I fell off the Dry January wagon on Saturday. Jennifer and I went off to Salisbury and found ourselves almost instantly tipsy on red wine before retiring home early (after a fantastic Thai meal). Our capacity for booze was severely weakened by 31 days clean.

I did the same yesterday when we had the kids around for a hearty roast dinner that featured red wine then gin. Gin goes down the throat far too easily and I had too much of it.

Morbid State

This left me in a kind of morbid state today. My working day was riddled by self-inflicted errors and doubt over my ability to perform. With plenty of water on board and a long walk, I felt better by dusk, but it was a largely wasted Monday.

It got me thinking about how upbeat and sprightly I felt throughout January. It’s amazing what the booze and indeed, lack of it, does to my mental and physical state.

January can be a dismal month, so I can understand why some people feel they need a drink to get through it. However, I don’t think dark damp days and booze after effects are something I could indulge in again. It causes too much of an imbalance with my happy cells.

I find dry January interesting as it gets me wondering what my life would have been without booze in it. It would have certainly been less of a roller coaster and there is every chance I would have been more of a success. Perhaps it would be a life of trying to be the best rather than avoiding being the worst?

Back in the Day!

Back in the days when I was employed by companies and not myself, I used to hate it when someone useless got sacked. In my mind, it edged me closer to the relegation zone. I only got by because the customers who did give me business were also boozers; without them I would have been done for. Luckily being half pissed in the workplace was all the rage in the 80’s and 90’s, so I survived, occasionally in inexplicably raucous circumstances.  

The good thing about booze making me feel lethargic and full of self-doubt in my middle age is that I really can’t be arsed to drink during the week anymore. It was amazing how easy it was to break that habit and my little business is, consequently, far more organised. Procrastination it would appear, is in my DNA. Fortunately, it has only taken 30 years to realise alcohol brings out the worst of it in me.

Into the final week of January, I had all but forgotten that I was a drinker and I even briefly wondered whether I would bother drinking again. Then I realised that one of the things I really enjoy, is a good pub crawl in a proper old town like Salisbury. We went to some excellent little pubs on Saturday.

I am happy not to bother drinking in the week; I just don’t have that desire anymore. However, I am not ready to rule out the odd drunken pub crawl occasionally, not just yet.

I wonder if those boozy customers would have given me the business had I been a teetotaller?

I doubt it.