Tracey Emin: My Life in a Column

Strange apparitions make their way towards me, like something out of the 'Living Dead'

On my third attempt to read a number plate (as the examiner was measuring out the regulation 67ft with a tape measure, and sweat was pouring into my eyes) the guy from the electric wheelchair shop came out and said: "Hey, a celebrity in Herne Bay, what are you doing here?" I wanted to kill him.

But Friday night was fun. I went out with my friend Hamish and super-cool cute-dude band The Dandy Warhols. At one point I completely lost it and ended up in tears. Luckily I had Hamish's shoulder to cry on. You see, it wasn't just my driving test. I wanted to change my life. I want to stop drinking. People say "why don't you just stop drinking?", but I've been doing it for 30 years. I still remember that first bottle of cider - I was 12 and it was the first time someone went down on me. But at least in those days I could remember it.

Seriously, there are lots of reasons I want to stop drinking. Maybe I want to have a baby, maybe I want to earn lots more money, maybe I just want to know what happened the night before. But the main reason, the big reason, is the ghosts, the dead people. A few weeks ago I was swimming at night in my friend's pool, and there was a kind or eerie mist. I swear it was something out of the Living Dead. Strange apparitions making their way towards me in the darkness. It happens a lot - and it scares me.

Steaming

This morning I woke up on the kitchen floor. Doing this is really bad because it's a flagstone floor, and I wake up with a cross-shaped mark on my face. Docket was sniffing around with a barrel of milk around his neck, playing the part of some mountain rescue dog. My house is on five floors, and sometimes I just can't make it up there. These days I don't have hangovers. But when I was with Mat [Collishaw] it used to be a killer. Sometimes I look back at our six years together and I have to wonder how Mat ever put up with it.

One Sunday we were supposed to be going for a steam. (That's how Mat and I recovered - and we still do steam together. Sometimes we play the Roman game - my favourite line that I ever came out with was, "Yes, I went to Verulamium today, I bought myself this very nice shield.") Anyway, back to the hangover.

I'd spent about two hours in the bathroom throwing up, and in the end I just lay there in the recovery position, praying, like you do. "Please God, I will never do it again. Just make me feel better." Mat said he was leaving in five minutes, and he knew I had always mustered up the energy to get myself going. But not this time - I couldn't move. An hour and a half later, Mat was in the Barbican, sitting on the large Jacuzzi spout, when it occurred to him that I wasn't there. Mat then went into a spiral of paranoia. The idea that I could have choked on my own vomit and lay there for the past hour was too much.

He imagined being hounded by questions, having to give answers: "How could you have just left her on the bathroom floor?" In Mat's defence, it's a really nice bathroom. There's underfloor heating and a really nice window where the light comes in. I suppose that's a good enough reason to stop drinking. I love my friends too much.

I don't drink coffee, I don't take drugs, I don't smoke cigarettes, I haven't drunk spirits since 1999, I don't eat chocolate and I don't masturbate. The idea of giving up drinking scares me to death, I would become one of those people, those enlightened spirits, one of the good people, and that really scares me. I've hardly ever made a mistake in my life, not sober. The only mistakes I have ever made have been when I was drunk. Squeaky-clean jellybean - I don't think any of us want that.

Farewell, Ted

I was sad to read that Edward Heath died. Even though he was a Tory, I had respect for his style of politics. When I was eight I sent him a poem, and you know, he wrote back to me.

Dear Mr Heath,

Morning Cloud is a beautiful yacht,

I can see you love her because you sail a lot.

If you go to Broadstairs to sail the sea

Would you like to visit? And have some tea with me.

Tracey Emin, aged 8