About Time by Peter Pringle

Author:Peter Pringle
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780752491561
Publisher: The History Press
Published: 2012-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

9

When the boat was not out fishing and tied at the pier, we’d sometimes disappear ‘for a pint’ out of town. That in itself was not a problem. And we would only be away for a few hours. But it could become a binge and last for days. On one such binge, myself and my shipmate Art found ourselves in Galway drinking and neither of us had any memory of getting there. This was some five days later. We thought the boat must be at Galway docks and were surprised that we could not find it there. As luck would have it, a fisherman from Aran who was working on a boat in Killybegs happened along. He told us the Sheanne was actually in Killybegs, and we got a lift home with him. We made a laugh of it all. And I thought it was not unusual, that such things simply happened. I know now, however, that it was not at all normal. And on reflection, there was nothing funny about it.

When we had landed and put out our catch, it seemed the most natural thing to go to the pub for a pint or two. The repartee and camaraderie in the pub was somehow soothing and very enjoyable. It felt good to relax with friends over a few pints. It did not take much inducement to have another drink, just one more for the road. Sometimes that would do, and I’d go up home to my family for a few hours before we’d sail again. Unfortunately, though, that was not always the case, and I’d often find myself still drinking when it was time to go back to the boat. As booze got a grip on me it became much harder to leave the pub, or pass one by. It astonishes me today, as I look back, to realise that I did not seem to be aware of what was happening to me. I loved my wife, I loved my children, and loved being with them. Yet I could not forego a drink if opportunity arose.

Sometimes I could have one or two and go home. But, with increasing frequency, one or two drinks would set me off on a binge, which could last for days. I could go down the town to buy the newspaper, with no thought of drinking, and find myself in a pub with a whiskey in front of me. Or I could go into a pub to have one pint for the thirst, and end up on a binge lasting days, without knowing the how or the why of it, and not even seeing anything unusual about such behaviour. I did not understand it and I would become filled with shame and guilt, and huge anger at myself. I began to have blackouts; often I would not even remember going for a drink. I would come out of a blackout in a different premises, or even a different town, not knowing how I came to be there.

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