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I had become disillusioned with life. 'Is this all there is - a materialistic world? What a con!' I used to think and tried to fill the emptiness in my life with another drink.

Then, following a serious accident nine months previously, my drinking had escalated to an alarming level.

In August 2001 I fell out of the attic at home. The ladder propped against the hatch slipped away just as I put my foot on it to come down.

I made a rapid descent to the floor, ending up on the floor of the hall with, as they later that day found out at the Derbyshire Royal Infirmary, a severe spinal fracture.

The skilful surgeon at the hospital bolted two rods to my spine to form a splint in a lengthy operation and I was sent home to make a painful recovery over the next nine months.

The painkillers I'd been prescribed didn't kill the pain and I had great difficulty in sleeping. In fact, most nights I didn't.

So I resorted to another type of painkiller - alcohol. Eight cans of strong lager, or two bottles of wine, and I had no trouble falling asleep.

Unfortunately, some six or seven months later when I no longer needed painkillers, I couldn't get to sleep without drink. Had I carried on drinking at that level I would have killed myself by now.

What saved me was the support I received from the members of my Alpha group and God. I stopped drinking and, apart from a relapse at a Jubilee party in June that year, was doing fine.

Then three months down the line I had a crisis. I'd been to a pub on a Saturday afternoon, had my usual apple juice, hadn't felt tempted by alcohol, but had noticed a crowd of young people enjoying themselves. Shortly afterwards, on my way home, I couldn't get the thought out of my head that I was missing out on having a good time.

By the time I got home I was in trouble. The desire to have a drink was growing all the time. I knew if I went out to the pub I'd be there until closing time and I be absolutely wrecked.