No one knows when it started or why it started. It just sort of started. Gradually. If you could have seen him back in the day, you would hardly know him as the man you see slouched in the corner over there. Devoted husband. Loving father. He walked away from them you know. Staggered away more like. They’ve never got over it. Rotten sod.
He always liked a beer or two, who doesn’t. Life and soul of the party was our Mac. But one day the booze set him on a downhill slope. You see that glass he’s clutching now? You know what’s in it? Absinthe. Absinthe Blue. Seventy-eight percent you know. Yep. Seventy-eight bloody percent!
Just look at him slouched in the corner. No, not him, me. Look at me. I’m not just mumbling to myself, mumbling about myself. Seeing myself as others see me. Ashamed of what I’ve become. I could give it up. It would be easy. ‘My name is Mac and I’m an alcoholic’. Loud applause. ‘Well done Mac’. You’ve jumped the first hurdle’ Bugger that. Load of do-gooders. I’m all right. I am, aren’t I? Yes, I’m all right. I’m….I’m…..can somebody help me, please? Where have you all gone? Is there anybody there? Please?