Hothouse Flower Learning and Teaching with Thomas, the Islandman.     You may wonder, occasionally, as you pass a wet street corner, or emerge from a draughty tube station, sober and solvent, how that staggering and destitute Irishman with the blue can of super-lager, ever got himself in such a state, in such a position... Well, at times, Thomas has been just such a character. But with the help of the staff in Arlington House, he succeeded in pulling himself together. Thomas's battle with alcohol continues.     Thomas's Story.   " I was born in Co. Galway in 1948. I was the eldest of six children. My father and mother lived on Inishkillane island. They were two schoolteachers who had come into the island from outside, both from other parts of Galway. I was their first child. My dad didn't have any house when I was born. They lived with a farmer on the island. Obviously, my dad had a very hard time before he got a permanent job. He used to cycle around villages in Galway before he got a position on Inishkillane. He got a position in one of the island's schools as a substitute; there were three schools on the island at that time. And when a permanent position came up at Lisnabrawshkeen, which is on one end of the island, he got that job. And [eventually] he managed to get a house; it was attached to the school, and in pretty bad shape, I believe, just the bare essentials. I don't remember my early years, when I was being raised in the farmer's house, but I've saw some photographs of myself in a pram. As I grew up, I had the misfortune - good fortune you may call it - to be taught by my mother in junior school, and then by my father for the rest of my education. I suppose I was a bit forward [intelligent], and being the eldest boy, I went to school at three. I used to come home - I was in babies [the infants' class] - and I used to sit outside the house, with my father, on a rick of turf, which he used to buy from some farmers. And I got on quite well at school; but school life sometimes continued at home, as I got on. And Dad, who is now 87 years of age, did an awful lot for us. He was always the "go-ahead" type: be good at this, and be good at that. I got on quite well with all the chaps on the island. [But] I always had the feeling, since I was about 9 or 10, that I was a "blow-in" [the islanders' term for a recent arrival, or an outsider], and maybe, that was of my own doing. I didn't know whether I was part of the island or not. But I really enjoyed my youth. I can't describe my youth. I wanted to be good at school; but if I wasn't good at school, I wouldn't be singled out [by the teachers, my parents] more than anybody else. [However] I did go to the " hard school" in the final years, and if I couldn't answer a question, I would get the most punishment. I would often have to run across the yard, which is where our house was, for my mother's protection.... but I don't hold that against my father today. Anyway, on leaving primary school, I gained a primary certificate, and again, I was only ten and a half. I was always in a class where I was two years younger than everybody else. And it had an effect. I was good at school, but whenever it came to games, I wasn't as good at games. At the termination of my primary school, there was a Christian Brothers school in Corkadoragha, and we travelled there by ferry from Lisnabrawshkeen. Four of us were going there. And I was sent there; get the ferry in the morning and then cycle three and a half miles. The ones who were conscientious to go, they were the first years, including myself, for I only completed the first year there. And the older ones... The slightest excuse not to go... and we would get mad if somebody voted to go, when other people voted not to go. Naturally, being a first year, I would be delighted to stay at home. I was growing up. I had great friends on the island, and my dad sometimes used to say, "don't go down in that area ", because he thought there might be a bad influence there. At least, that's what I thought at the time. There were lighthouse keepers on the island, travelling families, who used to come for six or seven years, and then move on. I mixed with them quite a lot. They used to go all around Donegal, Tusker Rock, and then be based on Inishkillane for a while. I got friendly with quite a lot of them. And there were a lot of what they call "blow-ins " on the island, people working on the cable station, which was a trans-Atlantic station. And I suppose, being a teacher's son, I felt that people were looking at me, and, if anything happened, there were people who would love to see me in the midst of trouble. Not that I wanted to be out of causing trouble, because I tended to be a bit of a hoodlum; doing things like knocking on peoples' doors, and raiding orchards. Anyhow. After a year at the Christian Brothers, my father thought that he would send me to a boarding school, where he had attended himself. I did an entrance exam for there, for St. Patrick's College in Kerry. And I went there, to the boarding school. I was only eleven and a half. I remember the first time my father came to visit me, I did not want to go back to the study room. And I was about five minutes late going in, and the priest... I was crying because I was very soft at the time... He asked me why I was late. He gave me six