A funny thing happened last week. It was the evening, the weakest part of the day for me and the craving for a drink was strong. I was walking on the footpath, passing bars and cafés full of people socialising or, in other words, drinking. Crowds were spilling out on to the street, talking loudly, laughing heartily, the life and soul of the party. In that moment, I wondered how many of them would stop at one or two drinks and go home? Most of them I would say.
I envied them their ease and contentment at drinking alcohol. I know I would have gone home and opened a bottle if there wasn’t one already opened. I didn’t know when to stop. Or, if I did, I couldn’t. My years as a Catholic priest were a long winter of discontent - until Pope Francis arrived David Norris’s life in politics: ‘People had the idea that gay people are monstrous. I wanted them to see the human’ So, it was ironic that sitting on the DART later, still trying to quash the craving for alcohol, a drunk man would start trying to converse with me. He was the real deal, he even had the bottle in the brown paper ba
Alcohol Craving Bars Cafes Socializing Drunk Man Encounter
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