43395

This morning the UK is blanketed with snow and more lately treacherous ice, I ventured out to the corner shop to purchase cigarettes. I arrived there at the same time as a bluff, hale and hearty, man probably twenty years younger than my 64, who kindly pointed out a patch of ice at the foot of the steps leading to the shops entrance. Having negotiated that behind him I found he had a purchased a packet of cigarettes and saying," I'd better have something to drink, to keep me going through the day!" he selected a large bottle of vodka continuing his patter, obviously seen by him as sarcastic, cynical self depereceating humour that abounds in the north west of England. The problem was nither the owner of the shop, her husband or myself was laughing, especially as he was insistent on making it known to one and all that he had recently gone bankrupt , a common fate affecting many in these troubled times. The atmosphere brightened after he'd gone, I was enjoying the attention of,'Tommy' the cat, who wraps himself aroubd me whenever I appear and there was an element of good nature banter with the owner and her husband.

Now far be it from me to,'do anyone elses itinerary' or declare them an alcoholic, no,no,no but I wondered when I arrived home if I were like that, stopping at the corner shop on my way home, purchasing my cans of strong lager, 9.9ABV, trying to engage in humorous banter in a weak attempt to deflect attention from the facts I was an alcoholic, for much more would have to be purchased at weekend and different shops, supermarkets etc. would have to be visited to assist in my ,'concealment', which in itself was a joke, everybody knew !!!

In truth I was a drunk, my behaviour was that of everyone else who suffers under,'the lash of John Barleycorn,' despite pursuing two successful careers within the Criminal Justice system, I was a,'gamekeeper turned poacher', I was an alcoholic and about as far removed from any society as you can get.

So my trip to the shop provided a ,'snapshot' of my former life with no critsm of those present, we all follow our own path but, I wondered if . . . .