slaps. I hated the place, at the start. In first year, I sort of went backwards in my class, because I was seventh [overall] or something like that in the entrance examination [a top grade]. Then we were segregated a, b, & c, and I went down till about fifth from the end [a low overall grade]. But I had the attitude that this was good enough. I went into second year then; I got on quite well, there. But I always wanted to be doing something that wasn't run of the mill. I didn't like conforming, much. I didn't want to get the name " lickarse", if you know what I mean. And I started smoking at an early age. It was kind of a club that we used to have. We thought by doing that [smoking], it was a stroke in our favour. So, I went into second year anyway, and I improved in class, at the time. I studied more, through fear, and getting results. What I used to do, was what they called "pounding", just eat the books like, y'know, just to gear toward the exam. I was 12-13, and I did my first exam in second year; you weren't supposed to do it until third year. I got on alright: I got six honours. I remember we had a Latin teacher. He taught me in first year. He used to put the fear of HELL into you, if you didn't know your principal parts of the verbs. And we had him, unfortunately, for Greek, in the second year. I remember he took me out to the board to write the principal parts of the verbs; and when he came up behind me, he gave me three of the greatest "rooters" [kicks] up the arse. I was really very soft and petrified, like. Y'see, my mother died when I was in second year. She died of cancer. And there was six of us [children] in the family. I remember the day when my father came in to me, and I was very immature. I was crying, of course. He said, " what will we do, now? ". That's the first time I ever saw him crying. I know it today, that he was quite a sincere man... but he was a hard man, as well, sort of thing... SKEBANG. I begun taking everything that came my way. I sort of had a skin up [rebelliousness] inside me, but at the same time, I wanted to get results. I wanted to be one of the boys, and be doing something on the quiet. Anyway, I was getting on alright. I used to mix with the seniors a lot, and I would mix with my own class, as well. But I thought, with the seniors, well, I'll get to know these fellas. It was a sort of conflict inside me, like. A few of us were like that; we thought we were a class ahead, we were the big boys. So, I went into the third year and I did my inter-cert again, and I got seven honours. I was OK, academically, but I was more of a book merchant than anything else. I was alright. Fine. Well looked after at school. It was really Patricia, my eldest sister, who looked after us at school. I used to get cakes, and I got on with blokes, and we used to go to football. And I went into the fifth year, what's called your final year, before you do your Leaving Certificate. And lo and behold, the priest picked me to serve the bishop's mass; I was trained, and I was doing that for a while. But I think that the Dean found out that I was inclined to be getting lackadaisical about discipline, and he took me off that job. I think that he got the word that I was smoking, as well, because people could be expelled for smoking. But, I kept it up on the academic side, anyhow, didn't do any exam in fifth year. And I was going to do my "leaving" [examination] in the last year. I used to do things there. We used to run out into the demesne [grounds] and go downtown and get the odd girlfriend or two. We used to have retreats [periods of religious contemplation]. At the retreats, I really prayed. D'ye know what I mean? The way I looked at life, ...I didn't look at the practical side of life at all, the practical education. The answer lay in getting results. When I was at home on holiday, between fifth year and sixth year, I started... we started going out with girls, and smoking , and we used to have these "camps", where we used to drink Cidona [a soft drink]. We were a little gang all to ourselves, like. There was upper Lisnabrawshkeen and lower Lisnabrawshkeen and they used to have what they called "mock fights", with bamboos, and things like that. As I was growing up during this time, I got very friendly with the light-keepers, and we used to play a lot of football, because Cormac O'Donnell was a famous footballer, and he came from the island, and we used to play football with him. But I never made the grade, very much, as a footballer; and in college it was just as part of a team. Anyway. After about five years there [at boarding school], I did my leaving certificate, and I got seven honours in that. And I got called to St. Patrick's Training College, in Dublin. I went to St. Pat.'s in Dublin, then. That was my first real sense of freedom. I had me own room in the college, and I thought, I'm in DUBLIN now. I had taken my first drink, during my final year at school. I'll always remember it. It was in Cork, and I only got through half of it... It was during an entrance examination for U.C.C. [University College, Cork]. That was it. When I went to Dublin, I saved all my pocket money for the weekend, and, uh, I didn't drink very much in the first year. I used to spend most of my summers back on holiday in the West Galway Gaeltacht [an area where Irish is the first