Life's a big middle-aged cliche

Not drinking is not for wimps.

Thursday, 25th January 2018, 8:28 am
Updated Thursday, 25th January 2018, 9:30 am
who's the daddy logo

It’s only when you stop for a while you realise this country is marinaded in alcohol. Without wishing to come across as some sort of virtue-signalling muppet, the boss and I are laying off the sauce for the foreseeable future – and not because it’s Dry January and all that.

It’s just that when you’ve drank yourself sick on New Year’s Eve and throw up the next morning with such violence that you puke out of your nose, it’s probably time to think about quitting.

That and the Christmas party you went to when you have no recollection of how you made it back to your bed – and it’s only the fact the pictures were on Facebook the next day that you knew you were still there once the dancing started, the rest is a blank.

Sign up to our daily newsletter

The i newsletter cut through the noise

By the time this appears in print, it’ll be almost four weeks dry and, to be honest, it’s all a bit tricky.

In that time we’ve been to a house party, where people look at you like you’ve just stepped in dog poo and marched it through their house when you tell them actually a Coke is fine.

Then watch as your friends turn into extras from The Walking Dead as the drink takes hold and while they think their humour is edgy and groundbreaking, in reality they sound like they’ve got concussion.

Then we went out for a beautiful dinner in one of Lancaster’s lovely restaurants, where we shared a beautiful starter, enjoyed delicious main courses, sipped on cranberry juice and a £3 bottle lemonade and were back home for 8.15pm.

And since my life is one big middle-aged cliché these days, I’ve gone the whole hog and joined a gym, do three gruelling spin classes a week and pound the treadmill every Thursday and, funnily enough, I’ve lost half a stone, am sleeping like a baby and haven’t felt this alive in years.

They say you can’t outrun a bad diet but this column is giving it its best shot.

The trouble with doing loads of exercise is you’re permanently ravenous.

Nothing fills the void.

And since you’re not drinking, that gives you carte blanche to stuff your face morning, noon and night, right?