The day before my first wedding (I married twice – both disasters that ended in two years) my entire extended family travelled for five hours to kick off the party with me.
My mother set a fancy table and cooked my favourite meal, but the guest of honour – yours truly – was a no-show.
I was drunk in a local pub. Hours later, after closing time, I would stagger through the door, barely able to stand up, as everyone else was heading to bed.
It wasn’t a one-off. Letting down friends and family (and myself) by drinking too much was a heartbreaking
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