language] because my mother - God rest her soul - came from there. I used to spend my summer holidays with my aunt, learning Irish, and I used to get a scholarship for that, and my aunt wouldn't take no money, so I would save it up for the following year... I used to start going to "hops" [discos], more than anything else. And I got on quite well with my teaching practice; I was just reading my reference last night. My preparation was good, but it lacked imagination. Today, I feel that the fact that I was two years younger than everybody else, went against me. And the rest of my family have the attitude that they would let their children go the full... term [not try and push them ahead too early]. Anyway, I SCRAPED through training college. I wasn't very good. I was just doing the BARE amount; I was, more or less, "acting the lad", y'know, drinking and smoking, going to hops. Doing everything, not in an extreme way, but sort of... I never thought during those two years that my life was ahead of me... I just scraped through. I got a job for the first of July 1967. You only had to do a day, and then there was the summer holidays; you came back in September, and you got paid for the summer holidays. So, that summer, I just waited around and waited for my first pay cheque, which arrived on the tenth of August. I was always out for [mischief]... I was a bit of a hedonist, if you like, smoking, and having the craic, and sometimes... I didn't feel like I was part of things, although I did take part in a few plays [amateur dramatics] and things like that. But I always had the feeling - I assumed that people didn't like my father - and I didn't like some of his attitude at school, like. It used to brush off on me, when I used to see some of the other lads. Some of them used to have a lot of time for him. But he never spared any of them, ...or me either. He was strict but fair. VERY strict - though, he was changed in his later days. Looking back on it today, he coped very well, to bring the six of us up, like. When I trained [to be a teacher] he gave me a car... It was just a Morris Minor, because he was scrapin' [not wealthy] all his life. He came from a large family of farmers. He was the second eldest. I used to often go and take him to see his mother and all the relations. Every time I used to go - I think I was a bit spoiled - my grandmother used to put 10/- in my pocket. When I started teaching, it was about thirty years ago, [and] looking back on it, now...... I was an alcoholic right from the start. I tried, I tried, and I tried. I got my first job in Trim, Co. Meath, and it was a small village. What I used to do, was act alright during the week, and get out at the weekend. I would get pissed, and come back. I stuck that for a year, and I even ended up getting friendly with the local hotelier; we used to play football. I started missing days, then. I used to be sick in the morning, and lazy. And when you'd be sick, you'd be despondent about being in bed in the landlady's house, and you'd get up in the evening... That happened during my first year. I felt remorse about that, and I felt that I wasn't doing the right thing. So, I wanted to do a "geographical" [supply teaching];and I got a position in Dublin, through a friend of mine. So, this was great. There was no local community around, and I was living in one part of the city and working in another. It was a working class area, in Coolock, Co. Dublin. I attended regularly there, but the principal copped on to me in the first year and I was... I just missed the odd day in six or seven weeks, and it got covered up, and you got paid. I got transferred to another school because this school was closing down, and the teachers knew about my record for missing days... So, I went up there, and the same thing started again. I got on very well with my kids, I got on very well with the other teachers. It was tough. Some of the kids used to come to the school without breakfast or anything... and I was good with them. I love Irish [the Irish language] myself , but I used to think it was drudgery, sometimes, having to teach young children that [Irish] in the morning, when some of them was half-starved. So, the [schools] inspector started getting on me, but I got through my first two years of exams. But it was always drink was on my mind, for some reason. I think today that I just wasn't mature, and that I've only become mature in the last two to three years. I used to come to London, during my summer holidays then, two months off. I worked in the `Walls' factory, I worked on the railway over here; but all that was to accumulate my holiday money at home. I was always looking forward to the big "blow-up" [drinking session], when I would go back [to Ireland]. I would go to school and I would lead a sort of artificial life; but I started having qualms about the whole thing. And even one friend of mine, who drank quite a lot, said to me: " Tom, " he said, " I'm talking to you as a friend. If you don't stop drinking..." - and this was years ago - " ...you will end up in the gutter !." Well, I didn't believe that. Anyway, he kept on at it, the whole routine. I got fed up with the job. I couldn't stick the job, so I went and resigned. I resigned, rather than be sacked. While I was resigned, I would still be drinking. And I did "geographicals". I