Staring down at my phone, I felt panic welling up inside. It was the morning after the night before, and a colleague had texted to say she needed ‘a break from me’ after the way I’d behaved. Yet again, I’d woken up with no recollection of what I’d done.
I was 13 and growing up in Epsom, Surrey, in 2003, when I first sipped an alcopop. Immediately, I loved the way it made me feel. I began drinking every weekend, hiding it by staying with friends.
My younger brother, Matthew, now 28, and mum, Linda, 60, barely drank, but my dad Robert, 60, struggled with a lifelong alcohol addiction and would often embarrass Mum at parties.
When I went to Swansea University in 2008 to study Geography, I’d drink a…
