Two photos, separated by 50 years. What the bloody hell happened to the bit in the middle. Where did it go? And how did such a chirpy looking young lad make such an absolute cock up of what should have been a comfortable and prosperous life. How, when everything is going his way did he manage to flush it all down the toilet. The answer in one word:
Of course, when he had his first drink at around fourteen, he had no idea where this was going to lead. He didn't actually like it very much. It was back in the day when most pubs had a little window off to one side somewhere that you knocked on, and eventually a miserable looking man would slide it open and gruffly ask what you wanted. If you were lucky, and he didn't care about the law, he would let the young lad buy a pint of light ale, and with his mate he would sneak off down to the recreation ground and drink it. A couple of years later, and looking older than his years, the young man could be found propping up the bars in most of the pubs in the village, spending his meagre earnings as an apprentice in the print trade. By now he liked the alcohol very much, and it was to be his best friend for the next thirty five years or so. For thirty of those years he functioned well enough, but drank a lot, held down good jobs, drank a lot more, got married, messed that up, got divorced, got drunk and stayed there. All this time he had no idea that he was drinking alcoholically, never ever having just one drink, always being the bloke at the bar at the end of the night, asking for a final refill as they called last orders, and if there was a lock in going on, he was always there. And the sad thing is, he tought he was having a good time. He didn't know he was on his way to full blown alcoholism. That sort of sneaked up behind him and beat the crap out of him all of a sudden, when one day, when he tried to, he realised he couldn't stop, and all hell broke loose.
He's sober now though, but alcohol took its toll, financially, physically and mentally. It cost him his home, which he sold to buy a narrow boat because he insanely thought that he could get away from all the things that were making him drink, if he went off on the canals. But he didn't stop drinking, it got much, much worse. He became a two bottle of brandy a day man, pausing only to go unconscious for short periods until his body woke him because it need more alcohol. Then he had to sell his boat bcause he ran out of money. But he didn't stop drinking. He ended up in a detox unit, but he didn't stop drinking. Then he had countless stays in hospitals and more detox units, but he didn't stop drinking. Finally, early in 2004 he was sent to a rehab, where, by the Grace of God, he did stop drinking, and slowly managed to rebuild his life.
Today he works in social care and looks after others who find life difficult sometimes. He loves his job and is grateful to be able to do it. He knows that he shouldn't really be here, the alcohol should have killed him. It came pretty close to doing just that. He is also pretty sure that, at some point, there will still be a price to pay for the way he lived his life. He has written a book about the worst time in his life in the hope that it will do some good, and if it helps one alcoholic to get sober, then it was worth writing. If you're interested please watch the video, or go to the website demonsinthedark.com.