oh well a few last whimsical tales from mr chips....
i remember when i first moved to brentwood and had to keep up my N.A meetings.. i found on on the internet a meeting on the east ham estate brentwood, a real backwater, spent ages driving around getting lost...(adjust glasses ronnie corbett style),
in total blackness i saw a sea cadet hut with the light on, fack me ive found it. on the way in i could here 'achy breaky heart'' and loads of women going in as calamity jane look a likes and old blokes looking like lee an cleef.
scratching ny head, as this wasnt your normal narcotic annonoymos crowd , i walked in and sat down, had a cup of tea and watched wyatt erp dance with doc holliday and dolly parton,,it was 45 mins until some one come up to me and asked if i wanted to join in, up until then i thought it was some king of progressive therapy through country music.....it was a fucking line dancing class. NA HAD LEFT THE BUILDING 18 MONTHs PREVIUOSLY.
i stayed to the end and played the plastic spoons, until jo came to pick me up all the old girls were hanging on to me as i left begging me to come back the following week with some spurs
it fuckin worked , havnt touched it since!!
Last edited by EDWARDTHECONFESSOR (Wednesday Jul 2014 16:23:54)
"Your John , I ain't your John. You don't know me at all. Mend the fuses, fix the car, mow the lawn; it's boring. You think that's me. It's all bollocks. ..House, babies. I'm my John... me... I'm different."