Thursday, 23 May 2013

Pass me the Anadin , I'm in my mid forties.

So I like alcohol.
 Not all types of it, infact I only really like 4 types.
1. Red Wine
2. Vodka
3. Cider
4. Bubbles - but only really at Christmas
I also quite like the odd gin and tonic, occassionally a Pimms ( has to be drunk outside though), whisky with honey and lemon if I have a sore throat and I will force a white wine spritzer down if there is absolutley nothing else. So I'm easily pleased really.
My favourite drink is merlot - not French, but a nice one from Australia or South Africa or New Zealand. If I didn't get headaches then I would drink it all the time but I can't have any more than 2 large glasses now and function the next day.
Back in the good old days we all started drinking when we were about 14. We would drink anything that had even a splash of alcohol in it - literally anything. Cider was the easiest to swig down as it was fizzy and almost pop like and remember this was before the invention of the alcopop. Bulmers or Woodpecker were the best and would be drunk greedily before school discos and nights out.
ID wasn't an issue then either. We didn't need older brothers or sisters to do the dirty work, we would simply go in the shop and buy it and sometimes the conversation would go like this -
''are you 18?''
to which we would reply
My friend Denise would have wild parties and there would be all sorts of classy alcohol there. Babycham, Pony, Cherry B, Don Cortez, Thunderbird etc etc and it would all be thrown down our necks and would invariably come back up a few hours later.
But we survived to tell the tale and then do it again the following weekend.
At college the whole culture revolved around drinking and my favourite tipple then was a lovely icy pint of cider and blackcurrant . My bladder knew no bounds - I could drink gallons of the stuff and when I could physically drink no more then I would shove a vodka in it for that final pre kebab on the way home kick.
Getting older means that the mystery has gone a bit from it. We can drink it whenever we want and virtually all my friends have a drink every night to wind down and relax.
I like to think I now know my limits and there is a reason for this.
I am a puker.
I overindulged in the wine a few weeks ago and spent the following day projectiley vomitting every couple of hours. It wasn't nice and my oldest daughter witnessed it and laughed long and hard.  I think she may even have tried to take a couple of photos of me in full hurl to put on Istagram but she thought better of it.
Hash Tag unfit momma.
A vodka hangover I can handle though - I have got one today. I don't feel sick and I don't have a headache. My eyes are heavy and I want to sleep but I can't. I am a grown up and I need to go to work so I have to grimace and bear it.
Incidents that stand out in my memory regarding drink related illness are the following.
I was 17 and on my second date with a fella I really liked. He was a bit older than me and he took me to the pub and asked me what I wanted to drink. I said whisky and lemonade as I thought that would taste nice. After 5 he asked me back to his house to meet his parents and within 10 minutes of making their acquaintance I ran to their loo and brought all the whisky back up . One of my earrings also went in the pan with the sheer force of my lunge and the fells retrieved it for me. I knew then it was true love.
On my 21st birthday I was at Leeds Poly and someone said that to celebrate I should have 21 drinks. No worries I managed it but I don't think I was very well for a few days later. I blamed it on the dodgy curry we had at the Islamabad Curry House on Woodhouse on the way home.
It was the first Christmas in the first house I bought and as I was working Christmas day my in laws came round on Christmas Eve night with our presents. I thought brandy and ginger would me a nice festive drink so I consumed lots of it. I went from lucid to just plain loose within a matter of minutes and the following day was spent at work when all I really wanted to do was shove my head in a bucket.
My gay best friend Simon asked me to the house he shared with his ex partner for a barbecue.  It all  got silly. I played Jenga, Simon wore leather thigh boots, I fell over in their drive and smashed my head against their car and I wasn't invited back for a while.
There have been dozens more and I am not going to rattle on as it's not grown up and it's not clever and I am now a clever grown up.

I am happy to say that because of this I now know my limits .

Am out again tonight, but will be a little more moderate.


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