One friend, who doesn’t drink much but also has two boys, just texted: ‘Are you drinking every day, or is it just me?’ She seemed worried. It was my absolute pleasure to reassure her that yes, I am also drinking every day, despite my feeble attempts not to. She then sent a picture of herself making a cocktail. She looked happy, because this is where we are at.
I live for these texts. The knowledge that alcohol is fuelling parents everywhere, that whatever this new normal is, drinking is a part of it for lots of people. We know (or we hope) it isn’t forever. Let’s just do whatever it takes to survive and worry about the damage we have done later. That seems like a very grown-up attitude to lockdown, if you ask me.
The thing is, as you may have already fathomed, I love drinking. I love how it tastes and what it does to me. I’ve never been addicted to it or worry that I could be. I just love it. I am an excellent drinker (these days). I mean, I’ve been doing it since I was fourteen so I guess I should be. Back in Guernsey in the nineties, we drank to get drunk and for no other reason. Nothing tasted good. We’d somehow acquire cheap wine and down it in someone’s bedroom before heading out to, hopefully, kiss some boys. The idea of it makes me feel quite ill now: the cheapest wine, drunk at lightning speed. Actually, that reminds me, we did the same with White Lightning, Diamond White and a revolting cider called ‘Brody’. I remember one time hitting up my uncle’s drinks cabinet and filling up a bottle with a little bit of everything. I drank it on the cliffs with some boys and we were all sick in front of each other. Sexy times.
Things got a bit more grown-up as time went by, and when we got into pubs and could drink legally we stepped it up. Shots upon shots were a big part of the scene. Sambuca and tequila, Blow Jobs and Slippery Nipples, whatever anyone was buying, I drank. JD and Diet Coke became a staple for me in the later part of the night. But my cousin Charlotte and I would often start with two glasses of white wine with a shot of vodka in each. Not only am I now amazed that we drank this, but I cannot quite believe we were served it. Can you imagine asking for that now and the response you would get? Anyway, Guernsey was a land apart, and growing up there was an absolute honour. Not that I can remember half of it.
I continued to be disgusting into university, where pints upon pints of lager and vodka with Red Bull became the tipples of choice – £1 a pint and £2 for a double vodka and Red Bull felt like all our Christmases came at once. Every day, for three years. My God, how am I still alive? Just thinking of Red Bull now makes me feel sick. These days, I can barely get it past my nose.
When I moved to London it all became a bit more classy. My friends and I started earning a little money, so even though the wine was still gross, and I was a sucker for a 2-for-£10 deal in my local corner shop, it was better than the 3-for-£5 we used to get in Liverpool. By the time I moved to LA when I was twenty-nine, I’d been wined and dined in some great places, and drinking disgusting wine just to get drunk wasn’t something I needed any more. I liked nice wine getting me drunk instead. The drinking scene in LA is different. There isn’t such a ‘pub culture’. Going for drinks after work isn’t a thing for a few reasons. Loads of people are freelance or out of work, or work in production, so there isn’t the office culture that demands the same nine-to-five grind. The working day is very different. Also, when I got here, before Uber, you’d have to drive everywhere, so binge-drinking in pubs was a little more complicated as taxis were unreliable and there isn’t really public transport. My life in LA has always been about dinners and wine, more than pubs. It suits me better. Nothing gives me more anxiety than drinking with a bunch of people who are not making dinner plans. I need to know I will be sitting down, with no line to the bar, and at least two courses down before 9 p.m. That is all I need from a night out. Despite my love of booze, food wins – always.
Since having kids, I’ve obviously drunk less, but at the best of times Chris and I are absolutely the kind of people who have a glass (or two) three nights of the week, and more so at the weekends. The rediscovery of tequila has been one of the best things about adulthood. For years, it came in shot form. As a teenager I drank it to the point of blackout more than I can remember. The very thought of it throughout my twenties was impossible because I’d puked so much as a result of it, I couldn’t even stomach its name. But then I moved to LA where the Mexican influence is huge. Margaritas with tacos is a common combination here. Friends who had been here for a while would drink neat tequila or have it with soda and lime. I thought this was MADNESS. How could they do that? Why would they be so CHILDISH? But then George Clooney brought out a brand of tequila, Casamigos, and my eyes were finally opened. Someone told me that if all you drink all night is tequila, fresh lime and soda, then you won’t get a hangover. Something about the glass of water and vitamin C with every shot. Never one to turn down an opportunity, I tried it. IT WORKED. I mean, I was tired, but I was not hungover. Not in the way I usually was with wine. I was sold. I have since learned that even the sniff of another form of alcohol makes your hangover even worse. It’s literally all you can have: tequila, lime, soda. DON’T mess with the system. Going for dinner and having wine, then going on to somewhere else and drinking tequila will cause self-hatred, extreme dehydration and possible regrets the next morning. (That was a good description of one of my hangovers.)
I AM NOT A ROLE MODEL AND DON’T WANT TO BE. DON’T GET MAD AT ME FOR BEING A BAD INFLUENCE, I’M NOT TRYING TO BE A GOOD ONE.
The first few months of the pandemic turned me into a raging alcoholic. Cocktails every afternoon, wine every night. Chris and I went at the whole thing with ‘summer holiday’ vibes. Knowing it was only ‘temporary’ and that we had to at least try to party through it. I was also devastated by grief, and the onslaught of childcare and global anxiety took its toll. That late-afternoon margarita became an everyday essential. It was fun, but entirely unsustainable. It was only supposed to be two weeks, wasn’t it? Then it was a month. Then it was through to the end of July. And then it was FOREVER. You know when you’re drinking too much when you drink too much and don’t have a hangover the next day. You also know you’re drinking too much when you have a crate of wine delivered on a Wednesday and wonder where it all went on the Sunday. You know you’re drinking too much when you buy four bottles of George Clooney tequila and search desperately for the fourth bottle while your husband yells, ‘YOU DRANK IT, YOU MORON’ behind you.
I am happy to say that, at the time of writing, halfway through 2020, I am back to drinking at a normal level. Maybe even better than that. I’m barely drinking at all during the week. In fact, two nights ago, because I had a small work win, we opened a bottle of white wine and I struggled through two measly glasses. Saying that though, all this talk of booze is making me crave lime, and what is lime without tequila? Here we go again …
Here’s the thing. I know I can stop if I want to, but I really don’t want to. My head is up my bum and my heart is on the ground. Alcohol has been a real highlight of lockdown because it’s taken the edge off a lot of pain. Right or wrong, that’s how it’s been. I say cheers to that.