Alcohol-free lockdown

Well, it must be a record. The last alcoholic drink I had was on 16th March, so a month and a bit more has passed since my last one. I know this because my Alcohol Diary (another spreadsheet, an offshoot of my Food Diary) says so.

I'm both pleased and displeased. Pleased, because it has helped to keep my Slimming World syns low, and I am now steadily losing weight again. Displeased, because it's a reminder that my social life has vanished, or at least become completely electronic, with myself as just one face on a shared Houseparty screen.

I think I've mentioned before that I only drink in company - meaning a real-life meal or get-together in a pub, restaurant, or someone's house. I never drink at home, unless I'm putting on a meal for friends. It follows that during this lockdown, when I'm eating all my meals at home, I have stuck to water, tea or coffee, and nothing else.

And I haven't felt the slightest urge to open the one bottle of wine in the house. And I could go on like this indefinitely, without feeling deprived. It's no effort at all.

There's no driving force behind this. I haven't gone teetotal. Nor am I trying to detox. Nor do I want to claim credit for great will-power, nor unswerving adherence to a personal principle. I simply haven't fancied a drink in my home surroundings. Once the lockdown ends, once social distancing is eased, I will doubtless return to my normal consumption of wine and gin.

Mind you, that consumption is modest, and has been gradually getting less. My Alcohol Diary includes every drink, and I work out the unit value each time. The end-of-year average, expressed in units per week, has been in decline since the Diary began in 2016:

2016     Average weekly units 10.4
2017     Average weekly units 8.6
2018     Average weekly units 8.6
2019     Average weekly units 7.7
2020     Average weekly units 5.1 (so far)

I would presently call myself a 'light social drinker'. The way things are going, a better description will be 'very light social drinker'!

I've noticed a trend that has definitely made me reluctant to drink to excess: as I've got older, my gut has grown less tolerant of alcohol. Simply put, it can upset my tummy if I drink too much. So can eating certain types of food. Since switching to a Slimming-World-compliant food regime towards the end of 2016, I've used nothing but fresh ingredients, and I cook simple meals very simply. Elaborate cooking with foodstuffs never eaten at home, rich sauces, fancy desserts and suchlike often give me indigestion nowadays. I'm not saying that I can always resist it - I'm always up for a curry, for instance, and I have a penchant for a yummy cheesecake - but if I do indulge, then I may regret it. And the same is true of speciality drinks. My tolerance would be greater if I abandoned SW guidelines; but I'm not going to do that, as it keeps my weight in check.

How different all this is to how it used to be. When working - I am speaking now of the 1970s, 1980s and early 1990s especially - I had to cope with a heavy-drinking work culture, winked at (and abetted) by senior management. It was no exaggeration to say that back then a male or female member of staff who joined the boss in a prolonged drinking binge on Friday would earn his approval, and quite possibly a recommendation for promotion. A refusal did not go down at all well. It made you seem prim, strait-laced, and Not The Right Material For Higher Things. I recall a male colleague who never drank, preferring to 'hold the fort' when all around were partying, being called a 'wanker' by my boss at the time. Even then, that was a bit strong; but being able to imbibe in an epic fashion most definitely got you a gold star.

I confess to playing the game, and getting the expected reward - despite suffering many a consequential hangover, usually well-concealed. At least I never embarrassed myself. Some of the men were legendary for overdoing it. There was a story, probably exaggerated, of a top visiting Inspecting Officer who passed out from too much boozing, and was found by the police unconscious in the gutter. The feeling was that if an IO could behave like that, it must be fine for the rest of us to drink our heads off.

I wasn't sorry when a greater sense of professionalism came in during the later 1990s, and the drinking was toned down considerably. But even my day of retirement in 2005, down at the Spread Eagle in Croydon, was something of a bacchanalia.

What was my most remarkable alcoholic feat (meaning having a huge amount to drink, yet remaining clear-headed enough to function, and in particular to eat a cooked breakfast within a few hours)? Undoubtedly it was that night in the late 1980s, when attending a course at a hotel in Leeds. I got caught up in a late-night boozy chinwag between my colleagues from the Inland Revenue and people from Customs & Excise, also there on a course of their own. The two departments were separate entities then, and although friendly enough, there was still a certain rivalry. This included drinking capacity. To cut a long story short, one by one the party was whittled down as people fell by the wayside and staggered drunkenly off to bed. But I managed - I don't know how - to stay the pace, and eventually there was just me and a very hard Customs man. He finally conceded at 2.00am, possibly from politeness, and I was left victorious. I remember walking over to the bar and apologising to the poor barman for keeping him up so late. I set an early alarm: I intended to appear at breakfast, and nonchalantly help myself to a full English. And did. Fried bread and all. The green-faced Customs people saw this (as I hoped they would) and waved weakly to me, smiling in grudging admiration. Secretly, of course, I had a thumping headache, and found it hard to concentrate, but that was all.

I had upheld the honour of the Revenue. And in saying that, perhaps I'm giving a clue as to why it was so important to be a well-practised drinker in the Revenue. It was almost a sporting contest.

I couldn't do it now, of course.