La vie en rose

We went for dinner yesterday evening at our local Thai, to celebrate the anniversary in a low-key way. Tomorrow we are off to the Ritz for the real treat, but it was nice to do something on the day all the same. I told K how proud I was of him and I know that this meant a lot. He gets up every day and does the same thing week in week out, so to tell him once a year that I respect and admire him for his willpower, strength, courage and commitment is no big deal.

I didn't drink (naturally, some would say as I made my pledge just yesterday!!) which was slightly odd though no hardship, as I always have a glass of rose when I go there, whilst K has the ubiquitous sparkling water (on which we spend about £30 a week between us!!).
One thing I have come to realise about my wine consumption is the amount I have drunk in the past that I have barely enjoyed. No offence to the innocent restaurant, but it is very ordinary 'table wine' that is rarely chilled and usually from a bottle uncorked many days ago! The pleasure of drinking this is clearly negligible, were it not for the alcoholic haze that it helps induce.

It has really made me think about the amount of alcohol that I must have consumed over the years with scant regard for the taste or quality. From a warm G&T in a pub with colleagues on a crowded Friday eve, to some really rough red wine at the end of the evening when the 'good stuff' has run out, I am quite appalled at the thought of what has passed my lips in the name of drinking.

It's obviously not the first time that I've had this thought. It's a common theme when one wakes up on a weekend with a mouth like a badger's arse and a very sore head, with hazy recollections of the previous night out. But being aware and actually doing something about it are not necessarily linked. Usually there has been another good excuse to drink coming up that very evening (hair of the dog anyone?) and saying no is often futile. It's like climbing on a really scary roller coaster that doesn't ever stop - the highs outweigh the stomach-clenching lows and you grin and bear your way through the first one before starting to enjoy the next few glasses. Question is, why go through such pain for some fleeting pleasure which frequently leaves you out of your comfort zone or even out of control? Sobering thoughts.