When I was twenty five and had been in the job for seven years the company closed down and I suddenly became unemployed. In the same way that the three weeks off had started the problems, this new change of circumstances was the beginning of me sorting myself out. I received a generous redundancy payment as this was the days of union power and workers being treated decently. I worked out that, with this and my savings, I had no immediate need to worry about money. Other than rent, bills, food and cheap crates of supermarket beer I had no expenses and calculated that I could survive for at least a year before I had to worry about my lack of income. I didn't want to endure the indignity of signing on and I didn't really need to.
And so I found myself in an entirely new situation. I didn't have to get up in the morning, I didn't have to go anywhere or do anything, I was totally free. I realised how tired I had become so I stayed in bed for a few days and slept around fifteen hours a day. I was too tired to even go out to the shop and so, by default, I stopped drinking.
After a week or so I woke up one morning about ten o'clock and my body was telling me that I had had enough sleep. It was time to get out of bed and do something with my life. Without even thinking about it I got up and had a shower, shaved and put on clean clothes. I felt restless but in a positive way - I had the urge to get out and do something.
I walked into town and, walking past a concert venue, discovered that a band I liked was playing that night. I went in and bought one of the few remaining tickets, having never seen live music before. There was seven hours to kill until the concert began and there seemed little point in going back home and sitting around waiting so I decided that I would have a day out instead.
I had barely read anything for the last five years but now felt a compulsion to visit a bookshop. I bought a paperback novel and went to a cafe to have some lunch. For over an hour I sat and read and drank tea. Then I bought a sandwich and a can of orange pop and went to the large park in the middle of the city centre. By the time I realised that I needed the toilet it was gone five o'clock and I had read more than half of the book.
I put the paperback in my jacket pocket and walked to the public toilets. I still had more than two hours to kill and it was starting to rain so I ducked into a burger bar, ordered a large tea and fries, installed myself in a quiet corner and finished the book. Looking at my watch I saw that the venue doors were now open so I made my way over.
Standing in the foyer there was still half an hour to go. I looked around wondering what to do and saw that nearly everyone was standing around drinking. It hit me like a hurricane that not only had I not had a drink in nearly a week, I had not thought about alcohol either. Still, it would be boring just standing around so I went to the bar and got a pint of lager.
Normally it would take only a few seconds for a pleasant wave to wash over me, but this time the drink tasted odd. I persevered but, after ten minutes, I had only managed a third of the pint and realised that I wasn't enjoying it. Was I suddenly a teetotaller? What the hell was going on?
People were beginning to drift in so I followed suit and made my way to my seat. The concert was amazing, though I couldn't believe how loud it was and I could barely hear any of the vocals. It was an energizing experience that I would definitely be repeating as soon as possible.
After it had finished I battled my way through the crowds and had an entirely new experience. I was sober among a lot of drunk people and I found them incredibly annoying, even frightening. Was that how people had been looking at me for the last five years? I shuddered at the thought. It was with huge relief that I got out of the town centre and away from the drunken mob.
When I got home I stayed up most of the night thinking and writing down ideas. I never declared that I wouldn't drink again but I certainly wasn't going to go back to my previous way of life. Now that my head was clear and I had some perspective I found it very hard to believe that I had been like that for so long.
The following day I went back into town and bought ten more books and some new clothes. I vowed that I would never again let myself go like that and determined that I would finally begin to do something worthwhile with my life.
My poor diet and alcohol intake had added about two stone to my stomach so the first thing I decided to do was get fit. I would get up at eight o'clock every morning (including Sundays - now that I wasn't drinking I was sleeping normally and had no desire or need to stay in bed), shower and shave and be out of the flat by ten.
I started going for long walks, tried running but didn't take to it, before giving cycling a go. I hadn't ridden a bike for over ten years so I went to a shop and had a look around. I opted for a mountain bike because I fancied the idea of going out in the countryside rather than just pounding the streets and fighting the traffic.
Within a couple of weeks I was cycling around thirty miles a day and loving every minute of it. I bought some maps and looked for new places to go and it quickly became my main activity. The weight fell off and after three months I was very fit.
I went to see a lot of bands and began buying music magazines. I also began to frequent the library and borrow two or three novels each week. During one of these visits I happened to glance at a prospectus for the local university. I had never been bothered about higher education when I was in school but now I began to consider it. In those days not only was university free, they actually paid you to go. I didn't want to go straight into another office job and couldn't think of anything else to do with myself. My money wouldn't last indefinitely so I would have to make a decision at some point.
I took the prospectus, found a chair in a quiet corner and sat down to leaf through it. I looked in another book at the level of grant I would get as a mature student. I worked out that by doing some kind of summer job I could just about make it through the three years of a degree and keep my flat going. Suddenly it seemed like the right thing to do and so I began to swot up on the application process and entry requirements. My A-levels were okay buy nothing spectacular. I noted, however, in the section for mature students that work experience counted towards gaining a degree place. I had been working with computers for seven years and was aware that they were becoming increasingly important in the work place, and society in general. At the time computers were just beginning to be linked together and a very, very crude version of the internet was being used by a tiny number of people. Surely if I did a computer science degree, that and my previous experience would enable me to get a pretty good job somewhere in three years time. Instinctively it just felt right, that this was what I should be doing, so I made a note of all the details and decided to apply to the local university. It was about eight miles from my flat but I could easily cycle there. The following day I wrote off for the application form.
Another reason I was now keen to become a student was that I was a twenty five year old virgin with no friends and no social life of any kind. I had spent so long hiding from the world and avoiding people that it was now a matter of urgency that I reintegrate myself into normal society.
However the idea of going from nought to sixty in four seconds, from my current life to the first day of a degree course, was terrifying. I needed a way to ease myself in. It sounds pathetic but I needed to practise being among people again. It was another eight months before the course would start, assuming I was accepted, so I signed up for a number of evening classes. I chose the subjects almost at random: cookery so I could make proper, healthy meals; study skills, to help with my university application; and bicycle maintenance, to maintain my bicycle.
The cookery course proved a mistake. Everyone else in the class was middle-aged, middle class, female, and deeply suspicious of me. Except for one, who clearly wanted to take me home with her. I persevered for the second week but I wasn't learning anything useful so I cut my losses and bailed.
Bicycle maintenance proved much more useful and I ended up joining a club of people who went out every Sunday on dirt trails and country
side paths. It was the first social activity I had engaged in for years and it did me the world of good. I made some genuine friends and we began going on evening rides during the week in twos and threes. One of those friends was female but she was thirty seven and married so no romantic opportunity there, but I used her to practise trying to be normal around women. After a few weeks I began to feel normal, as if I fitted in and belonged with these people.
Study skills was the one that really changed my life. That was where I met the woman I would marry.