Hi Everyone

Pete's courage in sharing a story based on personal experience has
inspired me to do the same, albeit one from many years ago.

Any comments are welcome!

................................................................

I had just walked in the door and found him sitting in the lounge,
waiting for me.

"Strange", I thought. "Why isn't he at work?"

He was wearing the usual glum, hang-dog expression, but there was
something else, almost excitement, but not quite.

"The police came to the house today" he said.

"What?" I replied, thinking that they must have been making some
general enquiries.

"I found drugs in the house, so I called the police" he decided to
inform me.

"What drugs?" I asked. I knew I still had a some weed hidden in one
of my drawers, but surely he couldn't be referring to that. Maybe it
was the dead cannabis plant in the garage?

"I found some drugs in your drawer".

It was at this point that I stopped listening.

"OK. I'm moving out" I said to him, feeling every bit as calm as I
think I sounded. I actually felt relieved, even though I was
slightly worried about the consequences of police involvement. What
was he thinking? Apparently it was intended to `bring me to my
senses', whatever that meant to him. Well, it had done just that!

So, there I was, spending a week over Christmas at Kelly's house,
cleaning her incredibly filthy bathroom in an effort to repay her for
her generosity in providing me with temporary accommodation, while
keeping my thoughts occupied.

How do you go from being lonely living with someone, to being less
lonely on your own? I could have really used some company, but I
guess spending Christmas with family is too much of an institution
for some to sully by including any outsiders, even if they are
supposedly best friends.

The police were kind enough to let me make arrangements for an
interview after Christmas. I was pretty nervous and felt tainted
somehow, being at the station, even though I had gone in voluntarily.

I don't quite recall the sequence of events. I had to fill in some
forms. I had to be officially cautioned. I had to be taken to
the `charging office' or whatever it was called, in a police
vehicle. (Shit, what if they actually decide to lock me up!) I had
to get my fingerprints taken. I had to explain where the cannabis
had come from. "Some guy gave it to me after we'd been to a club,
quite a few months ago. I haven't seen him since".

Yeah, right. I couldn't exactly tell them it had been a parting gift
from my sister, could I? I had been saving it for a special
occasion, which just failed to come along.

At least the booking officer was sympathetic to my situation. "What
an arsehole" I think is what he said, when I explained how I had
ended up at the station. "Shopping his wife for a teaspoonful of
grass!"