lundi 17 juin 2019

100 days.

I am doing 100 days of not drinking. I am only on day 8, so I don't have any profound words of wisdom, but I like to write things down.

Actually, I've been enjoying not drinking. Unexpectedly so. I can't remember the last time I went over a week without having a drink.

During this week, I have been on a date night (drank tea!), been to the pub with friends (drank ginger ale, nobody particularly noticed or cared), been away to Edinburgh for the weekend (went to an awesome Stranger Things-themed pop-up bar and asked them to make me a 'very sour' mocktail).

I took my boyfriend out for a birthday dinner and thought there might have been a mistake in calculating the bill for our incredible three-course meal... then realised dinner is pretty much half the price if you don't drink a kir royale, then a bottle of wine, then maybe a glass of dessert wine.

I might start adding up how much I am not-spending on booze, and put it in a savings account. Or at least buy myself a treat. If I include hangover food in this amount, I might soon have a small fortune.

I am excited about doing jobs around the house and cooking and maybe taking up knitting again.

I am - tentatively - thinking I might keep this up.

I'm less than a tenth of the way through... let's see how I get on.

samedi 1 juin 2019

5 years of birthdays

The year I ran a marathon, went to Hydra, got my first 'proper' book deal. My dad took me out to lunch on my birthday and told the waitress my book was being published. We drank champagne.
The last birthday I would spend with my first serious boyfriend. I wonder now how much I realised it at the time. I spent every birthday with him from 22 to 33. Things fell apart very quickly after this one.

Alone, drinking wine in an art gallery in Hastings while I waited for my then-boyfriend to finish a meeting with a French lady curator. We got fish and chips on the way home. My first book came out the next day. I was hungover and anxious, and felt I couldn't complain.

A weekday and nobody to spend it with. I went to work. I was supposed to go out to dinner with my mum, but a mix-up meant we met for a very quick drink and I was on the train back to Brighton by 7pm. Alone, drinking wine and smoking in the garden. Had a little cry.

On holiday in Spain with my nan. Sea swimming. Much gin. Tying myself in knots over a boyfriend who turned out to be the worst one I ever had. Things soon got worse, then better.

Paris. Patti Smith. A garden full of pals. The last birthday I would spend with Lily. Things were pretty good, soon to get much better.