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"All Christmases now are eclipsed by the memory of 'that' Christmas, when I was having a 'bad time.' I was drinking heavily — so much so, that I was having to be ferried to social functions, already inebriated, by helpful and stalwart friends. I had also moved back in with my parents temporarily. It was the first Christmas since my grandad had died, too, so my Nan was obviously staying with us.

I would wake, deeply hungover, to the sound of her sobs, before going downstairs and pouring myself another rum and water. My Mam questioned why I was drinking so early, much to my annoyance, as I drunkenly cut straight through the sprouts I was supposed to be making crosses in the bottom of.

She was also making comments about the drug use of my sister's ex partner, so I spat back about her being no angel. When questioned further by my seemingly oblivious mother, I went two feet in, about my sister's own drug use. So that Christmas consisted, mainly, of family upset. They've got better since - Mostly!"

Sam
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