It was the old proposition. The more I drank, the more I was compelled to drink in order to get an effect. The time came when cocktails³ were inadequate⁴. I had neither the time in which to drink them nor the space to accommodate them. Whisky had a more powerful jolt⁵. It gave quicker action with less quantity. Bourbon or rye, or cunningly aged⁶ blends, constituted the pre-midday drinking. In the late afternoon it was Scotch⁷ and soda⁸.

 

My sleep, always excellent, now became not quite so excellent. I had been accustomed to read myself back asleep when I chanced to awake. But now this began to fail me. When I had read two or three of the small hours away and was as wide awake as ever, I found that a drink furnished the soporific effect. Sometimes two or three drinks were required.

 

So short a period of sleep then intervened before early morning rising that my system did not have time to work off the alcohol. As a result I awoke with mouth parched⁹ and dry, with a slight heaviness of head, and with a mild nervous palpitation in the stomach. In fact I did not feel good. I was suffering from the morning sickness of the steady, heavy drinker. What I needed was a pick-me-up, a bracer. Trust John Barleycorn, once he has broken down a man's defences! So it was a drink before breakfast to put me right for breakfast—the old poison of the snake that has bitten one! Another custom begun at this time was that of the

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