Grits by Niall Griffiths

Author:Niall Griffiths [Griffiths, Niall]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Sub-Culture, Fiction, Wales, Adult, Relationships, Women's Fiction, Chick-Lit
ISBN: 9780099285175
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2001-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

Cardigan Bay, och aye!

Cardigan Bay, a wish you wair vodka

I would drink you dry!

Oxygen this month is fuckin ace, up at the union in the uni, ace fuckin music, amazin fuckin E an stuff … this E; it whooshes through me an a feel like a rag doll picked up and shaken by a dog, a big, friendly, bouncy, bounding, slobbery smiley dog … Mairead’s dancing opposite me an she looks fuckin ace. The strobes… Christ, a feel so fuckin cool an happy, me limbs won’t stop moving … this is fuckin incredible … thair’s a slight self-conscious streak to this E hit, it always affects me that way, but at the same time a feel gorgeous an exciting an evrybody’s ace, cool, sexy … this is fuckin incredible … out the corner uv me eye a notice Colm leanin against the bar, watchin me, so a put more energy into me dancing, sway me hips, try t’look sexy which a know a fuckin do … Mairead does as well … a lean t’wards er:

—You look fuckin gorgeous! a yell over the music. She smiles an goes:

—What?

A say it again: —You! Look! Gorgeous!

—WHAT?

A flap me hands an smile and continue t’dance. Then a smile an continue t’dance. Then a just continue t’dance. It’s fuckin ace.

—Another pint, Mags? Lager?

—Orright, a say, an knock back the last few inches in me glass. —An a chaser? They do cheap shorts ere.

—OK then. Vodka?

—Cheers.

—Two pints of lager and a vodka then. Comin up.

—An get some more change for the pool.

Martin goes off to the bar an a rack the balls up on the table. Three games t’one in my favour it is; am playin fuckin ace t’day n stuff. If a had the choice, tho, a wouldn’t be ere with Martin, but am skint an ee’s buying, so, y’know, I am. Ee tried it on with me at a party last week but a knocked im back; ee was quite persistent an stuff, but I was avin fuckin none of it. Ee’s one uv those blokes who find it difficult t’understand why girls don’t want t’go out with them; ee thinks it’s cos a don’t want a relationship at the moment, or cos am afraid uv bein hairt n stuff, an ee just can’t grasp the real reason, which is that ee’s a ginger, overweight, patronising tosser oo a fancy about as much as a fancy psoriasis. Anyway, t’day ee’s bein extremely generous, either t’buy me affection or as a way uv apologising for bein so overbearing an insistent last week. A don’t cair what his reasons are; am just gonna exploit the situation for all it’s wairth.

—Here y’are.

—Ah cheers.

A knock the vodders straight back an sip the lager.

—Oo’s tairn is it t’break?

Ee points at me with is cue. —Yours.

A smash the balls apart an a red goes spinnin off into the corner pockit. A knock in another couple an then bring the cue ball t’rest against the side cushion; nice one. When am

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