Cashing in my beer vouchers

On Thursday the 7th of January, I went down to Liverpool to have a few drinks with my good friend, Bob. We had a couple of pints in the Philharmonic, followed by a couple more at the Pen Factory, chased those down with a bottle of wine, and then another a final bottle with our dinner. I guess four pints and a bottle of wine each sounds like a lot but when I arrived back in Chorley the Minx commented that I appeared more sober than usual after an afternoon out in Liverpool. 

The next morning I woke up with a clear head went about my business as usual. But that evening I didn't have a drink and, in fact, I haven't had one since. It hasn't been a 'dry January' affair, it's more, I think, the result of a few years of intermittent, low level worrying about my drinking. Most weeks, for example, I would try not to drink every night and, after a check up with my GP a couple of years ago, I've at least been aware of when I've exceeded my weekly units - i.e. most weeks - even if I haven't stuck to them.

Thing is, I love a drink and I pretty much always have done. I enjoy meeting friends for a glass or two but I've never worried about drinking on my own and nothing beats cracking open a beer when you get in from work on a sunny day, not that that is a regular feature of life in Cumbria. But a glass of wine in front of the fire with a good book and some music? Absolutely, bloody perfect.

I must say that since I gave up, I haven't slept any better; it takes me longer to get to sleep and sometimes I'm very drowsy in the mornings, plus I seem more likely to wake up in the night. It hasn't noticeably affected my running or swimming for the better, although I must say that despite going off the rails diet-wise - I ate a tub of chocolate ice cream last week, for example - I've steadily lost a pound a week. I have, however, felt like a million bucks pretty much the whole time.

It has also occurred to me that I always seemed to have a little more money in my wallet, which isn't surprising because I worked out that, on average, I was spending over ten pounds a day on drink. Consequently, I started putting a tenner a day in a kitty for myself and these are the first spoils; a new guitar, stand, lead, and amplifier. 

So, is that it? Am I teetotal? 

I don't think so. I mean, I don't particularly want to be That Guy. Once it became apparent that I'd stopped drinking, I gave myself permission to drink when I wanted to but so far I've not taken myself up on the offer. I took a bottle of fizz up to the shepherd's hut on Sunday, for example, but we didn't open it, and I've been out for meals and even to the pub, and found myself quite genuinely and surprisingly happy with a pint of lime and soda. The couple of occasions when the Minx has poured herself a drink haven't bothered me at all.

For now, though, I'm happy. I enjoy the extra hours in my day and the almost constant feeling of wellbeing. It's been a bonus to find I don't need to worry about what I eat, too. I don't want to think I'll never drink again but, actually, apart from right now or when I'm talking about it, I don't think about it much. Funnily enough, one of the only things I worry about is other people inferring that I might be be judgmental about their drinking. To be clear, I'm not! It's just for me.