Now in my sixties I don’t drink, don’t smoke and don’t do drugs, but truth is I have dabbled with all the above in years gone by. In my youth it all seemed grown up and anti-establishment. I was a rebel without a clue. Experimenting with drugs was a brief phase, which probably came about as the result of mixing with others whom I considered to be “cool” at the time (actually more likely “hip”, or “groovy” back then).
Smoking was something that started when I was about fifteen, because everyone else was doing it, or so it seemed to me. Cigarettes were still considered glamorous, even though the health risks were known about. I used to listen to Radio Luxembourg on my Grundig portable radio, which was hidden under the pillow so that I could hear as I dropped off to sleep, and between records I would hear the Peter Stuyvesant adverts. All the magazines were full with Dunhill, Rothmans, Benson and Hedges, Embassy, Players, or maybe exotic French cigarettes such as Gitanes. How could any impressionable youngster resist with so much choice available? The tobacco companies had me in their clutches for fifteen years before I finally managed to quit.
Alcohol, or more specifically beer, was the one I never thought I would give up. I started drinking at around the same time I started smoking, at first quart bottles of Gaymers Old English, Bulmers Woodpecker, or Strongbow were my tipple of choice. These would be consumed in the multi-storey car parks whilst bunking off school. As I grew a little older and was able to get served in one of the local pubs I progressed to beer, always preferring bitter (albeit the gassy ones that were being pushed by the major breweries). A pint of Keg, or a light and Keg was the perfect accompaniment to a game of darts, dominoes, or cribbage. The resurgence of the smaller breweries pushed me towards traditional ales as the years went by. Everything in my life seemed to revolve around beer. Holiday accommodation would be chosen according to the proximity of the local pub. Every day after work I would either head for the pub, or pour a beer to be consumed at home. All my friends were drinkers and I would never consider drinking soft drinks at any social event. Driving was out of the question every evening, as I would always have been over the limit, the truth is there must have been many mornings when I would have failed a breathalyser.
Four years ago was a disastrous year. My wife broke her back and a couple of months later I had gallstones and pancreatitis. These two events were turning points for us both with regards to alcohol. I was admitted to hospital, offered alcohol counselling and advised that I should try to cut back on my consumption. Subsequent research suggested that I should in actual fact give my body at least six months off to give my internal organs a chance to recover. Meanwhile my wife was on slow release morphine among other drugs in an effort to keep on top of the constant pain that she still feels today. Alcohol and morphine together is not recommended, dangerous in fact. Circumstances had conspired to force a change in our lifestyles. I made a decision to stop drinking completely, to become teetotal. I gave away my stock of beer to a grateful workmate, but I don’t think I really actually believed that I wouldn’t ever drink again. Today we are both teetotal, we both miss the demon drink, but have a better life without it. A life that I could never have envisaged whilst I still drank.
Earlier this week a delivery man rang the doorbell. When I answered I was met with a sack barrow fully laden with cases of ale, exactly the type that I used to shop for. It turned out that he should have been a couple of doors away. I still miss the flavour and it felt a bit odd to think that at an earlier stage in my life the address would have been mine. I shan’t drink again.
This is one of the greatest achievements in my life.