Morning! One of my greatest joys is waking up without a hangover. Back in my drinking days my mornings inevitably became ones of waking up feeling physically and mentally crap and exhausted. Why had I got drunk again? What had I done the night before (blackouts)? Then the usual ritual would begin……. dry retching, and endless bouts on the toilet. I’d be exhausted from waking at 3am and not being able to get back to sleep, full of feelings of panic, anxiety and paranoia, feelings that sat like a cloud over me all day, every day, until that first drink. That insane merry-go-round (although not so bloody merry; more miserable-go-round!). I’d make myself a promise never to drink again but that ‘wine witch’ would start nagging “go on it’ll make you feel better”, “hair of the dog”, “you need it to get”, “you deserve it” and on and on and on. And the fairground ride would once again see me sat precariously on it.