Korsakoff and the Hovering Dogs

By Francis Goode

Two men troubled by their memories: one’s desperate to forget, the other’s already forgotten too much. For Mike Collins, going through a painful marriage break-up and stuck in a job he hates, the past is full of painful memories he’d rather erase. He’s sacrificed the hopes and dreams of his youth and despairs of the future. For Bonzo, bassist for the veteran rockers the Hovering Dogs, the excessive lifestyle of his earlier years has had a permanent effect on his memory. Their paths collide when Mike falls in with the band and begins to recover some of his old dreams. And when Mike falls for Cheryl, the blonde drummer, it seems to ignites the fury of the band’s frontman, Dylan. But Cheryl has painful memories of her own, and as she and Mike come together, they realise they share more than they’d realised. As Mike learns the inner secrets of the Hovering Dogs, and life is turned upside down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Francis Goode
• Release date: May 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311090621

Francis Goode

Francis Goode's roles include (in alphabetical order) engineer, philosopher and writer. While taking part in the information and communications revolution that has completely changed the way we live and do business with each other, he has never stopped questioning what we are doing, why, and how we might do it better. In the work of the great philosophers, notably Spinoza, he has found some pointers to the roads that may eventually lead to some answers. In his writing, he aims to share the fruits of his searching in as entertaining and informative way as possible.

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KORSAKOFF AND THE HOVERING DOGS

by Francis Goode

www.francisgoode.com

Copyright 2014 Francis Goode

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Part I

Some memories are like old friends, always welcome and a comforting presence. Others lurk like muggers around the corner, glinting knives at the ready to cut deep. And it's not just earth shaking events like the shooting of presidents that can trigger their assault. Like now, approaching this roundabout on the M32 flashes back that moment when we were driving out of Bristol and Sam wondered, almost casually, if staying together was really the best thing for all of us. With Alice asleep in the back, and a disastrous family weekend break in Bristol behind us, the chilly impact of her words hit me so hard I missed the M4 turning and we ended up heading back into the city.

That was months ago, but the memory flashes brightly as I slip through the traffic in the pissing rain, Nielsen playing on the radio and me howling along at the top of my voice like those sad gits you see who think because you can't hear them, you don't know they're singing.

Can't live, if living is without you...

Stupid song. Of course you can live without her. Without them. What are you going to do, drop dead just because the wife and daughter you've worked all those years to support suddenly say they don’t want you anymore so you walk out to leave them in the house you’re still paying for? Sentimental crap.

Red tail lights stretch out ahead. They suddenly star-burst on the splattered windscreen that my wipers struggle to clear, and the queue shudders to a halt. And they call it rush hour. This is almost exactly where the wheels first came off our weekend break. Sure, we were already a bit knackered by then after two hours in the car, but the sudden braking woke up Alice in the back and started her off whining. Within a few minutes, Sam was joining in.

Bloody selfish motorists, look at them all. Hardly a single car with more than one person in it. Bloody typical.

They've got to get to work, Babe. I realise immediately my mistake in offering anything but complete support for her thesis.

Oh, so that makes it all better, does it? she snapped back. They've got to get to work, so it's OK to wreck the environment, screw up the climate and clog up the roads. Because there's no other way to get to work, is there? No bikes, or walking, or buses or trains or anything. They just have to drive, yeah?

Being pretty tired and fed up myself, I deepened my mistake. Perhaps they have to drive to put food on the table for their families who don't want to live in the places where their work is.

Light blue touch paper, and retire.

Oh, so it's all my fault, is it? For wanting a decent place for our daughter to grow up in? And that's what's responsible for all these bloody cars choking us all to death, is it? Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realise it was all our fault, Alice's and mine. So bloody sorry for being such a burden on you, I don't know how you put up with us, I really don't.

After she'd blown herself out we all sank back into sullen silence. Except Alice, of course.

***

The phone goes off, that irritating plonking tune that I always mean to change but never get around to, like just about everyone else in the office. The display says Derek Brannigan. Just what I need. I jab the screen like it was his eye.

Hello, Derek.

Yeah, yeah. Where are you?

Bristol. Trying to find my...

How did it go today? Did you close the Jackson’s deal? What's the margin?

What little charm Derek possesses is reserved strictly for customers.

Jackson's say they're OK with the principle...

The principle? What in God's name have principles got to do with anything? You mean you didn't close it?

There's just a couple of queries I need to check...

Oh, Mike, Mike, why do you do this to me? I thought you said we had Jacksons in the bag?

We're getting there, Derek. Trust me.

The sigh comes down the line so clear I can smell his lunchtime Scotch.

That's the problem, I don't know if I can any more. They're talking to Anysoft Corp. They're going to do us over on price. I feel it in my water.

I don't think so, it's just...

For God's sake, Mike, why didn't you just close it today? It was perfectly doable. What happened?

Like I said, they just had a concern about...

"Look, Mike, I'm getting worried about