In October 2020, I sat down opposite my laptop screen to talk to my DoS. Her first question, about the work I hadn’t completed over summer, for obvious reasons, threw me entirely. While stammering for excuses, I reached for what I thought was a glass of water to my left. It was not. In front of my strict Russian teacher, I picked up – and chugged – a large glass of wine, all without realising what I’d just done. To her credit, she was more baffled than bothered, but it left me thinking about just how normalised a habit wine had become for me over the long summer months

“Now, I split my weeks into times to drink wine, and times when I need a little more caffeine-fuelled productivity.”

I first began drinking wine at house parties – yes, I was that girl who brought (and drank) a full bottle each time. After going to uni and then being plunged into a year of lockdowns, I’ve developed more of an intricate relationship with it. My weekends can be neatly summarised thus: my Friday trip to discover what type of wine I’ll be drinking that evening, the disappointment at the cheapest ones being out of stock (I’m looking at you, Phantom River) and the large glass I use to relax and forget about everything that happened that week.

 Before you start to get worried, it’s not just wine that has a definitive position in my life. I always used to joke that I only drink coffee, wine and water. Now, I split my weeks into times to drink wine, and times when I need a little more caffeine-fuelled productivity. My coffee obsession began quite a long time ago, something which most can probably relate to, when I was an insomniac teenager trying to cover up my absence of attention with an overdose of caffeine. I frequently drank four or five black coffees a day, and then complained about being jittery for hours. Since then, I’ve cut back on the caffeine a little, to safer levels, but coffee is still an integral part of my daily life.

In the same way that my evenings are made up of wine, it wouldn’t be the morning without me making a large mug of coffee. I’m even convinced that the smell wakes me up more than the taste does. While it might make it harder for me to sleep at night, without coffee, I honestly believe I would sleep through the day.

“By designating the weekend as a time when I can drink wine...I can get work done and still get a bit messy on a Saturday night.”

None of this should come across as pretentious: my obsessions with coffee and wine aren’t about spending lots of money, making fancy drinks, or baffling people with an intricate knowledge of French vineyards. I usually can’t tell the difference between different grapes (did you read about my disappointment over Phantom River being out of stock?). My coffee is instant, and wholly without syrups, foams, or any of the rest of that Starbucks crap. Not to say that my way to drink it is the best, but I just don’t see the point in putting all that effort into something that tastes better as it is.

Amid a global pandemic, coffee and wine have become much more than just symptoms of a normal day. They help to break up the days into times for working, and times for relaxation. Without them, I’ve found that whole weeks dissolve into a large blob of meaninglessness. By designating the weekend as a time when I can drink wine, and leaving the week for drinking coffee, I can actually get some work done and still get a bit messy on a Saturday night.

The secret to a somewhat enjoyable lockdown is routine, but I can’t say that schedules and plans are really my thing. As silly as it sounds, a simple routine dependent on coffee and wine working in tandem has been the only way I can feel like I still have control. Until we take that step onto firmer, more precedented ground, I’m championing – even recommending – a life of little luxuries to get through this lockdown. Whether it’s coffee, wine, or any other drink that takes your fancy, I encourage you to have that glass without fear of judgement. I think we’ve earned it.