East London Archives of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Being young was tough. Mum was a psychopath and hated me. She terrorised me. Sometimes she’d be ok, other times she’d be in a rage. It wasn’t a nice place for me and my two sisters, it was mental torture. The physical side stopped when I was big enough to stick up for myself, but It was more mental. My mum was ill, I get that and accept it now and part of her is in me, especially the temper. She never did anything in front of my Dad. He was a good bloke and it was strange, he worked nights so missed a lot of things. 

At 16 I got a job in print, earning good money. I never wanted to go home, so I’d hang around the City to drink, it was as simple as that. I suffer from depression and was very emotionally detached not wanting to be around people. Sitting in pubs on my own at that age, I’d leave the house, go to work, get drunk and live a life in bars. It was murder, my teenage life wasn’t nice, no idea how I’m still alive, feeling like I’m walking around with a blanket over my head. I went from a reasonably normal boy to this stage with alcohol. I have no idea what came first, depression or the drink, but they went hand in hand. That time I should have moved out.

Anyway, I left the job in print around 1967, on the way home I saw a recruiting van for the Paras. I didn’t know who they were, thinking it’s the regular army. A few months down the line I had to get out of the house. I was drinking heavily and unemployed, so I sent off the application form and ended up getting in, it saved my life. The weird thing was I was a hippy, well, I thought I was a hippy. I’d go to demonstrations in London such as legalise cannabis and ones against Vietnam. I was an anarchist, a strange mixture to join the army. An Anarchist Hippy.

Since the Second World War no British soldier had been killed in active service. I was convinced there’d be no more conflict as human beings had surely learned their lesson. I believed it and many of us did. All the colonial stuff had finished and this was the summer of love, in 1969 I joined the Paras. We went out on a Saturday for a few beers and I was toning my drinking down, occasionally having a blowout. Social drinking was getting drunk and having fights; I loved it. On this Sunday morning, we got the call for Belfast. I tell you what, If I was on a ship, I’d have jumped…but I was on a plane and couldn’t get out and all I could think was what have I done? I wanted to tell the sergeant I’m not meant to be here, I’m here for my drink problem, not to fight.

I was there for three years, two tours and one two-year tour from the beginning of the troubles to when it got really bad. I was a 19-year-old from London surrounded by people who wanted to rip me apart. While there I met my wife, so it wasn’t all bad by bagging the best woman in Belfast, she came back to London with me, I wanted to get out of the army when the tour was finished and bought myself out, so I can be with my wife, my daughter who was born while I was in Belfast.

I found it difficult getting into civilization upon leaving the army, the world was hard and different, my drinking got back to being out of control. After a while, me and the wife had a big row, because I spent the rent money again, she had enough and went back to Belfast. I didn’t have a pot to pee in. It turned out I was suffering from PTSD and didn’t know; it wasn’t spoken about at the time. Over the years there has been great help out there. Anyway, I needed a job. My Dad said how about the fire brigade, I didn’t want to as I had enough of the blood and guts and stuff but went and joined. My drinking was still not regulated. Mick, who worked at the station, was sober and started telling me and the guvnor about AA. My ears pricked up about having a solution, I didn’t think I could be an alky as my guvnor said I wasn’t one. I believed him, he had qualifications, you know. My governor was pleased Mick stopped drinking, saying he’s much more confident in himself and the job. 

I phoned A.A. I cried for the first time since I was 12 years old. The fella said there’s a meeting on Friday in a church in Ilford…I said I’m not going to no church; I was very anti-religion. He asked if I wanted anyone to come round, I said no, thinking there’d be a white transit van with AA in big gold letters, not wanting that round my gaff. I ended up going on my own to St Barnabas church in East Ham on a Monday night.

The secretary was a guy named Denis, the bloke doing the chair was a local called Gus, I listened to him, thinking you can’t scare me mate, I’m an effin, Para…I was off my rocker. Denis, who since died, came up to me, gave me some literature and said to come back next week…I read it and thought effin God…but I stayed and after two weeks, I drank, I kept booze in the house, sometimes drank with Mick, the same stuff just kept happening. Finally, I went back to the meeting at East Ham and ‘Plaistow’ Bill was there doing the chair, it was his first meeting back from drinking again.

My meetings were Monday East Ham, Tuesday St Clements, Wednesday Toynbee Hall, and Thursday Barking. On Fridays we didn’t have one in the East End apart from Ilford Methodist hall in Ilford Lane, but didn’t go because it was a posh……affluent area 40 odd years ago. I got a sponsor, a bloke called Glen, I wasn’t right…Glen sponsored my pal Phil who was 18 months in longer than me. Phil was a good man, such a funny sod, smashing bloke and great to be around, as I needed a lot of help.

The Big Book was hard to read for me, the words, the Americanism and all that was too tough for my mind. I could handle the Living Sober book as it gave me practical ideas. I took on service at meetings such as treasurer, then after 8 years sober, I stopped going to meetings, this old guy said to me, why are you here? You’re a young man, with a family you don’t need to be in these meetings. I didn’t mean to leave, it just built up. I was playing different sports every day and didn’t go for two years. I felt strong, was still working in the fire service, then I injured my back and couldn’t play sports, I got depressed, no one from the sports clubs got in touch and learned a valuable lesson when I went back to a meeting. Mick was back in AA at this stage, he pointed out I need to accept others. When people talk about mums and other areas of life that’s different to mine, it was time for me to accept that I didn’t know what they’re talking about, and that’s ok. I got back involved, taking on treasurer at the Ilford meeting for something like ten years, Joe E was still there, he was as good as gold, He used to say about the preamble “I’m not sure about this preamble, no Jews or thieves, I’m not sure how the thieves feel about this, but I’m Jewish and I feel quite insulted” everyone laughed.

I took on Public Information at Intergroup and loved it. I was secretary, treasurer, sponsored other guys and stayed at my local meetings. Having good men around me like ‘Little’ John from the East End. Johnny Q came in about 18 months before me, ‘Young’ Peter who is 51 years sober, lives in Worthing. I felt comfortable with these blokes. Australian Terry, who isn’t Australian but got sober in Sydney. He’s 47 years sober now, when I met him, I didn’t have much to do with him; different paths and that, now, we get on great.

Over the years A.A. has gotten better with fewer interruptions and more young people, I came in at 26 years old and it was full of old people. The good thing is, people speak their mind, especially a lot of the women who stick up for each other, like ‘Scottish’ Angie. She’s great, she’ll let you know if you’ve overstepped the mark. I’m 43 years a day at a time without a drink. I don’t know my exact sobriety date; all I know is I love being sober, love it, AA saved my life. I have two great kids, amazing grandchildren. Being sober has helped me deal with PTSD and depression. A.A. saves lives like mine. I feel younger now than I did back in the day and still learning about this life stuff.

This was done September 2019 just after the East London Convention