Increasingly, I have friends who are sober-curious, but it is not a state that I have yet to recognise in myself. Like most of the great British public, I have a very social relationship with the strong stuff. Any occasion, any time, I seem to find an appropriate tipple to be had. Sundays are not the same without taking a sherry to the bath, or a pint of champagne to bed (when one has company).
Friends who have done recovery programmes are to be applauded, encouraged and supported. However, thankfully for me, it has never tipped over. I enjoy a drink – the flavours, the rituals, the bonding abilities, the social lubrication.
Hearing that some people are seeking Christmas sober coaching is a revelation — sheer will-power clearly belongs to the twentieth century. Just swap that brandy for a bitter lemon if you feel you’re a step away from getting handsy. One of the first things google tells you when you tap in ‘Sober Coach’ is the very Brit response: “is it illegal to drink alcohol on a coach?”. The answer, for those of you who enjoy coach travel, is thankfully no. Your M&S G&T tins are safe. The odd lads holiday, when I was encouraged to drink pints at 7am at Gatwick, can happily be left to my youth, but it does raise a smile when I see a group gathering in a ‘Spoons in Terminal 2 as I waltz to my ski flight.
Mainlining eggnog at 9am, mid-week, mid-December, to get through your day? Perhaps it is time to think about consulting a Sober Coach. Having a wee shandy with a colleague at lunchtime? You’re in little danger of going full Mad Men. Sober life is all good as long as one doesn’t become messianic in displacement activity. I have a deep distrust of ultra-marathon runners, and their ability to be good company. If you’ve given up drinking as a pastime, why not try upholstery? Far chicer than lycra, and we all know there is nothing fun about a Fun Run.
Like many involved in hospitality, much of my work revolves around a glass or three — drinking at lunchtime is still very much part of my lexicon. Champagne before the first course arrives will always make you and your guests feel gloriously Ab Fab, and can’t be replicated by something from the ‘tea pairing’ menu. If you’re going to drink, drink like a 1990s book publicist.
Most chic is a dressing drink. Not a WKD with the girlies before you hit the club, but a charming G&T to help choose which velvet number to retrieve from your wardrobe. Should I give it all up, what would I do with my glassware?! My 1920s martini glasses are hardly going to be appropriate for zero alcohol beer.
I realise I am probably making myself out to be sozzled the entire time, but I do have my limits, and know when to cool it off. Pausing for a coffee should be a key part of the Epicurean repertoire.
I realise I am probably making myself out to be sozzled the entire time, but I do have my limits, and know when to cool it off
Indulging myself is one of my favourite hobbies, and like all indulgence, preparation is key. When it comes to going for it, set it all out. Milk thistle really works, as does remembering to eat. Ready the next day by taking dehydration salts as you go to bed (put in glass before you go out), and remember to wash your face and pop on that serum on your return, even if you’re seeing a Picasso staring back at you in the bathroom mirror.
I am very fortunate that despite being in my 40s, I don’t get hangovers — just a little tiredness. On visiting the VivaMayr clinic in Austria a few years back (a semi-medical health spa), they prodded and poked me, then told me I had a ‘super liver’. “Mr Conway” (cue Germanic accent) “it appears you process alcohol veh veh efficiently. Vee do not endorse your drinking, but you seem to be good at it”. Perhaps they should have told me otherwise. Now where is that martini trolley?
