(and rise) THE RISE OF THE SOBER CURIOUS
SHORTLY AFTER 6AM EVERY morning during the winter months, a flock of geese fly in formation over my garden. I’ve lived in rural Wiltshire for seven years, but this beautiful sky-serenade is new to me. If geese were flying over the garden for the previous six winters I didn’t know about it, because at 6am I used to be asleep. Now, I’m wide awake and on my way for a run up, round and down the nearby hill. When I see the geese in what appears to be a private fly-by especially for me, my heart does a little leap. Those geese, for me, are a symbol of my sobriety.
When I grew bored of
