Alcohol. Booze, grog, hooch, the hard stuff, liquor, bevvy, the sauce. Call it what you want, it’s a big part of life. Well, my life. I can’t think of many times in my adult life when I haven’t had a drink for a few weeks.
I don’t drink every day, obviously. But I love a bevvy at the weekend. I adore a glass of champagne at an event, or on a special occasion. Summer evenings spent in a beer garden with cold beer, or ice-filled gin and tonics are blissful. Long summer nights in a foreign land with the local wine flowing are what holidays are all about. Cold winter nights in the cosy pub are wonderful.
Booze is so woven into our culture in Scotland, that we indulge without even thinking.
Everyone that knows me, knows I love a drink; a party, a fun night out, with a glass in hand. My uncle used to put the biggest wine glass at my place on Christmas Day for a laugh.
I work in an industry – journalism – and the side of it – fashion and beauty – where booze is regularly free-flowing, and the best meetings were always done down the pub, or over a boozy lunch. I come from a time when the only green drink we’d think about (and still screw our face up at) was Creme de Menthe (or maybe Midori).
Tales of the most drunk you’ve ever been are told at gatherings, to raucous laughter and applause. The amount you can drink is rewarded with praise from your friends and colleagues. I was accepted as a football journalist in the 1990s because I could hold my own with the guys in the press room and pub after games. Drink is in my blood. Literally.
It’s not something to be proud of really though, is it?
Recently I got to thinking about whether I could actually not drink? Although I can go five days without a drink (Sunday to Thursday, usually), come the weekend, I am usually ‘desperate’ for that cold glass of white, or a whisky and coke, my favourite tipple.
Last year, thanks to an overzealous doctor, and some other medical ‘stuff’ I had a liver scan – it showed up fine. The liver is a resilient organ, but that, coupled with the fact that I struggle to just have a couple on a night out, and the horrific hangovers that now follow the boozy fun, aged 45, have made me feel a bit at odds with my love of the demon drink.
So, when I saw the Go Sober October MacMillan charity email in my inbox, I thought ‘i’m going to do that this year’.
And here I am, on Friday, September 30, waiting to head to the pub with my husband for an ‘aperitivo’ before dinner, which will be accompanied with a nice Pinot Noir that I bought the other week. Maybe a wee whisky before bed, and then that’s it. No more. For 31 days.
I’m not sure how I will make it through the month, and I am approaching it with excitement and trepidation. Make it easier for me, please, by sponsoring me at the link below! Cheers!