I only remember little bits and pieces of what happened. I know it was June 2007, and after I had finished work at the fishmonger’s, I went to the pub to drink, as I did every day. A few hours later, some time around midnight, I realised I would have to rush otherwise I’d miss the last tube. I was running down the escalator, and I was drunk, so I must have tripped and fallen, and I ended up in a heap on the floor at the bottom.

An ambulance came and took me to hospital. I was awake, and I seemed OK; the paramedics were asking me the date and the time, and I knew the answers. But in the hospital they discovered a blood clot on my brain and operated that evening; they also put in a metal plate to stop my skull collapsing. I was in an induced coma for a week, and I remember having these powerful, vivid dreams. In one, there was a man who was covered in soot and holding a massive book, and he went up to this other guy and said, “You’re going to die.” And then he came up to me, and I said, “I don’t want to die, I want to stay alive”, and he replied, “OK, off you go.”

When I eventually woke up, I could walk, which is fortunate; a lot of people who have had a brain injury have to use a wheelchair to begin with. But I was completely different – my daughter brought me a teddy bear and I started biting it.

I went to rehab, which probably helped, but I still couldn’t talk properly; I just couldn’t find the right words. It’s called aphasia – instead of saying the word I meant, such as “train”, something else like “bus” would come out instead. I couldn’t go back to work. I had been a manager in the fishmonger departments at Selfridges and Fortnum & Mason, and I used to add all the bills up in my head. But when I tried working again after my accident, I couldn’t even tell customers the names of the fish. If I weighed something, I couldn’t read out the numbers. And I had epileptic fits every day. They were terrible, violent – I’d be on the floor, couldn’t move my body, couldn’t talk, and I would be depressed for ages afterwards.

Finally I found a charity called Headway East London, which helps people with brain injuries. At first, I would go to the centre and just sit in the corner and not talk to anybody; but then I met people who were in a similar predicament, and who understood what I was going through.

Although it was a very bad accident, it turned out also to be quite a good accident. I used to be a big drinker – that’s why I tripped over. I would wake up in the morning and have vodka before work, then a few pints at lunch in the pub, and then more after work. I think I was an alcoholic because of my past: my parents broke up and mum left when I was five years old, and my brother fell out of a window and died when I was 17. My dad was also a heavy drinker, so it’s probably in the genes.

But epilepsy and alcohol don’t mix, so I had to give up after my accident. In fact, I’d probably be in more trouble now if it hadn’t happened. I was really selfish before, and I used to cheat on everyone. I’m a lot kinder now that I’m sober. And I take a lot more care on the escalators.

I live on my own in sheltered housing in London, and I’m much happier now. I haven’t had a fit for several months, and although I still have aphasia, it’s not as bad as it used to be. I’ve got a garden, so I’m often out and about, thinking about what I can plant. I don’t think about my future, I focus on each day as I live it.

I do think about my daughter’s future. She’s at university – she’s amazingly intelligent. She’s such a blessing. I hope she will have a good and happy life. That’s the most important thing for me now.

• As told to Moya Sarner

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