went to another part of Dublin. Then I started going with a girlfriend, and I got engaged. I broke that up, because I met another girl, and she was drinking. The other [first] girl wasn't drinking. I have spoken to her, today. She's a great friend of mine, and she often asks of me. I wrote to her from prison. I went back to teaching, several times, because my father had a good name with principals, all over. Anyhow, I was [always] chopping and changing. Basically, I made a shit of my attendance, and I couldn't hold a job down. I came to England, and I said, "no more". That was in the early 70s. [However] I went back, and I got a job in Bray, Co. Dublin. I got this job in Bray, and I said, this is it: clean sweep [a fresh start]. I did the first term... no, up until December, and ....I ended up in St. Pat's psychiatric hospital in Dublin. I had been engaged to another girl, but she had fucked off, because I was drinking. It was my fault. I was in there [in hospital], and had ECT [electro-convulsive-therapy, shock treatment] for depression. I really took this separation [engagement break-up] very badly, though it was my fault. I'm glad now that the two split-ups occurred; because their [the ex-fiancées] lives would be wrecked. But, I couldn't see that at the time. When I came out of the psychiatric hospital in Dublin, I went to an AA [Alcoholics Anonymous] meeting, and Jesus, I ran out of it. And I said, " I'm not as bad as them !". The second term in Bray, I did it; it was the first term I ever did without missing a day. And then I came back for the third term, and the night before the first day, I had such a rake of beer, that I didn't go in at all. It was just the way drink affected me, like. I spent all that term off, getting paid. Then, I resigned on the first of July, because I didn't think it was right to get paid for the summer holidays. I headed over here on 10th October, 1974, stayed till after Christmas, then went back again, and got a temporary position. And the same thing happened again. So, I came over here for good in 1975. And I said, " I'm here for good, now ". I even drew out my pension, whatever pension there was, and whatever insurance. I was determined to come for good. It was the usual craic. I got a job in a pub in Covent Garden, went out at the weekends, to the Gresham [an Irish dancehall] on Holloway Rd., the Galtymore [an Irish dancehall in Cricklewood], probably steamboats [drunk] on a Saturday night. I was living in, and there was no key to the place. But the guv'nor was alright, he was an alcoholic; and I was happy enough. At one stage during my teaching career, I had a car - my first car, my father had bought. I crashed it, and my cousin crashed it; and then I sold it for drink money. Then I got a car on the H.P. [credit], and I was selling it off, to get money for drink, in the summertime. I bought a big car, a Fiat 128, on credit, and then I tried to sell it. But, this bloke [the potential buyer] realised that there was money owing on it; the second bloke didn't realise. When I came to England eventually, I had about £ 700-800 owing to the Lombard & Ulster bank. And I had to pay that back, out of my wages from the pub. I worked in Covent Garden, I worked off Regent Street for three months. Then I got a job in Fulham, a pub on the Broadway. I was only there for two and a half months. I went on the dole then; started going from hostel to hostel. I'd stay so long in a hostel [and then move on]. I was drinking. I had a terrible kind of an over-bearing attitude: like, that drink was [came] first, and that I could handle everything with drink. Which I couldn't. Anyway, I liked the Irish Centres [social life], and I liked the craic. I never had any aim [ambition], really. But I got too big for my boots. I remember one time, when I was working here, a fella gave me the run of the [his] house; and I fucking ran away with his suit. But I made amends for that [later]. I loved reading the Irish Post when I came here, and the Irish Independent; going in and listening to the Irish songs on the jukebox. But, I had no sort of goal in life. I had lost my religion. I was a non-entity. Say, 1979, I started getting the dole money. Maybe getting a big giro for booking into a hostel, and then just going and kipping in the street. I stayed in St. Mungo's, the Salvation Army, ...got to know the regular drinkers, started drinking wine and cans. I was about twelve years out there, living rough. And the only time I had a lie-down, was in gaol. I got into trouble with the law for shoplifting. When I was drunk, I kicked a copper, once. I was doing all these things out of character. I never got sentenced to more than six months. I had terrible periods [of imprisonment]: six months, five months, four months. I was in and out... All that [time on the streets] has left me with a C.V. which is full of prison, prison, prison. The only time I could dry out, was during a prison sentence. And I felt awful in there, like. Because I said, " Fuck it, what am I doing HERE?" Y'know... I'd be sober for three or four days and I'd say, " I'll never again take a drink !". [But] The first fucking place you would go, when you got out, would be the off-licence ! Stupid. I came out one Saturday morning and I got nicked again that Saturday night. I was at loggerheads with myself; I knew