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I have an alcoholic staying with me in my flat in London. I went out on Wednesday, leaving him in the spare bed, and when I returned at 8pm he was still beneath the duvet.
He said he had man flu, but I saw he’d drunk a third of a bottle of gin, which I had hidden inexpertly in a cupboard.
So, to appear supportive, I set off in search of low or no-alcohol wine in my area of the capital. In Sainsbury’s Local, it took some time to explain to the chap stocking shelves â€" who seemed to speak no English, or any language at all, as he remained mute â€" what I was after.
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He shuffled backstage to emerge with a manager, who looked equally baffled.
Imagine Manuel when confronted with an irate Mrs Richards in Fawlty Towers. ‘Have you looked?’ he asked. ‘Well, I have looked but there are hundreds of bottles.’ He looked, too, but could find nothing.
So I went to a nearby Tesco Express. This shop is so disgustingly dishevelled, you might be mistaken for thinking you are in Romania.
Again, I peered at the bottles, trying to see if any were low alcohol. I had thought that, much as there is a Free From section for people allergic to wheat, there might be a similar set-up for those who are allergic to losing their loved ones.
But no. I was again up against a mute barrier, as the young man shuffling around had no idea what I was talking about when I said ‘free from alcohol’.
I tried to mime being drunk, then the word ‘bad’. Still no glimmer of comprehension. So I studied all the labels, and not one single option did I find.
I can only imagine were I desperate for a drink but trying to cut down my intake, what the effect of having to stare at all these lovely bottles would be on my resolve.
In the end, I had to go all the way to a mini Waitrose before I could find a wine with no alcohol at all. So, posh, affluent people, the sort who appreciate that this store sells Yorkshire Provender pea, spinach and mint soup, can reduce their alcohol intake, but the proles who surf Tesco and Sainsbury’s can rot.
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Anyway, I returned with my booty, which tasted disgusting but seemed to at least keep him off the gin, which I poured down the sink.
A few days before, the alcoholic in my life had been admitted to hospital. I had phoned to see what steps they were taking to cure my friend.
‘We can’t speak about a patient unless you tell us his date of birth.’ I had to admit I didn’t know it. Ooh, yes, I do! I gave the month and the day, but not the year.
‘Without the year, we can’t help you,’ the woman said. ‘It’s all about data protection.’
‘Oh-kay, but will he be able to get on a plane next week?’
‘We are discharging him today. Whether he goes abroad or not is his choice.’
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The NHS seems not to know how to deal with an alcoholic. They are merely intent on discharging them as quickly as possible; my friend emerged with nary a leaflet.
I’m reminded of when my oldest sister, Clare, also an alcoholic, was discharged, leg in plaster, into an empty corridor outside her flat, with no key, no care, no heating, not even a bottle of milk.
I imagine this scenario would drive anyone to reach again for the bottle.
I then called the airline he’s due to fly with. ‘My friend is catching one of your planes next week,’ I said. Silence. ‘And I was wondering if you could make sure the air hostess doesn’t give him any alcohol. A bit like a no-smoking area. Can you do that?’
‘They are no longer called air hostesses. And no. We can only stop someone from boarding if they are drunk. Is he drunk?’
‘Well, he’s not now.’ An image of the duty-free hall at Heathrow, with its rows of single malt whisky, swam before my eyes. Why does booze have to be so ever-present? Of course you can’t police an adult every second of every day, but you can make drinking more difficult, even if it seems now there will be no new minimum price.
I have already phoned ahead and primed the hotel where he will be staying to ‘please empty the mini bar’.
‘Of course, Madam.’
It’s a very posh hotel. It seems the richer you are, the easier it is to avoid getting drunk. If you shop in a mini Sainsbury’s or Tesco, the place the poorest people go as they can’t afford a car, it’s nigh on impossible to avoid getting drunk, if only because you are so depressed at the dirt, the lack of communication, and the sea of Easter eggs.
Don’t even get me started on how we as a nation are force-fed sugar...
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