Wine Free and Almost Whine Free

“Let’s do the Dryathlon thingy in January!” is something I said when I was drunk, sometime in December – or maybe November. I dunno, I like wine, it could have been any time.

Of course, in the sober light of morning, I changed my mind. Until the next time I’d had too much wine (probably the next day) and, “Let’s do the Dryathlon thingy in January!” came tumbling out of my mouth again.

It was clearly something I wanted to do, wasn’t it? Really? Deep down?

I signed up (while drunk), and set my fundraising target at a low-end £100 (loads of folk do Dryathlon and I didn’t want friends to feel obliged to donate or to have to donate too much) and then dedicated myself to drinking as much as I could for the whole of December, culminating in our annual Hogmanay party where I broke a personal best for guzzling copious amounts of Cava and Prosecco. I stopped drinking at 5 am, and even then I only stopped because everyone else was going home or off to bed. I had to accept it was over. The time had come for the fun to end. I tidied up and went to bed at about 6 am, really looking forward to the month of abstention ahead. I was going to get so healthy and fit and happy. Yep. Definitely.

On January 1^st I woke at noon. I was ill. Hungover? Well, yeah, obviously (was there any Cava or Prosecco left in the world that day – I doubt it?) but also a sore head, a hacking cough and general chest cold symptoms. Rough. Really rough. I dragged myself through the day, cooked and ate some steak pie, washed down with alcohol free red wine.

Yes, that’s right, alcohol free wine. It’s wine that’s had the alcohol ‘carefully removed’. I’m one of those people who needs the crutch – the wine glass, filled with a wine-like substance. My brain needs to believe I’m still part of this civilised world where a glass of red with dinner is not only okay, it’s the best part of dinner. Thanks to my chest cold, it didn’t taste too bad. Thanks to my chest cold, days one to six were absolutely fine because I didn’t really feel like drinking at all.

Then came day 7. The chest cold symptoms not quite so bad. Still the horrendous cough, but no longer feeling so rough. Alcohol free wine tastes like cherry juice. Slightly warm cherry juice. I want proper wine. Unfortunately, we are surrounded by it. Everything that was left after the party is still here. About half a dozen bottles of Cava and Prosecco and a few bottles of champagne - they’re actually very easy to resist - but the box of Shiraz, the bottle of Wolf Blass red, the bottle of McGuigan’s red, those three are killing me as they stand there, flaunting their deliciousness.

And they’re not just delicious; they’ll make me feel all warm and fuzzy and smiley and happy. And I've not been well. and it's been a whole week. And I've almost doubled my fundraising target anyway. And no one would know.

But, of course, they’ll also make me feel like shit in the morning, stain my teeth even further, add more empty calories to my day, stop me from sleeping – and as a chronic insomniac, I don’t really need any help in that department – and replacing them will further deplete my beleaguered bank balance. And I signed up for a month, not a week. And those people who donated donated on the condition that I stick this out. And I'd know.

Tut.

So I will hold strong. Only another 24 days to go. It’ll be fine. It’ll be good. And come February 1^st, I’ll be the cheapest date ever.

Gies another glass of that … water. Cheers.

*For those who don't know, Dryathlon is a fundraiser for Cancer Research. Participants stop drinking alcohol for the month of January. It's torture.