We are now a month in to me not drinking. How boring to write about a lack of alcohol? Maybe, but I’ll endeavour to make it not so, because for me it is a novelty, and even stranger still, is getting more exciting by the day.
You see, I am a man who is constantly coming up with genius ideas, wild flights of fancy such as to travel to and become ruler of the moon (1998), or save the global environment through humour (2009), or coming up with a mechanism that would let people use themselves to truly democratise the world (2014). You may have noticed that so far none of these have come to pass, and I grant you, the ideas sound slightly over reaching. However, 2014 is the year of execution!
I have gathered my best ideas in a lump (a.k.a my brain), and this year, Pinky, we’re going to take over the world!
Doing comedy, I spend most of my evenings in fermented beverage establishments, so, as drinking would happen anyway, and given that the water costs as much as the beer, who wouldn’t go for the calories. Added to that, the lucidity that one feels after starting, and I’m there. It may well be from the placebo effect, but I’ve never been one to turn my nose up at a good placebo.
But now I am trying something different. My current rule is no drinking of any alcohol upon which duty has been paid. This may seem like a weird rule to you, but it is in fact a get out clause, as I have a friend who I see roughly once a month (I’m looking forward to next week!) who brews the best beer you have ever tasted. As it is not for sale, no duty, and I get to indulge on a single night of the month. The added bonus is that the quantity that I indulge in tends to result in me not wanting to drink for a further month…
My other get out clause is half a glass of champagne at celebrations. After all, it is me we are talking about here, it would be intrinsically wrong of me to not taste the champagne. A friend of my mother’s restricts her drinking by only partaking of Guinness or champagne, a fine way of choosing what you like and sticking to it.
Amazingly though, and despite looking forward to my trip to the brewery, I don’t actually miss it. Much. On the odd occasion, a craving has seized my person with a vicelike grip and instructed me to the bar, but I won’t be bullied, even by myself. And so, I have remained unsodden.
And the ideas just keep coming. I have plans this year, I will take those plans and grow them in a pot of the finest brain compost, I will water them in the sunshine of Battersea Park, and I will nurture them in an environment of unexhausted sleep.
And by 2015, who knows, maybe I’ll be ready to drink again. Or maybe I’ll not have to, because maybe, just maybe, I’ll have taken over the world.