Friday, 28 December 2012

Post-Christmas Cold Turkey

January’s going to be a dry month. This has nothing to do with the droughts predicted by mild-mannered environmentalists - or as the Telegraph's Delingpole describes them, Eco Nazis.

No, my dry January is about a lack of booze rather than a lack of rainfall. I know a few folk who go without drink each January and I’ve decided to join them. I appreciate I am risking my reputation as The Life And Soul Of The Party, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Some people are taking it on as a challenge to raise money for charity, which is very worthy. I’m doing it for someone special. Me.

Jaffas. Not for sharing.
I have pretty addictive tendencies. They say the first step to tackling a problem with alcohol is acknowledging you have one. That’s not where I am so I don’t need to go there but I am happy to admit I find it hard to give up on a good thing until it’s gone. Even simple things like tea and biscuits. I will drink the whole pot and woe betide anyone who thinks those Jaffa Cakes are for sharing.

Even in the wild, physically pushing myself, I find it hard to resist extending my enjoyment. One summer’s day a friend and I bagged four Munros in a row - twice as many as we’d planned but we were easily tempted because they looked so close. I’ve never felt so puggled in all my life. But incredibly satisfied.

All the chocolate I got for Christmas from various sources has been scoffed in flagrant breach of the GDAs printed on the wrappers. I’ve never been the sort of bloke who gets drunk for the sake of it, and sadly I’ve known too many people whose lives have been wrecked by the inability to say no to another round.

The health experts (aka Wife-features) will tell you the best advice is moderation. You can have a drink five days out of seven, apparently. You just need to avoid binges and sustained pummelling of the liver.

It’s my birthday in early February so that gives me something to aim for. Mind you, I don’t think I’ll celebrate by going on a Harry Nilsson-style bender. The last time I abstained was when Wife-features was heavily-laden with the Bump (before it became the Bairn), and when I attempted to “wet the baby’s head” in the Corriegarth pub in Inverness, I almost passed out after my first half.

Going without could also save us a few bob. I prefer artisan ales to cornershop lager and well-aged single malts to Buckie, so a trip to the wine merchant to stock up isn’t usually cheap. I have a feeling those boxes of herbal tea at the back of the kitchen cupboard are going to be pressed into action. Wish me luck!

1 comment:

  1. No Bells at the bells then :)

    I enjoy your writings from the smoke, although wouldn't trade Nairn for your big city life.

    As you are about to give up alcohol have you thought about becoming vegan? It has to be the green choice of lifestyle, and does much for the planet