My eyes felt glued together as I regained my grip on the grey morning, pulling myself out of the salty water of sleep as all weightlessness dissapeared, as it did so I hurled again, this time underneath my bed.

"There goes my intestines" I thought dryley to myself. Grandad was already awake and pottering about downstairs, his reedy singing voice was piercing the floorboards along with the radio to which my head lay to close, hovering above the infernal mess that also lay on the floor.

There comes a point in an addicts life, especially a secret addict whereby forgotten memories become the norm and whereas before i would have spent guilt ridden days trying to remember what I managed in my state the night before now I commited it to that dusty closet of my subconscious and locked it shut.

So after showering and looking myself in the eye all I could do was put my church dress on and remember to forget my other life as I preached to the Sunday Schoolers.

After all, when it came to ecumenical matters, hypocracy was the only way.

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