I am a sloth and I don't care!

Bank holidays – made for lying in bed! Ah - the pleasure of being old enough to do what I want and child-free, so that’s exactly how they pan out for me now and do I feel guilty? Do I heck!!

We did go out for some of the weekend, but enjoyed a mostly lazy one as we have such a lot coming up over the next few weeks. The highlight was dinner on Saturday eve, at a place we went for my birthday last year, just down the road from London Bridge. We decided a while ago to stop frittering money on your average weekly takeaway and saving ourselves for a monthly blow-out somewhere really exquisite. The treat factor is the benefit of this approach, as I even justified buying a new dress that day for the occasion!! As it was gorgeous and sunny we had a pre-dinner walk along the south bank and then a meal to remember. All of it was beautiful, tis just a shame that my very favourite bit, the hazelnut ice-cream, was actually on K’s plate!!!

I was chatting to my friend A yesterday about the meal, and explaining how not drinking has made me realise how over-important the wine aspect had become. A hasn’t drunk much at all of late, given that she is still having treatment and currently in the middle of her radiotherapy, so she could appreciate the sentiment. Enjoying a meal sans vino has recently become a pleasurable new experience, but I have to acknowledge now that so many of the fabulous dinners I have been fortunate enough to eat over the years are but a blur in the memory. I always thought primarily about the wine, enjoyed that aspect tremendously and recalled the food vaguely as being very nice. I’ve eaten in some of Europe’s best hotels and restaurants and yet virtually none of the food I consumed can be recalled. I could easily tell you, however, how many bottles of wine were drunk and what state I was in when the meal ended, on each and every occasion.

The fact is, my eye has always been on the bottle; seeing whether there was a need to order to another and how much was left for me if others in the party wanted some. God, being so very frank about it makes me sound terribly greedy, but the fact is, I always made sure I got my fair share (and a tad more if I could swing it). I would happily offer my chips or whatever to anyone who asked, but if someone dared to touch the wine, they’d get the death stare from me, as chance are they were about to ruin my carefully calculated divisions.

I can vividly recall the discomfort of being somewhere when the wine allocation was out of my control. I loathed being with my ex-boyfriend and visiting his family, as they took rationing to another level! I remember us both looking aghast at his uncle pouring a glass of wine each for a table of 6 and putting the cork back in on a remaining inch of red! It simply never occurred to us that everyone’s glassful was enough (being about 100ml) as we considered a 250ml glass ‘just a cheeky one’ and as for leaving some, ‘hello?’

When I stayed with friends in Gerona who hardly drink at all, I wasn’t alone in feeling ‘parched’ as my Dutch friends who were also visiting, snuck out with me onto the balcony when the other couple had gone to bed for what little was left in the one bottle they had opened that eve. My friend S and I had been and bought wine for the meal from the local shop, at least 3 bottles, but it never crossed our minds that the host and hostess would stop at less than one!

Each of the incidents above is clearly branded into my psyche, but ask me what I ate at The Lanesborough in London in 1998, or Le Dome in Paris in 2007 and I’d be lying if I said I could. I know it makes me sound avaricious, and to be honest I probably am, but I can only hope that I hid it well. I could quite easily have imagined ordering one very good glass of wine on Saturday night if I’d been ready to try just the one, but I am definitely nowhere near that stage. I am actually relieved that whilst a year is suddenly feeling like a very long time, this is the deadline I have set in stone. Any sooner and the lessons to be learnt about consumption could be forgotten just as quickly. I do feel stronger about my attitude already, but my resolve could be broken in a split second once I actually tasted some alcohol, so I am revelling in having completed a month and am relishing another eleven. OK, OK, there will be days when I wish to God I’d said 6 months instead, but if it doesn’t cause me some sort of pain from sacrifice, I am being far too kind to my soul. I know that only when I can truly understand how it felt to say no, when the urge was immense, will I ‘get’ why I am doing this challenge. I haven’t reached that point yet, but will definitely share it with you when I do.