The end of January is nigh.
And I, for one, am delighted.
That’s because for the past month I’ve been on this stupid Dry January. I say stupid because that’s what it is.
S-T-U-P-I-D.
I’ve only been doing it in support of my husband who, on New Year’s Eve, vowed over a pint of Tally Ho that it would be the last alcoholic drink to pass his lips for the next thirty-one days.
Being the kind of person I am, I thought I’d go on the journey with him. I’ve done it in previous years and I’ve also abstained from the dreaded firewater for several Lents, just because I can. I am not a heavy drinker, so this was not going to be a problem.
But, to be honest, it’s been hell. I can count the times I’ve fancied a nice glass of red wine on thirty fingers. The occasions when I wouldn’t have minded sitting down on a Sunday evening to Vera with a gin and tonic or even an Ouzo can be counted on another thirty fingers.
I couldn’t have chosen a worse month.
I’ve been to Athens for five days and endured…sorry, enjoyed…a bottle of Amstel Light with my souvlaki. I’ve toasted my new shed with a glass of elderflower cordial and sparkling mineral water while my two guests had limitless Cava.
I’ve been in the village pub a number of times this month and I’ve almost made myself sick on Becks Blue.
I’ve been to a big, sit-down meal in London to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the longest-running woman’s weekly magazine in the world and drunk Coca Cola. I’ve gone up to the capital with friends to watch the raving-mad Don Quixote on the stage and enjoyed a back-stage glass of orange juice while my friends had Bucks Fizz.
This is quite possibly the worst decision I’ve made in years.
Because what have I done instead? Singlehandedly, I’ve finished up the Christmas chocolate. And when I’ve had about as much as I can stomach from the selection boxes and tins of Roses and Heroes, I’ve tucked surreptitiously into the posh family packs of crisps from Lidl.
Consequently, I haven’t lost any weight. But, to be fair to myself, neither have I put any on.
This is my last-ever Dry January.
Here’s to doing everything in moderation. I’ll drink to that.
