An Invisible Force

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SO, round about five years in, I had a good sponsor and had done the Programme. I was still unemployed and had been for a while, and was so poor that, it seemed to me even the church mice would point at me and snicker as they walked past. I was starting to feel the emergence of a newfound ease within myself, a certain freedom. Yes, I'm poor I thought but at least I'm sober - yaaayy! It was at this point (in my imagination at least) that the HP threw it into fifth gear. In my mind, I see the HP up there in his kitchen with Moses or somebody and every time they get a little bored or need a laugh, they look at each other and remember me and clutch each other in mirth as they decide their next move.

It happened like this. Having not worked in quite some time, and with the housing benefit coming to an end, meaning I'd lose my house, I was becoming very desperate. Having no computer at home I would go to the library and, with no jobs suitable to my qualifications to be had at home, I had started to contact teaching agencies in England. I remember at this time coming home from a meeting with my friend N. and we were joking around about me possibly working in England and she said, "Imagine if you got a school that came with accommodation too, ha ha." and you know what? That's exactly what happened! Which was just as well as I had zero cash at this point. One night whilst watching television (an old portable my friend N. had lent me and lying on my mattress bed on the floor) I saw this fly-on-the-wall documentary. I remember thinking, "God I miss my old job" and "He seems like a lovely headmaster." I kid you not, the following week a girl from one of the teaching agencies rang me up and asked had I seen that documentary. I replied I had. "Well" she said, "get your bags packed, 'cos you've an interview there next week!!".

To say I was surprised is an understatement and it's moments like these which definitely make me suspect there is a Higher Power. I think the agency even paid for the flight. Now as an alcoholic I get nervous changing my socks so switching countries was a terrifying prospect for me BUT I needed the money. This was to be my first sober flight. When I was drinking, I would have happily sat on the wing of a plane - indeed I might even have offered the pilot a few flying tips - so luckily the morning of that first sober flight I was sat on my own because I cried like a baby for most of it. I'm sure people thought I was demented. Just then something happened which to this day I do not understand. I felt the presence of a pair of invisible hands holding my shoulders and could almost see them and, noticing a black mark on one of the fingernails, I recognised them as my beloved father's hands, he must have been dead five years at that point. It calmed me down at any rate. When I landed in London, the girl from the agency picked me up from the airport in her lovely wee black sports car. Very kind of her I thought.

And so, began a new chapter in my life in England. 'A bridge to normal living', I think is the term.

PATRICIA