So, don’t get excited, I didn’t have a sober month- let’s not get carried away. But I did go through my longest period without drinking in probably some years (pre university).
At the start of the month I bought a crate of beer, within a week it was gone and so I agreed to not buy any more beer until the end of the month.
Did I manage?
Strictly speaking no. Over the next three weeks I had a glass of red wine, a craft beer at a food festival and well actually that’s it.
Quite good going
Was it easy?
Yes and no.
Yes, because there wasn’t really any urge to have more- aside from when I saw it in the shop and time like that.
No, because I was quite aware that were I alone I wouldn’t have managed it.
That’s not to say my family ‘got me through’ anything, just that I was scared of my partner kicking my ass. That’s not really fair, in reality she simply serves as a small reminder that I had pledged not to drink. She’s also very scary.
It’s strange, whilst I felt no urge to drink (though I’d have liked to) it was always there
– I could drink
– I’d like a drink
– I want to drink
But at no point did I ‘need’ to drink.
So it wasn’t some big learning experience, I simply experienced more proof that I don’t want to stop, and I probably couldn’t. However, drinking a crate in a week is well beyond a sensible amount. It’s too much, I’m not a carefree student anymore.
This week I bought another crate. It’s the 3rd today and the case isn’t yet open, so the chances of it being gone by the 7th are slim. But I also fully intend to ration myself.
No, not ration- that suggests a specific limit. But I will not buy any more beer this month. So if I drink it, it’s gone.
Now, of course I’m in the pub right now so I’m drinking beer. Were I at home the crate would likely be open and I’d have a few drinks.
Where does that leave me?
So, tonight I made the mistake of popping into my local pub for a quick pint. This isn’t an issue in and of itself, except that its a local pub full of local people.
For background, I didn’t run today because my back was sore, so instead it went for a walk to try and stretch it out. On the way back. I passed the local and thought I’d pop in for a quick one.
I walk through the door and see one old fella at the bar. In these situations you leave, unfortunately the barmaid caught my eye and gave me a cheery ‘hello’ – probably desperate for any other human company.
So I buy a pint, sit at a table and plan to get it done as soon as I can.
The old fella starts talking to the barmaid about being a carer, so my interested is piqued, I listen subtly as he moans and complains about how awful it is that when he wants to sit in the garden and drink a beer she calls him because she needs a wee. I forget now, but I called him on something and then get stuck in a conversation about being a carer myself.
He offers to buy me a drink so immediately I know I can’t say no, and then will have to return the favour.
During our ‘conversation’ more patrons have arrived and I’m somehow on the outskirts of this clique. I quietly drink my pint with the intention of leaving, when something needs a response.
It’s not my fault, sometimes my brain/mouth works ahead of my common sense, and I can’t help but right the wrongs that I hear.
The guy says to his mates “she’s [some relative in prison] done something wrong and lost her privileges for two weeks.”
Now, at this point, the smart man would take another gulp and hurry on his way, but no. I Have to react, it’s just a simple comment, but I regret it now.
“Oh, so a lot like being in a real prison then?”
I wasn’t beaten up, it wasn’t even taken with any great offence, but for just a moment I was a little worried I was going to be integral to the new cellar floor.
Not long after I get up to leave, only to hear a rather large guy at the bar state “my diet allows me 500 calories a day, a pints about 150 so don’t let me buy more than three.”
So, I haven’t talked about the holiday yet, I can summarise it as a truly fantastic time spent with my partner, the food was great, the hotel comfortable, the city pleasant.
For now I have a few things to say about the beer.
We all know Germans like beer, they have it in steins and everyone’s happy. Well yes, that’s true, and it’s really that simple. Beer isn’t a get drunk affair, it’s a drink it and enjoy.
I had a fair few steins of various beers, I had beers morning noon and night and it was accepted. No judgement, and also no drunk Germans either. In fact the only time we saw drunk people were the English in the beer hall.
It’s not unusual to see people in the street during the day with a beer, all shops and kiosks sell them, and it’s a pleasant way to be. Drinking just isn’t a big deal, if you want one, have one. Simple.
Clearly it’s something like this approach that we Brits looked for with the 24 hour licensing laws, but unfortunately those same Brits drink to get drunk, it isn’t the same thing at all.
I did have one small problem with the beer though, or at least the lager. It was the continental head. The continental head of course involves filling half the glass with foam (or fur as my daughter calls it). This is fine, it looks good, unfortunately the foam doesn’t taste of much, and I see it as a half empty,glass. I like the standard centimetre head with beer, I don’t want a wad of foam on top.
Fortunately this only happened once. And actually it’s ok, the glass sizes are far better than the standard British pint
So, Iv been maintaining a list of things I want to talk about as blog posts, some of them serious life things, some of them ordinary hobby bits and others just little things that occur to me that I have something to say about.
This list started at a point when I couldn’t spend the time writing, and expanded from there, and now it’s causing me problems,
The first problem is my OCD towards completing things, I get a real satisfaction from finishing a toilet roll, or reducing the pile of books i haven’t read yet, though I also like to add to these things (not the toilet roll, but the books). Whilst I can write about something on the list and then cross it off, it will then spark a replacement or trigger a whole load of additional things to talk about.
This then leads me onto the next problem, with so many things I want to talk about, vent, explain, discuss I then either can’t decide which to do next, or lose the point of what I wanted to say, or at least the stimulus of the topic isn’t there so I lose the ability to do so.
Right now the list is quite extensive, but as I’m currently sat here doing very little I don’t have that need to write about them. To tell the truth, my partners away for the night to attend a dentistry course in Cardiff, whilst I’m led on the new (and very expensive sofa) drinking beer and watching the expendables (another post on the way then).
The sink is full of dishes, there’s washing to go out, the dishwashers beeping for attention, but last night the boy was awake most of the night, whilst mummy did her best impression of a corpse- aside from the snoring, that’s a giveaway. This meant it was daddies job to look after him. I’m not complaining, I’m his dad and I’d do anything for him, but it’s now left me a little tired, so I’m not capable of doing much beyond lying here vegetating.
Anyway, Jet Li’s just had a punch up with Dolph Lundgren and it’s getting violent, so I need to get back to it