H ow do you know someone has stopped drinking? Don’t worry, they’ll tell you. The old vegan joke comes into my mind a lot as yet again I start talking about how my life has transformed since I gave up booze. But people mostly humour me, sometimes even seek me out.
It’s amazing the number of conversations I’ve had at parties where friends with whom I used to get hammered now sidle up to me between their fourth and fifth drink and mutter about how they’re starting to wonder about whether they should quit, too. As long as I don’t use the A-word. Alcoholic.
That doesn’t make anyone comfortable. You weren’t that bad . And if your definition encompasses literal gutters, I wasn’t (though I’ve fallen off a fair few pavements in my time).
Leonard Cohen’s words from You Want It Darker could have been written for me: “I struggle with some demons, they were middle-class and tame.” Making a fool of myself on one bottle too many of barolo at a dinner party is hardly alcoholism, after all. But I think I was that bad.
However respectable your dinner parties or expensive the alcohol you knock back, there are only so many blackouts a middle-aged mum should have. I was just lucky that the structures of my life were enough in place that my alcohol-use disorder remained highly functional and that I’ve been able to address it without too much drama. Hopefully, even in time.
In a recent piece by former Loaded editor Martin Deeson in the Times , he quotes Ozzy Osbourne: �.