I was doing wrong, but... There was a pack of regulars around the West End, twelve or thirteen of us, and we were all hooked on the one thing [alcohol]. I got on alright with a lot of them; once we had the cure [another drink to get over the morning's hangover], that was it. There's a lot of them dead, since. Fuck, I was in and out of prison, and I ended up in High Point. Ah, it was all shoplifting, stupid... And I was on probation for a while. I met a chap in Pentonville, and he said that there was a great hostel called Arlington House. I had been there in the old days; three nights and then get a giro, and that was it. So, I got in here in 1991, and I've been here since. The attitude I had coming in here - the old thoughts got a hold of me: " I'm in the place now, I can go out and drink ". [But] I haven't been in trouble with the law, since I been in here. Even now, when I'm not drinking, I don't hate this hostel at all, y'know. I came in here about five years ago. I came in here after being in Whitlam Hall, the Salvation Army in Whitechapel. I was all over, in "dry-houses". I would take myself in to get dried out, but it would never last. When I started drinking, drink took over, and as far as I'm concerned, I have done all the wrong things, like. I take the fault [blame] for it, today, which I didn't before. That was the first humiliation. [Although] It's GOOD to know WHERE I went wrong. Because I was... fucking shite... thinking, (although I mightn't show it, but inside me, I used to say) " Fuck, I don't want ANYONE to tell me that I'm an alcoholic ". Since I come in here, I've been doing alright. I'm under Doctor R, because, uh, I'm kind of an alcoholic. And I'M ONE DRINK AWAY FROM SHIT STREET. Y'see, when I'm drinking, I feel very depressed, and I go to my room and I feel very much alone. I got ECT when I was in hospital for depression. When I'm not drinking, although I'm alone, I'm not lonely, because I can talk to people. AA is working for me, one day at a time. I'm afraid, myself, and I'm NOT afraid, myself. I woke up yesterday morning and the old thoughts kept coming back to me; if I do this, and if I do that... But I can't live in the past. I'm happier today than what I used to be. I find it's no use brooding. As regards the future, I've just got to take it one day at a time. I've made a lot of mistakes, but... As for Ireland, I'm going to leave it in the balance for the time being. I have to prove myself, first. I'm interested in what goes on in Ireland. I watch the news on the tv. I was very close to people who were politically minded in Dublin, toward the left, but that was a lot to do with the bars I used to go to. As regards the Irish here, I get on great with them. And I see some of the young lads on the street, there... [And I can empathise with them, because] I was on those streets myself. This place [Arlington House] has been a saviour to me. I get on well with the lads here. Some mightn't like you to be off the beer, but more wouldn't mind. Some days, I might drink orange [juice] out of a [empty] tin of Tenants [strong lager], just putting up my bluff, like, y'know [pretending to drink, to fit in with the other drinkers]. [But] I've got out of that now... Today, you caught me in good humour. The depression seems to lift sometimes, because I've come to the attitude that, if I'm going to be eating myself inside... it's only ME I'm going to be eating away. And what I do with my time is, I try and take it up with [activities]; I do some voluntary work, I do a couple of courses. I'm doing a cookery course. It would be very hard for me to move into a flat on my own, now. I'm 48 years old now. But I'm quite content. I find the House [hostel] very, very, very good, because it's given me a lot of support. The workers in this house have a very enlightened attitude. I just don't want to go back to my old drinking stage. I would shy away from people, before [when I was drinking], think that people were uh, looking at me and... [Now] I just get through it one day at a time. I think that there's an awful lot of talent in here. There can be a tag put on a person for being in a certain place, which is unjustified. There are a lot of lads here who would [like to] work But the work situation is much worse than it was five years ago. Maybe, Irish Associations and maybe the Irish government will be able to help out, will be able to help people in their hour of need. Because some of these people are of the true Irish nature - they just happen to be in a situation which is beyond their control. And this house, for many people, is like being in your own homeland. When you talk to some people from Ireland, it gives you a sense of homeliness - not that I'm racist against any other tenants in the House, in fact, it is very sobering to comprehend that we [the hostel tenants] all get on, irrespective of class, creed, or religion. My job prospects aren't very encouraging, to say the least. All that's on offer are cleaning jobs, £ 4.50 an hour, and you have to pay the rent out of that. It's a cul-de-sac, really. I have plans that, in two years time, I might go back and have a crack at the 'oul game [teaching] But, I have to prove myself first, because I've a thirty year history of drinking. I haven't got a whole lot of prospects, but let's see what happens. OTHER INTERVIEWS