Ron and I are having dinner at Pranzo’s. After we order I pick up a little table
menu as we wait, glance at it and put it down. A little while later a waiter brings two red-coloured
cocktails to the young romantic couple on the next table. I call him over and ask, ‘What are they
having?” ‘They’re Pamopolitan’s.’
he says. Blinking I say,
‘What?’ He repeats ‘Pamopolitan’s.’ ‘Are they on the menu?’ I ask. ‘Yes, call me over if you want one.’ And he darts away busily. I grab the little cocktail menu and
scan it quickly, there at the bottom is a cinnamon
Pamopolitan! Well I never. The reason for said name
is the ‘pama’ pomegranate liqueur.
Well of course I had to have one, in Pam’s honour. I often imagine her now when we are out
having dinner saying, ‘Go on, have a drink!’ And this was one of those moments surely. ‘Yes but don’t call me Shirley,’ I hear
her saying!
This jogged some drinking memories. In our teen years we would plump for vodka and orange or rum and
coke, always sweet drinks,
Cinzano and lemonade, which Angie our middle sister sometimes still
has, she never lost her sweet tooth.
Then we graduated to half a lager.
Not wine, wine in pubs is always crap.
Over the last ten years Pam liked a glass of chardonnay
with dinner. I, on
the other hand, gave up alcohol. I
was totally off it for five years.
Sugar was the problem, so I quit drinking. I didn’t miss it hardly at all, mind you I was
being very strict with myself. I
was in nun mode. I
usually go into nun mode after some kind of excess, usually that was men
not alcohol, but you can’t be too careful. Pam would always roll her eyes at me
during such times. Oh Jane
you can be such a schoolmarm!
I'm trying to remember Pam drunk. She didn't get pie-eyed in front of me. She probably watched herself when I was around, as she didn’t want to get lectured by her bossy, over protective eldest
sister. My only memory is when we
went on holiday with our parents to Tenerife, a Spanish island off the coast of
Africa. I was seventeen, Angie maybe sixteen and Pam
was fourteen. One night we went to a bar without our parents and
started drinking. Pam didn’t drink
yet as she was too young but that night she did. I looked at her while we were having a good laugh with some
people and said, ‘Oh God she’s drunk!’ She was rolling around and giggling, her long dark hair and pale
freckled skin all innocent and squiffy, in the pink cheesecloth dress that she
loved. ‘Yikes, we’d better get you
back to the hotel!’ I said and
walked her staggering back to the room where she fell on the bed and passed
out. Phew!
Pam and Angie
Me and Pam drinking
We went a bit
wild in Tenerife, well me and Angie did, Pam was a bit young yet. We had mum and dad worried sick. One night I was strolling romantically
with a waiter on the beach, it was getting late. Next thing I saw my dad scanning the beach with his hands on
his hips looking for me. I grabbed
the lad and ducked behind a sun bed.
Meanwhile mum was looking for Angie in a disco. The next morning at
breakfast mum said, ‘Blimey, I
hope to God you lot are being careful in those discos. Last night looking for our
Angie I crossed the dance floor and got picked up three times!’ She needed to be worried. I nearly got raped one night escaping just by the skin of my teeth. And Angie was all goo goo gaga about a handsome
young dude who told her (and she believed him!) that he was a brain
surgeon. You should have seen him, a brain surgeon he was not. We went shopping one day and there he was working in a local boutique. Busted!
In the nineties I lived in London and Pam would come to
stay. I remember we went on a
girl’s night out with some of my friends and ended up in a club near Piccadilly
Circus. We were getting drunk,
well I was. Pam was a little
subdued, as she was shy around new people. She told me she liked a young barman and I was all… go for
it! But she was too shy and sober…
so I started flirting with him! He
was quite ‘fit’ as we used to say.
Since I was drunk I started doing my sex kitten impression, draping
myself along the bar like a cat, pouting my head off and flapping my
eyelids. I must have looked like a
right fool. But to my delight he
responded beautifully. Oh well I
thought drunkenly, Pam didn’t want him.
Little did I know that Pam was seething. Before we left, the barman said to me, ‘I’m having a party
tomorrow, want to come and help me blow up balloons?’ Want to help me blow up balloons? I loved it! He
gave me his phone number and I was happy as Larry. Pam and I got into a taxi outside the club and the driver
proceeded to zoom like a fair ground ride around the streets of London. He was driving so fast and I was so
drunk that I was tumbling from one side of the cab to the other. Pam got worried, ‘Jane where are we going?! Where is he taking us?’ ‘Oh it’s all right, he's sort of going in the right direction’ I said as I flew
through the air too drunk to care and landed giggling in the corner.
When we got home we pulled out the sofa bed for Pam and I flopped down on it in a heap.
We chatted for a while but I soon started to fade. I had to go to
bed. 'Will you pull me up?’ I said, and held out my hand. Pam grabbed it and yanked me
up violently. I shot forward and
hit my nose hard on the arm of the sofa. Blood poured all over the
clean white mattress. 'Oh God, Jane
I’m sorry!' 'Blimey Pam,' I said, 'you
don’t know your own strength, I hope it's not broken.' Feeling very sober all of sudden I
said, ‘You’re angry with me aren’t you?’
She said that she had been furious with me all night. She hid it very well! ‘Pam why didn’t you tell me? I’d have stopped immediately.’ She shrugged. ‘God I’m so sorry Pam I thought you weren’t bothered. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known... well maybe I would. I was so drunk, I’m sorry. What a
slut I can be.’ 'Oh never mind,
it’s done now' she said sobering up from her anger as she watched blood streaming from my nose. We
were friends again. Pam I'm so sorry I ever hurt you. I love you more than anyone, I wasn't very good at showing it sometimes. I can't believe we will never go out and get tipsy together again.
I hereby encourage everyone to have a Pamopolitan. To Pam! Cheers Pam! Look I'm doing my face from
The Party! The 'What is it?' scene.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
Rumi