Today's P&L: GBP 210.00
Today's Booze: 8 pints of Cobra Lager, 2 bottles of Rioja, 3 Large Courvoisier
What a tedious day. The markets are all open but everyone seems reluctant to trade. I made some small money on a small GBP ten pounds per point long spread trade on the DAX30 through one of the UK's better known spread betting companies. Hopefully some volatility will return to the markets soon so I might get the chance to make some decent money.
Worst news I could have had is that my parents are paying a visit to gray old London tomorrow. I found this out through the stalker who has ingratiated herself. No doubt I will have to see them as it is my birthday on the sixth. That is something I can do without. It isn't that I have anything against my parents, on the contrary, I rather admire them. Its just that it has been a long time and I suspect that some ties that are broken cannot be fixed again. I often wonder what my parents make of me and my brothers. They are such tough people and have been through so much in their lives. I know they sacrificed so much for us but I for one have been nothing but trouble. I even infected my mother with some bad antibodies during birth as I have a rare blood group and she has the normal tap variety. Then growing up, it seems that whenever there was a problem, I was always the nexus - bad things just seem to gravitate towards me. To this day I remember whenever something bad happened my parents preparing themselves for the inevitable confession from me. A good Example was when I got the ship we were on in Nigeria impounded and the guy from the Office came aboard and said "some idiot was drinking and gambling with some insurgents on the ship last night". I sidled over to my father and said "I should tell you something" and my mother just shouted "I fucking knew it would be him".
That could be the story of my life "I fucking knew it would be him". Still my mothers a good sort, her motto regarding me would probably be forgiven not forgotten. As for the old man, I guess he just consoles himself with the idea that its every mans right to bury their son.
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8 comments:
This is so sad,Tony.If you love your parents please try to quit. You will break their hearts. As an ex-alcoholic (I stopped drinking after nearly thirty years of oblivion) I can say with certainty that the darkness does lift. It's like being a kid again. The intensity of the happiness is crazy...and yes the lows are still a regular happening but they go by. I don't believe in God but envy those who do. In a way though, if all you believe in is the here and now, there's more reason to hang around. Life is good.
I have been reading your posts (some of which I find heartbreaking) and I have wanted to say what 'Anonymous' said - please try to quit. I haven't said it thus far because you must be tired of hearing that. And because you don't want to quit -otherwise you would. I feel like I have come to know you a little through your writing and dare I say it, I have started to care about you (more than you probably care about yourself)..Ok, I'll stop now before you start to hate me. Be nice to your parents and happy birthday for tomorrow.
Kitty x
Thanks for your comments Anonymous and Kitty, I do try and take these things on board.
You know its funny, I expected lots of offensive comments from anyone who bothers to read what I write. My view on blogs is that if you make an opinion you should air the response, no matter how personal or offensive. What I didn't expect was the kindness of strangers. I am not afraid to admit I have a low opinion of people in addition to my willfully nihilistic nature and yet people surprise me with their humanity. This isn't a blog bleating about how hard done by I feel. I am well aware by most peoples standards I have had a good life and I am not looking for sympathy. Everything I write here is true and the reason it is based around my alcohol consumption is that it has been such a big part of my life for so long. In real life I am compelled to lie about my drinking. The stalker asks have I drunk today and I can lie without a heartbeat. I am not one of those drunks who lies to himself, I lie to protect the feelings of others. So I admit how much I drink here and to my doctors. My parents have long since prepared themselves for news of my death, of course it isn't exactly the kind of thing they are looking forward too but it won't come as a huge surprise to them. At the same time they have seen me pull myself out of some impossible situations so there is a feeling that perhaps I am indestructible. I didn't see them for twenty years and my mother was rather shocked to see me hospitalized. All I know is my parents will be prepared for the worst, my brother perhaps not so much. I suppose it is difficult for a parent to steel them self for that news, especially one who seems such a good one as you Kitty. I cant even imagine the responsibility you have. By the way Anonymous, if I may ask how old are you? You had thirty years on the grog, which is more or less as long as I have been regularly drinking, (yes started when I was ten but didn't get serious until my teenage years). If your in the mood to share a few secrets I would love to know why you quit.
It's my first time on your blog, so I'm not going to say anything about quitting - though I almost feel I should.
However, I will say that I liked the post and I LMAO at the last line...
‘As for the old man, I guess he just consoles himself with the idea that its every mans right to bury their son.’
I'll definitely be back
Hi Toni, just came by to wish you a happy new year. I always enjoy reading your posts. I wish you a very happy birthday as well. And naturally, I wish you much, much love.
xoxo
Good luck with the parents =)
Toni, you asked so I'll try to explain. It's so simple really. I didn't want to die and I knew that time was running out. Having tried to give up more times than I can count, waking up in the early hours and knowing that was it for me sleepwise, praying to a God I had never believed in to help me stop this self -destruction, and then come morning, having a change of mindset and starting to drink again.
My background is eerily similar to yours. Middle-class, surrounded by booze. I had access to the drinks cabinet from an early age and no-one ever noticed what went missing. My father was a whiskey drinking doctor (but always very controlled) my mother a gin and tonic/sherry imbiber. Everyone who visited our house, even at ten in the morning was offered a drink...and they didn't mean coffee.That's the good old days for you. What you drank was your own business and nobody was judgemental. The fact is that most people didn't drink, at least not in the home.
I was one of five children. Usually described as 'wild'. Went to Ampleforth (you've probably heard of it) on a half scholarship, so I saved the folks some money. Went on to Oxford. Had a ball. Drank continuously....for twenty five years. Started to feel like shit. Couldn't straighten up, walk, think straight. My colleagues all knew and it wasn't because I was upfront about anything. They knew but pretended ignorance. For a long time I was protected. Inevitably, the downward spiral continued. I knew I couldn't stop drinking so I didn't try. Take as you find.
Anyway, at some point it wasn't viable anymore. I looked like shit. I was making mistakes. Kind people were losing patience. Do you know, I didn't really care.
So like I said, Here I was..a selfish bastard through and through. I have three grown up sons
and I'd seen them through the school years. They went to LSE and Oxford and generally did all the right stuff. Fortunately, the self-destruct gene didn't appear to be part of their make-up.
I also have a daughter. She is a little 'wild'. She did not do the right stuff. One morning, she came up and lay down next to me on the bed. My head was throbbing, I was sick, my bones ached, my back was in spasm. It turns out that she'd been listening to me in the night.
She asked me to stop. She said she couldn't survive without me. I recognised the emotional blackmail but I didn't doubt her sincerity. She promised that if I would try to give up that she would look after herself.
I know this sounds very pat, maybe trite, but it's true. I haven't had a drink in five years. I call myself an ex-alcoholic despite being told that this is an oxymoron. I exercise madly, mostly running and swimming. I eat well.
I live every day like it's my last. I am fifty-one years old. My daughter is seventeen. Predicted five A grades at 'A' level, she hopes to go to Cambridge next year.
I want to live. I want to be there when she graduates. My life is lived in five year blocks. I don't look too far ahead.
I've heard it said so many times that you have to give up for yourself. In my case, that was not true. I gave up for the love of another person and let's be honest, because I'm scared to death(ha-ha) of my own mortality, so it's a bit of both. I had lots of help.
Medication, nutrition, counselling. No way could I have coped alone.
The first few weeks are the worst.
Go on, I dare you.
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