WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE A DRINK ATTACHED TO IT?

Let’s go for a walk with the dogs shall we? We can stick on our boots, wear comfy clothes and if it gets too cold, we can stop off in a nice little pub to warm up with a pint?

Fancy a bit of shopping? We can leave the car, jump on a tube without much of a plan and see where the day takes us, have a mooch around Harvey Nichols and pop up to the 5th floor for a glass of bubbles (a bottle or two) along the way?

We should catch up! It’s been an eternity! What shall we do?? Lunch? Yep. Wine? Defo. Done.

Mate, I could really do with a chat, fancy a beer after work?

First date… cinema’s are a bit quiet, food can feel a bit formal. Slurping noodles is a bit messy, so let’s meet at Dinerama on Great Eastern Street? We can have a drink, and graze as we go along if we get hungry?

Or we could try Smoking Goat on Redchurch Street? If there’s a wait for a table we can pop to the Ace hotel for a quick drink while we wait?

I really fancy a steak – could murder an Old Fashioned as well.

Let’s have a roast – it’d be sacrilegious to not have a bottle of red to help wash it down.

Tom Grennan’s playing a gig for save the children and I’m doing a few songs at The Box afterwards… Tequila?

It’s cold… all I wanna do is find somewhere cosy for a mulled cider with a splash of rum.

It’s finally starting to warm up and it’s sunny out, all I wanna do is sit in a beer garden.

It’s so and so’s birthday, gotta go out.

It’s the 15th Christmas party I’ve been invited to but it’d be rude not to show face.

It’s NYE, gotta see in the new year with a cheers!

It’s my birthday! Emphasis on DAY, which is completely irrelevant as it’s now more of a week.

Speaking of weeks, I’ve had a long one – I could really do with a blow out to de-stress, and a hangover when I go back to work tomorrow is really gonna help.

Everything has a bloody drink attached to it. Everything.

And everything is easier if you’re drinking. Or so it would seem. After all, how will I excuse my behaviour if I don’t drink?! All of a sudden I become exposed as a man who at times makes entirely rational yet still bad, and at times, terrible decisions. And I can’t blame alcohol, because I’m sober.

Even still, the most annoying part of not drinking isn’t being unable to excuse bad decisions / behaviour: it’s other people.

I tried and lost count of the amount of people who in varying tones asked me why I’m not drinking, suggested I have ‘just one’ (which I am entirely capable of, I swear), or just called me boring on a night out.

What is it about alcohol that’s so entirely engrained in British culture?

Maybe the answer is in the question; it’s long been engrained in British culture. Villages were built around the pub – the social hub of the villages built. The PUBlic house.

I’ve written earlier this year about us being weapons of mass consumption – I actually went off alcohol for the best part of four months earlier this year and I felt bloody fantastic. But eventually I felt bloody boring.

The festive period hasn’t long been upon us but I’ve had enough already. My insides hate me. I’ve been relatively good in-between binge drinking, drinking copious amounts of water and green tea, not to mention high doses of Vit-C powder to try and keep all the germs flying around at bay, but alas I have failed. No more hair of the dog for me, the dog is bald. I’m getting a head start on dry Jan (which last year become dry Jan – April).

I’m actually flirting with the idea of sobriety…

Flirting is all well and good, though we all know where first dates usually land us – at the bar.

Not sure I’m ready for a women who’d take a green juice over an Old Fashioned with Remy anyway.

Happy Christmas.

Love,

The Grinch

Illustration by Berta Vallo.