Why We Never Learn
December, 1994
I got a frantic call in the middle of the night from Dido. She was falling to pieces. Please, please, please could I come over? I fell out of bed and drove over in my nightgown. Dido, flooded with tears, let me in. She was a cloud of gin fumes. Oh, fucking Jesus. After six months locked up in an alcohol treatment center in Oklahoma, and then a year of going faithfully to AA meetings, Dido had catapulted off the wagon.Her apartment was a showcase for overflowing ashtrays and wadded, used tissues....
