Sitting with my live in boyfriend, both drunk on a bottle of vodka each, but not drunk enough.
Look at the clock, panic, closing time, we've missed it.
We panic, we need more, thinks how to do this.
Go to a hotel, they're bound to have drink after hours. So we go, drive, to the nearest hotel, 3 star, nice place, we rock up drunk, trying to appear sober.
Book room, ring room service, ask for bottle of Vodka, get told it's £50 a bottle, forget the reason why, but for fuck sakes, £50 a fucking bottle man.
What did we do? We'd already paid over a ton for the room, we were that desperate we bought the bottle, and I added some Valium to the mix to at least get full benefit.
We were grubby, smelled of smoke, the guy looked disdainful, but left the bottle after being paid by cheque.
We started drinking, a row broke out, can't remember why, my live in boyfriend walked to the balcony, one floor up, next I heard crashing about in the trees below, I staggered up and looked over, saw him move and went back to lie on the bed to drink. He had jumped over but didn't know why.
For some reason I locked him out of the room, didn't want him back. He made his way back and started banging on the door, by this time I had emptied my pill bottle and hid the pills, throwing the empty bottle on the bed. I don't know why.
I let him in, he looked at the bottle and swore, asked me if I'd taken them, I just gazed at him, I could have answered but didn't. I don't know why.
He called an ambulance, lots of fuss early morning in hotel, they came and checked me out, I was ok.
I then slept.
We woke, feeling like death, stinking in clothes we'd slept in, stinking of booze and fags. We crept out, got in the car and drove home.
I knew I had to face my kids then, and their looks of disappointment and disgust. Felt like the worst shittiest mother in the world, basically I was.
That drink cost us near on £200, added to all the others caused a life time of regret. That's insanity!!
Showing posts with label Picture This. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Picture This. Show all posts
Friday, 6 May 2011
Monday, 25 April 2011
Picture This
A room, shrouded in gloom, no one had bothered to put the lights on, it was semi dark and layers of thick smoke hung in the air.
Everything was stained yellow, the furnishings grubby, old and threadbare. Two people sitting there, one man and one woman.
The woman on the chair, the man on the sofa, both had drink, glass, roll ups and over flowing ash trays to hand.
The woman had come from her home to drink, as this was her drinking buddy, someone she had met at the detox centre. She had brought draught vodka, the cheapest you can get. It tasted like paraffin, and took a good half the bottle till you couldn't taste it and didn't feel you were going to throw it back up.
The man was drinking special brew. He had just staggered to the shops with his last pennies, bought the beer and nicked a tin of sardines. It was one of those with a top like a cola can, where you flick it up and back and tear off the flip top. He just about managed it after a few minutes of trying, the oil spilling over him.
He lifted it to his mouth, no plates, no cutlery, just tipped it up and the woman watched as the oil spilled down his chin onto his shirt and trousers, already dirty and grimy. He managed to push the fish into his mouth with his fingers, half chewing and half gagging, taking swigs of special brew to get it down.
The woman continued to drink and roll up cigarettes, one after the other. They both sat in stony silence, drinking, smoking and him trying to wipe the mess from himself with the back of his hand.
He gave up and continued to drink.
The woman looked around, looked at him, thought of her children, felt absolute despair, self loathing and hopelessness and would cut her arms later to hurt herself. She hated herself and her life.
She loved her children, she had always wanted children, wanted to give them the best childhood, better than she had. She wanted them to have security, love and happiness.
SO WHAT THE FUCK WAS SHE DOING THERE?!
She cried self pitying tears. Not realising even this was not her personal rock bottom.
That woman was me!
I still can't tell you after all these years how I didn't stop drinking then, or why I didn't. I can't tell you how much I wished I had done.
Everything was stained yellow, the furnishings grubby, old and threadbare. Two people sitting there, one man and one woman.
The woman on the chair, the man on the sofa, both had drink, glass, roll ups and over flowing ash trays to hand.
The woman had come from her home to drink, as this was her drinking buddy, someone she had met at the detox centre. She had brought draught vodka, the cheapest you can get. It tasted like paraffin, and took a good half the bottle till you couldn't taste it and didn't feel you were going to throw it back up.
The man was drinking special brew. He had just staggered to the shops with his last pennies, bought the beer and nicked a tin of sardines. It was one of those with a top like a cola can, where you flick it up and back and tear off the flip top. He just about managed it after a few minutes of trying, the oil spilling over him.
He lifted it to his mouth, no plates, no cutlery, just tipped it up and the woman watched as the oil spilled down his chin onto his shirt and trousers, already dirty and grimy. He managed to push the fish into his mouth with his fingers, half chewing and half gagging, taking swigs of special brew to get it down.
The woman continued to drink and roll up cigarettes, one after the other. They both sat in stony silence, drinking, smoking and him trying to wipe the mess from himself with the back of his hand.
He gave up and continued to drink.
The woman looked around, looked at him, thought of her children, felt absolute despair, self loathing and hopelessness and would cut her arms later to hurt herself. She hated herself and her life.
She loved her children, she had always wanted children, wanted to give them the best childhood, better than she had. She wanted them to have security, love and happiness.
SO WHAT THE FUCK WAS SHE DOING THERE?!
She cried self pitying tears. Not realising even this was not her personal rock bottom.
That woman was me!
I still can't tell you after all these years how I didn't stop drinking then, or why I didn't. I can't tell you how much I wished I had done.
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