I didn’t know I had a problem until I had a problem. Or, more specifically, I didn’t know I had a problem until I was face down on the cold, wooden floor of my living room, with tears running down my cheeks.
It’s 4am and I have just fallen over. Minutes ago I was asleep, in a fashion anyway. Just another of my nightly excursions; out of bed, around the flat, sometimes even out of the front door. I woke up tonight as I was falling, my face inches from the floor. As I sit there, bruised, crumpled, I try to remember the last night that hasn’t been curtailed by an accident, or being woken up by my wife because I am singing at the top of my lungs (bizarrely,…
