Friday, May 15, 2009

Slave to the Rhythm

We’re tired, but the supplies are holding out well. We still have plenty of tinned goods to work through, and even a few luxuries; though I don’t expect the chocolate will last too long with Melanie around. It’s early days yet, but I’m hopeful we might make it all the way this time.

Back to basics, now. The chocolate is gone, as is the fresh fruit and veg. Strictly tinned and frozen goods from here on, but that’s okay, we’re used to it. Bread and biscuits are the key, I find. If you have them, even if they’re a bit stale, you’re fine. Beans for the bread, tea or coffee for the biscuits.

DAY 12
Biscuits are all gone, now. Melanie has a guilty look about her.

DAY 15
We argued today. Nothing unexpected about that, it’s common enough under these circumstances. Luckily we were able to come to a compromise - the remaining tea is Melanie’s, I get the coffee. We share everything else equally. We agreed not to mention the tomato soup again.

DAY 19
It’s getting more difficult, for both of us. I know I’m just as much to blame as Melanie, but I can’t help feeling aggrieved that she so obviously took the lion’s share of the tinned stew last night. Although it’s true enough that I sneaked a tin of spam outside with me. The joke was on me, though. The stupid little key thing snapped and I was unable to open the can. I had to throw it away, afraid that Melanie would catch me out if I took it back inside. What a waste.

DAY 22
I dreamed of beer and sausages last night.

DAY 23
The atmosphere is raw. We’re both feeling it now. We try to remain civil, and manage it for the most part, but the tension is always there. Food remains the biggest issue, but we’re both concerned about how long the cigarettes will hold out. I’ve taken to smoking only half at a time then nipping it for later. I hate baked beans with all my dark, dark soul.

DAY 25
The cereal is finished! Good God, what I’d do for a pizza.

DAY 26
I’ve forgotten how it feels to be drunk with a full belly. I miss it so. Personal hygiene is suffering from lack of shampoo and fresh razors. Melanie is giving me the look. She’d be better off looking in a mirror, I feel. My own hair may be lank and greasy, but at least it’s short.

DAY 27
We’re within days of reaching our goal, but bitter experience has shown that this is the most dangerous time of all. Stocks are low, and so are our tolerance levels. Melanie hasn’t spoken to me for three days. I don’t mind.

DAY 28
Melanie used the last of her teabags this morning. She’s taken to staring at the meagre remnants of my coffee. She won’t ask, she’s too proud for that. Should I share? It would be the chivalrous thing, the right thing, even.

DAY 29
Ugliest day of all, today. The silence ended and it became an outright, bloody battleground between Melanie and me. Only one more day till we reach our goal, but we couldn’t retain our dignity. She thought I hadn’t noticed the missing spoonful of coffee, but I had. She denied it, of course, but I knew, I knew. We both said things we’ll no doubt regret, but I for one feel justified. It was my coffee, she had agreed to that. It’s going to be a long, cold night, and I have no cigarettes.

DAY 30
Thank God, an end! We’ve made it. Last Friday of the month. There were some shamefaced apologies from both of us this morning, but the knowledge that we’d survived made forgiveness easy.

So far so good. The supplies are holding out. Pizza, sausages and beer last night. It’s a four week month, too.

No comments:

Post a Comment