All About the Whiskey!
Who said I was drunk?
I had eighteen bottles of whiskey in the cellar, and my husband ordered me to throw the contents of the lot down the sink or there would be trouble. I said that I would fulfill this unnatural request.
Who in their right mind would do such a thing , such a waste, they're in the cellar for a reason, I enjoy a glass of whatufancy where on earth is the harm?
I withdrew the cork from the first bottle and poured the contents down the sink with the exception of one glass which I drank. I extracted the cork from the second bottle and repeated the process with the exception of one glass which I drank.
Fourteen or fifteen years of age when I first realized that drink was entertaining to say the least. I joined the local Wine Circle and on this particular occasion they happened to be having a wine tasting session. The tastings were all of various home made wines, what you are supposed to do is: smell the bouquet, taste swill around the mouth and spit, Not me ,Oh no, smell, taste the lot and moved on to the next one.
I don't remember much of the evening, fell asleep and had to be carried home, Parents not happy at all, they didn't punish me as the hangover in the morning would do that . Ha I woke up full of the joys and ate a hearty breakfast.
I then withdrew the cork from the third bottle and poured the whisky down the sink which I drank. I pulled the cork from the fourth bottle down the sink and then poured the bottle down the glass which I drank.
A little older now and able to frequent the public houses and enjoy the hustle and bustle of pub life. What fun..this was an evening out where all sense of reality and decorum goes out the window. Nobody ever had too much to drink on these occasions and at time proof was required to enforce this.
I lived in a town divided by a river that was spanned by a thirteen arched bridge,As luck would have it ,not, the pubs were on the other side so walking home was a trek. One evening, on my home,and proving a point ,I walked slowly and carefully along the white line at the centre of the bridge closely followed by a police car.
'What are you doing?'
'Walking the white line'
'To prove to that lot that I'm not drunk'
My friends were told to take me home ,and the police drove off laughing ,or so I heard.
I pulled the bottle from the cork of the next and drank one sink out of it, and threw the rest down the glass. I pulled the sink out of the glass and poured the cork down the bottle. I then sink with the glass, bottled the drink and drank the pour.
Towards the end of my first marriage to a brutal , sadistic and abusive man, I found myself going down the road of alchoholism. I was drinking a bottle of 100% proof rum per day and could not see any way out, of either the marriage or the drinking. You don't see any solutions when you are looking at the bottom of a bottle. I was only 24 ,way to young to have any of this s**t being put onto me.
The answer came one day when I discovered that I was pregnant, this was the key to my drinking problem. Amazingly , I was able to stop and to never touch a drop again beyond the occassional glass at christmas.
The craving never really leaves you but I am strong enough to say no.
When I had everything emptied, I steadied the house with one hand, counted the glasses, corks,bottles and sinks with the other,which were 29 and as the house came by I counted them again, and finally had all the houses in one bottle,which I drank.
We have a ritual in our house on christmas eve, that is the day when hubbie has his 'night out' I stay home with the kids[ they are older now but still come by] When hubbie has a skinful he is so funny and ultra loving that I look forward to the night. One time he came home ,or at least opposite, we have a drive on a slope, definately needs negotiating. Anyway , standing opposite, hubbie scans the driveway and lights a fag, his shoulders go back and he is ready, and he's off ,beelines up the drive ,trips over a daisy and goes into raptures of laughter.
I JUST want to apologize, he says ,and promptly falls over.
I'm not under the affluence of incohol, as some tinkle peep I am. I'm not half as thunk as you might drink. I feel so feelish. I don't know who is me, and the drunker I stand here the longer I get. Now where's that drinkle of bot gone.?
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