Alcohol was a major part of my life, but it was always under control, or so I fooled myself. It was later on in life, as the stresses seemed to be progressively becoming worse, that the control slipped. There may have been a catalyst somewhere in my life that enhanced the problems to the point of the almost tragic choice I made, was it the drinking, smoking, or both, or is it the simple fact that I needed these crutches to cope with life and needed them more and more rather than they are the cause and effect? I cannot say which is why I felt that my wife's views were an important addition to this book. This is not simply an account of life in the UK and France, not just a diary of a nobody; it is our story of the effects of alcohol on personal relationships, the shattering of hopes and dreams, the events which lead to an attempted suicide and to an awakening before it was too late to turn back. I have no professional qualifications in psychology or psychiatry but forty odd years of life trapped in a bottle must have taught me something, or has it?