in comparative bewilderment.

Well, whatever the details, I had decided, finally, to make the best of a bad job and get the hell out of there, go home and sleep it off. Yes, that was the consensus of my dwindling thoughts. But its typical, isnt it? As the heavy outside door of the pub heaved-to behind me and the roar of the traffic replaced the din and the smoke of the pub, I realised that one of my trainer laces had got caught up in the mangled metal plate at the bottom of the door. I had to open the door again to get the thing untangled and as I did so, I caught the eye of the manager once again, watching carefully from behind the bar. I put the face of my palm up in deference, not defiance, Im sure, and got the lace free with my other hand. I stood up at last and left the pub forthwith.

I didnt see anybody else in the doorway, but as I turned into the street a complete stranger caught hold of the scruff of my jacket and planted his fist right into my face. The pub door slammed shut once again as I made an unrecorded arc towards the traffic. I remember that bloody door because it marked the end of a particularly distasteful spell of consciousness.

For me, it seemed that not a minute had passed, when I grabbed hold of myself. I leapt to my feet and stormed the door with revengeful lust and fury. But it was three am and everyone had gone home. Maybe that was just as well.