'Grandpa' Meetings

I WAS at an English-speaking meeting in Berlin last year, and there was a guy there bewailing the fact that he had recently attended what he referred to as a 'grandpa' meeting. As he put it,

 "You know, the kind where all they do is moan about the fact that their washing machine isn't working. No Steps, no Programme.".  I'm no spring chicken myself, and the ageist overtones left me less than impressed. But heck, I have a big heart, I can leave that stuff at the door. However, I did find myself thinking about what he had said. 

I was a young man when I came to AA and got sober. It came as something of a shock when I got my first bus pass: this had not been on my list of wildest dreams. But it was the issue of washing machines that set me off. I was eleven years sober when I bought my first washing machine, it was a twin-tub - you don't really see those these days. A couple of years later I bought my first fully automatic washing machine, and I think I am on the third of those now. 

So, what did I do when I was drinking? A particularly fond memory I have was a period when I was down to three pairs of socks. The name of the game was rotation. Every three days. For weeks. In my mind's nose I can still smell those socks. Another favourite game was launderettes. For years these terrified me and I stayed away. Then I discovered the magic answer, find a launderette with a pub no more than a few doors away. Go into the pub and have a couple of drinks. The edge taken off, now scuttle round to the launderette, struggle with the powder dispensing machine, shove the clothes (including socks from above) into the barrel, and slap half a crown (12.5 p) into the slot in the machine. Job done, straight back to the pub to wait twenty minutes for the wash cycle to complete. Drying was a little trickier. The drying machines took sixpences (2.5p), and it would take anything between three and five of these to dry a load. The trick was to not put any more coins into the machine than necessary. So, stick a couple in there and then back to the pub. Problem was the drying machines tended to be fairly busy, and if you left your stuff unattended after the coins ran out you could return to find your washing had been unceremoniously dumped into a basket and left somewhere in a corner. Worse, now all the available dryers were occupied. Now we had loss of face, followed by having to hang around in the hell that was the launderette. Meanwhile a half-finished drink was going flat, back in the boozer. Conflict, of course, was inevitable.

The thing is when I was drinking, I simply did not know how to look after myself. I had to learn all that stuff in AA after I got sober. For me, the core of a spiritual way of life lies in the mundane, the daily routine. Dealing with a broken washing machine without having a drink is the Programme. As for the socks? Well, I only wear designer socks these days. I have about 40 pairs.

THE BLEEDING DEACON