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 08:23:54)
There's something wrong with me chemically Something wrong with me inherently,The wrong MIX In the wrong genes, I reached the wrong ends By the wrong means, It was the wrong plan In the wrong hands,The wrong theory for the wrong man,The wrong eyes On the wrong prize,
The wrong questions with the wrong replies. Wrong.