One week before I metpoliphilo I tried to kill myself - and nearly succeeded. I took about 70 paracetamol with half a bottle of scotch whisky mixed with cola. My lodger was out and arrived home an hour early and although I had gone up to bed when I heard his key in the door, realised what I had done and called an ambulance. I was lucky. Paracetamol can kill in very small quantities. I'd been drinking every day for months and it's thought that the alcohol stopped my liver from absorbing the paracetamol.
The morning after I was visited by a young psychiatrist (she looked like she should have been in school - but it was Sunday) and told her that although it had been right at the time I would never do it again. I had this calm certainty that told me it was true and she believed me.
I was let out of hospital on the Monday and returned to work on the Tuesday. The girls at work persuaded me to look at the Manchester Evening News Companions section. Most people wanted someone '5 foot 2 inches, blond and slim'. I don't fit any of these catagories. There was one which read "Pagan Poet (40) seeks woman with guts".
The girls reckoned he was a nutter but I answered it, because being 16 stone I had plenty of guts! He got 12 or 14 replies but when he was ringing round on the Saturday morning I was the only one that answered. We met on Monday evening, slept together, met again on Wednesday, at which time he asked me to meet his kids on Saturday.
I met his kids, got on okay and that was that. We either both slept at my house or, more likely, at his. After a fortnight he asked me to move in officially and after a month we booked the wedding for 3 months in advance (my birthday).
I've never looked back I know that I was extra lucky in that I stopped drinking after being in hospital and had no withdrawal symptoms nor nothing, I just stopped.