A plan for sobriety.

Sobriety, I find, takes planning. Not just because keeping busy helps stave off the anxiety that ends in a Sainsbury’s wine aisle, but because drinking takes up so much time that you have to find a use for all those extra minutes.

So I am planning the sober weekend ahead. What will I do with my precious time?

Enjoy the buzz.

By “buzz”, I mean sprawling on my bed listening to something very serious on Radio 4 while scrolling through Pinterest for pictures of cats in bow ties, falling into a deep deep and spending eight hours having action-packed and slightly erotic dreams, then waking up when my own cat sits on my head. And that, dear reader, is how I roll.

Go for a long cycle ride.

It will hurt and I will sweat horribly and someone in an Audi will try to kill me for looking sexy in a hi-vis workman’s tunic, but it’ll all be worth it to find myself on the A212 ring road so high on endorphins I start giggling when I go over speed bumps. (I do worry if this is something to do with the perimenopause.)

Spend a lot of time in the kitchen.

Embarking on sobriety is no time to be embarking on a diet. In omitting wine calories, I reserve the right to replace them with pie calories. If puff pastry causes hangovers, I have yet to experience it.

Designate myself as driver.

I will go out, sip San Pellegrino like it’s prosecco, have fun, enjoy the music, then put my beloved in the passenger seat and drive him into the sunset. Or at least as far as the A212 ring road.

Read voraciously.

Harnessing a week of sober mental clarity, I will get stuck into some challenging academic reading, some Big Important Novel reading and then top it off with that nutrition feature about cheeseburgers I saw in Men’s Health.

Drink a lot of posh squash.

My kitchen counter runneth over with every kind of high-end cordial that I can never justify when spending twenty quid on an evening’s drinking. I will dilute this expensive beverage with sparkling Badoit, because I like saying “baaadwahhhhh” in a crap French accent, and I will glug from the largest wine glass that I can find in the cupboard. 

And for all these good deeds, I will not reward myself with a glass of wine.

Because that would be rather stupide, n’est-ce pas?

– Soeur Temperance


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