Dry January is hardly a new concept and when I mentioned I
had taken it on I had a few ‘underwhelmed’ responses, like, ‘I am doing it
anyway and not asking for money.’ Not that I was asking for money for myself,
but for the golf club's chosen charity of SCaRF. It was actually a spur of the moment decision taken on Dec 31st and one I quickly began to regret.
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| Customary tipple |
First of all I may not be a heavy drinker but for the past
few years (starting with a job where I wasn’t happy and needed the
six o’clock pick me up) I had become – despite giving up that job - a very regular one. Some nights you just
deserve it, right? Other times you just need it! So despite the eye-rolling from golfing buddies oblivious to my off the course habits, I knew it
wouldn’t be easy. A few people did issue warnings – January? The very worst
month for self-imposed sobriety! And so much longer than February! Too late, the
die was cast, a sponsorship list was already in the making.
The first few days were hard but I was psyched up for
resisting temptation. Then towards the end of week one, a family emergency arose which necessitated an unplanned trip to Spain. Just arranging
the transport at short notice (chosen town is off the usual budget airline track) was enough to make the idea of a drink very
appealing, then there was the journey. Who would ever know if I sneaked a
g&t somewhere over France?
Alcohol had become a way to de-stress but I decided there would have to be
other ways. And although I was missing the taste of wine quite a lot there
were fewer temptations when away from my usual routine. By the time I came home I was two
weeks in – half way there. Yes, I could do it.
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| Conviviality denied |
However the other thing I had forgotten to take into account was
that January in our house is a birthday month – not mine but Mr B's and that of a close friend. Cue big steaks and bottles of red. Non-alco drinks were very
poor substitutes. Then final ‘birthday treat’ was a pretty big occasion - a
Burns supper held on HMS warrior in Portsmouth.
Hot toddies on arrival and tables set out with open wine bottles. The ship
though fascinating was a bit chilly and as the pre-dinner songs and banter
went on, the need for something warming became pretty irresistible. I have to say
this was the lowest point of the entire month and I gave up conversing with
anyone except to snarl ‘no thanks’ every time the bottle was passed my
way.
After that the last week was a doddle – er, except for the
small matter of a tooth extraction. I’ve always found whisky one of the best
antidotes to tooth pain but on this occasion I stuck with the Ibuprofen. By the magic date of Feb 1st I was not so much triumphant as mentally drained!
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| Raspberry with Ginger actually works |
So how dry did I go? I know people who have gone dry and stayed that way and there were a few moments when I thought there might be no real reason to go back to alcohol. On the other hand I couldn't honestly l say I felt better - as many people enquired - through not drinking. Yes I was sleeping a bit better but I usually sleep quite well anyway and there were other factors making me more settled at night. Nor did I lose any weight, perhaps because I felt the need to drink something at the drinking hour and tried a range of soft drinks, some more pleasing - or sugary - than others. And there is, as I discovered on the evening of Feb 1st, the warm glow of a nice glass of red. Why deny myself one of life's pleasures?
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| The comfort of chocolate a la taza ! |
So have my habits changed? Yes, I like to think so. I don't reach for the bottle automatically every night at 6 pm (or earlier!) but wait for the meal to be on the table or save it for a night-cap. I also find my tolerance has decreased - one glass really is enough and two makes me feel pretty inebriated. I also try to think about what or why I want to drink. If I'm just thirsty, water or a soft drink will do. On another trip to Spain I had a couple of beers and avoided plonk until a restaurant meal when we had a very nice red recommended by the waiter. If 'mindful drinking' is a misnomer, I think I have at least given up mindless consumption.
And the money? At least £350 in the charity coffers for my efforts. That gives me a warm glow too.
Cheers!
Ali Bacon writes contemporary and historical fiction. In the Blink of an Eye, a fictional account of the life of artist and photographer D. O. Hill was published by Linen Press in 2018. Contact her via https://alibacon.com or Twitter @AliBacon
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