Source: BBC |
I
decided to give up drinking alcohol for a month. I'd seen the posters
for Octsober, a month-long initiative to make people aware of alcohol
abuse, similar to this month's Movember, during which time men grow
their facial hair to raise awareness of testicular cancer; I'd seen
the poster, but didn't feel terribly compelled to participate in a
month-long spell of enforced alcohol abstinence. I'm not good at
feeling like I'm being told to do something by a marketing campaign.
Be
assured, I'm not a alcoholic, nor do I consider myself to have any
sort of drinking problem, and in fact, in contrast to others I know,
I barely drink at all. I never drink on a school night, I hardly ever
drink if I'm at a work dinner or on the rare occasion I go out for
after-work drinks, I can only think of a handful of occasions where
I've shared a whole bottle of wine with my wife during the course of
an evening, and my principal alcohol consumption is confined to a
couple of cocktails on a Friday and Saturday night and a glass of
wine with lunch on a Sunday. In this sense, I'm not that different to
my younger self; I didn't drink that much as a student and I can
probably count the number of times I've been properly wasted on two
hands. In fact, I wrote a post for my first blog (The First Days Of
My Thirties) a few years ago that covered my mild misdemeanours with
alcohol, and I have no other notable additions to make to that list.
When I had a compulsory medical in my first few weeks of starting at
university in 1995, in response to the question 'Has anyone commented
on the amount you drink?' I put 'Yes, people say I don't drink
enough.' The doctor didn't see the funny side of this. So, in
summary, I don't think I have a problem, but then again, I imagine
that most people with an alcohol problem don't think they do either.
The
opportunity to abstain for a month came with the confluence of the
bottles of vodka, gin and Bacardi in our house all running dry at more or less the
same time. These are the bases I use for most of the cocktails I make
so it meant spending anything up to £70 on three bottles of booze in
one go. Money being tight anyway these days and with Christmas coming
up, the idea of that expenditure was hard to justify, in the same way
as I'd find it hard to justify buying music or an expensive hobby
right now.
So
for the entire month of November not a drop of alcohol passed my
lips. I'd like to say that I felt better for it, but for some reason
the only real benefit seems to have been financial. The month of
abstention seemed to coincide with a period of unsettled sleep for
our youngest daughter, and so I still woke up on Saturday and Sunday
mornings during November with a jaded feeling, just as if I'd had a
few drinks the night before. I'm sure my body appreciated the detox
on some level, but I suspect you need to drink a lot more than I do
to feel a major benefit.
But
maybe there was one major benefit of the month off: I didn't miss
alcohol at all. I didn't drive home from the train station after work
on a Friday looking forward to a gin and tonic, or idly look through
my cocktail books on a Saturday afternoon looking for interesting
recipes to make, and in spite of having a pretty stressful period at
work, I don't remember once thinking to myself that I needed a drink
after an especially gruelling day in the office.
Still,
that was November. It's now practically December, the time for
Christmas traditions; mulled wine, the first alcohol I will
have consumed in a month is being prepared, its boozy, fruity, spicy
fragrance filling my kitchen. The Christmas drinks cupboard is
being restocked and festive cocktail recipes are being pulled out of
the Saturday papers.
Cheers.
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