For a few years now some people, my boss, some friends, my mother, my GP and especially my wife, had been telling me that I had a drink problem and, up till now, I had managed to ignore them. Now I was in a psychiatric ward, feeling like s*%$ and a psychiatrist is sitting opposite me telling me that I have liver damage, brain damage and if I continue to drink I have six months to live. Even for me, that was difficult to ignore. Fortunately I didn’t ignore him and that was the real beginning of recovery. That was in August 1984.
When I came out of hospital I was not in a great state. My wife had left me and was not coming back, who could blame her she had tried for years to change me without success. I was heavily in debt, so the marital house had to be sold to pay the bank.