Last night at 7:30 pm we left M’s father and brother at the port for them sailing home. It was a great relief. My initial thoughts detailed in “Family Visit” were on target. Friday we collected them at the port and drove the hour back home. M’s brother could not wait to start, or should I say, carry on drinking, which he did as though his life depended on it, quite literally inhaling the beer. However, I looked past this as I knew it would be like this and carried on with the evening. Eventually, everyone went to bed just before midnight as it had been a long day for them.
Saturday came, and M’s dad was up and about clattering about the kitchen at 6 am, so being a good host I got up and made tea, chatted then made breakfast for everyone. We went to Liverpool as M’s dad wanted to see both of the cathedrals there, which I was happy to take them to. Talk of going for Lunch at the docks was made, and his brother, being a complete ass hole said he, M and his dad could go and have lunch and bring something to me when they had finished as I had the dogs with me. I thought you cheeky bastard, so I have to sit and be a taxi, so he can go and get more drink down his neck. Needless to say, M was not happy about this and told him that this was not going to happen. Eventually, I took us to a pub on the river, and as it was a nice sunny day I said we can sit outside and eat (as lots of other people were doing) and the dogs could sit in the sun rather than in the car. This was met with complete disdain and they decided they wanted to sit inside. I left all the windows and the sun roof open and went in reluctantly, after about 10 minutes, I went outside and checked on the dogs and gave them another drink and made sure they were okay. His brother was throwing the beer down his neck at a rate of knots by this time, and I knew this was his real reason for being there. I went back in ate some of my lunch and walk out after about 10 minutes as I was not going to leave the dogs any longer stuck in the back of a hot car and took them for a walk. About 20 minutes later they came out, M had a face of thunder as he was totally pissed off that they were not listening.
His brother decided that he needed to go to the docks and look round the shops there and get the kids presents (why I have no idea as they were only away for a few nights), and dropped in the conversation that he wanted to go and watch the match at one of the Irish pubs. I assured him that I was not going to sitting about until 6 pm waiting on him and he would have to get the train back. M’s dad did not seem to agree with my thinking, but I was not going to stand for it. I dropped him off close to the pub and took us all back home.
Just after 6 pm, M’s brother sent a text to say he was about to get the train and would see us all soon. But again, rather than doing that, he decided to go to the pub by the station and carry on drinking, this time vodka, and after about 40 minutes finally got on the train.
Close to 8 pm I made us all dinner, which was not really eaten by M’s brother with the excuse that the fish he had at lunch had filled him and his stomach was suffering because of it. I found this laughable as he had drunk that much beer and vodka that this was more likely the reason for him being full and ill.
As soon as I started cleaning up, M’s brother decided he had to go to the shops and get some more beer. Now the shop is 5 minutes walk, take that into account both ways and say 5 minutes in the shop he should have been gone for 15 minutes, however, that time was doubled and we think he had gone into the village bar and had a few more drinks on his way.
Again he was literally inhaling the beer when he got back, but rather than drink one, put the empty can in the bin and get another one, he decided to have two on the go at the same time, obviously wanting to keep both hands exercised. No one else was drinking, but that did not phase him at all. Then he kicked his “spare” beer across my new carpet. I only noticed as one of the dogs started lapping it all up. This really was the last straw for me, and I exploded. I have a very short temper and do not suffer fools or drunks. He told me he would clean it up, I laughed in his face, and pushed past him and cleaned it up properly, and spot shampooed the carpet. I could not hide my hate for this man and wanted to break his neck and kick him out. About 15 minutes later he decided to go to bed, but I think this was because he could see my anger.
Last time he was at our home, 13 years ago, he and his wife decided to start fighting, which I would not allow in my house, he thought he would try his luck with me, so I pinned him against the wall by his neck pulled back my fist and told him one more word and I would beat the living daylights out of him. He had disrespected us and our house, not just fighting, but dropping lit cigarettes as he was that drunk.
Sunday, their final day came, he finally got out of bed at 10 am and told M that he could not go to Liverpool today. M asked him what made him think we were going to ferry him there again, and that that was never going to happen again. I needed to go to the farm and get more milk, walk the dogs and go to the farmers’ supermarket for a few bits. They all came with me, but he decided that he needed to go shopping for things for the kids. M told him to go up the road and get what he needed there as we were not going to have a repeat of yesterday. As soon as we got back he decided that he needed a beer to “level him out”, it was just after 1 pm, and of course one is never enough for an alcoholic, and after 3 he ate a bit of his lunch and decided to go back to bed as he was tired. When he eventually go up again, he went straight to the fridge and got more beer, and this went on until we left for the port.
