A ball of wool.

My names ……….. and I’m an alcoholic.
Little did I know how life would turn out.
Some people have their lives mapped out by career choices. With a manageability that’s been handed down through their parents. Other people’s home situations have a bearing on their lives. And most people have been in some way guided by teachers at school.
We’ve all been moulded by the people, places and things in our lives.
Which often influence where we eventually go to in life.
I had no guidance from the teachers at school. None.
My home life was far from manageable.
I was pretty well left to fend for myself.
And my career choices, eventually morphed into one.
To make a few ‘Bob’ for myself. To make a few ‘bob’ meant to make some money.
I was going to have a career in property investment.
A ‘Bob’ is what we now call a five pence piece.
One ‘Bob’ had twelve pence in then. Today it has five.
In cubs we had an annual fund raising week called ‘Bob a job week’.
With the term ‘Bob’ being slang for what it’s real name was, which was a shilling.
A shilling a job.
Hence the term ‘The Queens shilling’.
I usually managed to raise over a pound.
That’s 20 jobs.
It was always a bit of competition with us Cubs to see who might raise the most.
I vaguely remember some boys had raised over three pound’s on their Bob a job card. An amazing amount of money then.
And not an unusual amount in the mid-sixties for a week’s wages.
After each job we completed, we handed the homeowner a little yellow, self-adhesive paper sticker, that they duly stuck in the front window of their home, to ‘warn’ other enthusiasts cubs, not to ask at that address again.
One of the things we did at home, as children, was to carefully up pick old woollen pullovers, and rewind the unpicked wool into balls, ready to be reused.                                                       
These would then be re knitted into new pullovers, mittens and Balaclavas. For us children.
We grew up wearing Fair Isle and Aaron pullovers, mittens, attached by pieces of string up through the sleeves of our duffel coats.
And the Balaclavas, which were to keep our heads warm. But not dry.
Wet soggy Balaclavas were horrible. And useless.
Reusing the wool was a very 1960s thing to do to save a few ‘Bob’.
Unpicking those old pullovers was a job we did for years. They usually came from hand me downs, or what was left over from our cubs and scout ‘jumble sales’. We took the old pullovers and knitted things home to be reused. It was the equivalent to our modern day recycling.
I don’t think we had any such words then as ‘recycling’.
We took the old, the discarded, the unwanted and worn out, and turned it into something new and useful.
And in a way, that’s exactly what AA did to me.
It took a dishevelled, worn out and tattered alcoholic, unpicked me bit by bit. Reused what was worth keeping and turned me into a useful member of society.
AA helped make me to look a bit smarter and sorted out the rough old bits.
Recycling Anonymous would have been a good name for AA.  A new environmentally friendly name.
Because that’s what AA does best.
It saved what was worth keeping of me.
And with the breath of kindness, blew the rest away.
My sobriety is now decades down the line but it’s still in the recycling centre.
I’m still a work in progress.
Things are looking a lot better today, than they ever did.
When I meet a newcomer in a meeting, it’s not unusual to think that they need a wash and brush up. Some clean cloths. Maybe a haircut, and a visit to the dentist.
All the things I needed in my early days.
It took a lot of tears and a lot of years to re knit me into something that was warm and comfortable. Something more akin to a useful Dad and useful husband.
I had my teeth done. It all took years. I bought some new cloths, and I wore shoes without holes in.
And if you need a haircut, as I did, go and see the only person who can help you in your time of need, and that’s my friend Eddie in Bath.
He’s a brilliant hairdresser.
He’ll see you alright.
He’ll turn you into looking a million dollars.
He’s also a member of AA.
So, whilst he’s sorting your hair out, with a few kind words and some of his amazing advice, he’ll probably sort your head out as well.
It’s funny how an old ball of wool, taken from a discarded pullover, can turn itself into something as wonderful as a pullover.
Already for a new life in this world.
So, if you’re feeling as I did, like a nothing, do yourself a favour.
Call AA and ask if there’s anyone who can unpick you bit by bit.
And reassemble you, into someone that’s worth living in this world.
Or if you find yourself in Bath, just go to a meeting and ask for Eddie. And say I sent you. 

Anon