10.17 train to Edinburgh to meet a sober friend for a coffee. I'm nervous but excited.
Manny (a scottish man) drinks bottle Buckie (buck fast fortified wine) For his breakfast. Google it you'll be scared.
It's potent stuff. I've never had it but its hot s fierce reputation.
Drinking from the bottle train Full of Bairns and families. Sad. Poor fella before I'd have felt odd, now I feel so sad
I chatted to him about life, the weather, nothing really. We shared a table seemed rude not to talk to him. He was jovial but bitter. Loud but not offensive. A fair few eyebrows raised. A few bairns moved to inside seats.
A man in the opposite seat offered to swap with me if I wanted a different view, I declined but thanked him for his kindness.
The drunk man kept chatting and swigging. I'm not judging don't think I am. He's lost his family, his job, he's sofa surfing. There but for a moment, our lives intermingled. I thought to myself I'm probably not too different to you. I just got off my downward drinking spiral earlier.
I offered to recycle the empty bottle for him. Hardly a help but all I could do. Explaining to my husband why I have an empty bottle of Buckie in my rucksack, a whole other story. It came home with me, no recycling in town that I saw easily.
I'm so glad I'm Sober 87 days. That could have been me. Maybe that's why I wanted to recycle the bottle. Who knows what goes on in my crazy mind.
Hugs, back soon folks.
Pop over to Lucy to read more stuff about scots and booze. It's shocking.