I needed to go to the farm and get more milk, walk the dogs and go to the farmers’ supermarket for a few bits. They all came with me, but he decided that he needed to go shopping for things for the kids. M told him to go up the road and get what he needed there as we were not going to have a repeat of yesterday. As soon as we got back he decided that he needed a beer to “level him out”, it was just after 1 pm, and of course one is never enough for an alcoholic, and after 3 he ate a bit of his lunch and decided to go back to bed as he was tired, although I think he was in hiding. When he eventually go up again, he went straight to the fridge and got more beer, and this went on until we left for the port.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I like a beer now and again, but as I am out driving all the time I do not partake, and I have no problem with people having a drink, but obsessive boozing round the clock with no care about the people around them really annoys me.
I tried my hardest to keep my feelings to myself and my temper in check due to M’s dad being there, but it was showing, and I could not wait for them to go back to Ireland. I told M that his brother was no longer welcome in our home, and if he suggests coming to visit us again to pass the phone to me and I would inform him of my feelings and that he was not welcome, that this was my decision, and that if he has a problem then he needs to take it up with me and me alone.
The sad thing is that this weekend was supposed to be about M’s dad visiting us for the first time, but the brother made it about him and his alcoholism.
They say you cannot choose your family, but I for one will choose not to be in M’s brother’s company again.
Mr Knitter 
Man, my uncle was like that. He was a functioning alcoholic for many years…I don’t think I have a single memory of him without a beer or some sort of drink in his hand. As he got older, the drinking got worse, and soon he wasn’t even able to function socially anymore. The last time I saw him was at my brother’s high school graduation in 2008; my brother had visited him some more afterwards, but even he couldn’t handle the drinking. The last time he’d seen our uncle, my brother was working the night shift at a convenience store and barely recognized our uncle…he was a shell of himself. My uncle died suddenly in August 2014 (about 3 weeks before my grandfather, his stepfather who had raised him as his own, did), and while my aunt (who had a strained relationship with us) never told us his exact cause of death, I suspect that his years of alcoholism may have had something to do with it. His alcoholism is the reason why when I myself drink, I take great care in limiting how much I drink (having dealt with being overweight since I was a teenager, I know I am capable of binging). My uncle was never able to help himself. I hope your brother-in-law doesn’t fall to the same fate as my uncle, and is eventually able to bring himself to ask for help.
I can’t handle drunk people, either. I don’t care much for bars, and even at parties where people are drinking, if people start getting loud and rowdy, I immediately feel uncomfortable. I once rode shotgun while my brother was driving my parents and a family friend home from a party at the friend’s brother’s house, and my dad and his friend were both incredibly drunk (they had drunk quite a lot of beers by a bonfire, a very common thing at redneck parties in this part of the country), and both of them were talking quite loudly in the backseat, quite obnoxiously loudly. (Mom was not quite as drunk.). We dropped the friend off, and Dad quieted down a bit. There are also more than a few instances of my brother’s ex coming home piss drunk, either being loud, mellow, or loudly mellow. Crazy what alcohol can do to you…
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I used to work in a night club when I was in my 20’s on the weekend and loved the atmosphere, and was never bothered about the drunks. But I cannot bear being in the company of alcoholics. It is not them, it is the constant need to drink that I cannot stand. The lies and excuses they make in order to be out their mind drunk. I have the same feelings towards addicts in general. I do not have an addictive personality so cannot comprehend the reason for the addiction. I do not do drugs, I have never smoked, and as for drinking, I would rather be sober and in control. My mum is an alcoholic, although rather reformed and no longer drinks a bottle of whisky a day, she does have one or two drinks at night, and controls herself, well, to a point that is as she still has to have one.
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First of all I love the way you are straight forward with us on your blog. Second of all my father was a angry alcoholic. But was dry 27 years when past away 11 years ago. My children knew a different man growing up. Bill and his construction buddies drink some but never seem to ruin a good night out or a visit in my home.
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Thanks, I like to be as honest as I can be on here, hence not mentioning names, just a letter, saves being found and having to have a fist fight with them (although I would win ha ha). It is amazing how alcoholism has many many faces, and with that people see different personas from the same person.
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