I was about 29, a qualified lawyer for a few years, working in a Law Centre in Yorkshire.
I went to work one day, and opened my post as usual.
There was a letter addressed from a vicarage in London. The writer said that I had probably heard of him. In case I had not heard of him, he explained that he was a vicar, and every summer he came to Yorkshire to preach the message of abstinence.
He explained that for the last fifteen years he had made a regular tour of the major towns in Yorkshire. He attracted large audiences as he expounded the word of God, and persuaded his audience of the evils of drink.
For the last five years he had been accompanied by a young man of good family called David.
David was a living example of how strong drink could reduce a human being to degradation. David would come on stage. His pitted scabby face evoked revulsion. His drooling, spitting, and hiccoughs illustrated how low a person could fall through drink.
David’s inability to sit upright or stand properly, his constant fidgeting, his inane and inappropriate interruptions of the vicar’s speeches all illustrated the havoc that drink could bring to an intelligent man.
The vicar told me that sadly David had died.
The vicar was looking for someone to replace David, and my name had been suggested. Was I free to tour with him this August?
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