If you had told me a year ago that for the first month of 2021, I would voluntarily be participating in Dry January I would’ve unequivocally replied (politely) with a “Fuck that!”

But here I am and, as February looms miserably on the horizon, I wait to greet it – completely sober.

“God, why?”, I hear you ask.

“As if this year hadn’t already started off bad enough – and now you wrench away the hand of your oldest friend and the reliable blissful anaesthesia of alcohol too?”

Perhaps I am a fool. Maybe you’re a couple of pints in yourself and drunkenly browsing the Varsity website, “What a loser!” you slur, taking another deep intoxicating glug. True.

Or perhaps, Dear Reader, you’re simply screaming at your computer/tablet/phone screen in blatant outrage: “The world’s already bad enough without a smug know-it-all telling me how they kicked alcohol for a month!” Again, true.

Or maybe you’re someone who knows me, has taken one look at the title and declared triumphantly to your partner/ family member/ household pet: “I always knew she’d end up recovering from alcoholism.” Once more, true.

Just kidding.

So, why then?

It wasn’t for health reasons that I gave up booze, I have my daily lockdown walks where I stomp angrily through the woods alone, cry about the state of the world and listen to the Hamilton soundtrack just to feel something. That’s enough healthy living for me.

And anyway, I don’t care that much about health. I hate salad and I love ice-cream and, as I was blessed with a fast metabolism, I might as well make the most of it while I still can!

So then, why did I do it? I stuck with it simply to see if I could. I love a crisp glass of Sauvignon, you see. A cold cider on a hot summer’s day, a sweet mulled wine to warm the chilly winter nights, a cheeky Mojito if I’m “out with the girls”, a “get-it-down-ya” of whatever’s on the table if I’m out with the boys. “Top my glass up, Grandma!” I fondly declare at family gatherings. “Yo-ho-ho and a barrel of rum”, “I’ll have what he’s having” and “Drinks on me!”

Sloe gin, tawny Port, peach Bellini’s, Aperol Spritz, whiskey sour, sake, Sangria, Pimm’s, eggnog, Ouzo (actually, hold that last one) – cheers!

“Honestly, if I could have Baileys in my coffee every morning, I would.”

It’s beauty, it’s confidence, it’s majestic and it is: British Culture. God save the Queen and hand me a pint.

Honestly, if I could have Baileys in my coffee every morning, I would. Slightly boozy cappuccino on the way to the library? Don’t mind if I do. It will definitely spice up my 9am lecture on “Forgotten Literature in the Renaissance Period” anyhow. Bottoms up!

Alcohol, it’s magnificent – until … it’s not.

We all, I’m sure, remember that “one-drink-too-far”, when the bartender decides it’s time to get a little over-friendly. That fatal sip that gives you unbridled confidence: “Girls, I’ve decided – I’m going to call him!” That first time you overdo it: you’re 17, at a house party, the WKD blues were a little too much for you and, all of a sudden, your friend is holding back your side ponytail as you chuck up in Dylan-from-the-year-above’s mum’s favourite flower vase.

We’ve all been there.

In fact, when you think about it, the UK has a weird relationship with alcohol. It’s celebratory. It’s social. It’s traditional. But, unfortunately, sometimes it’s a step too far.

In the words of my American roommate: “You Brits sure do drink a lot!”

So, how did it go?

Apart from *really wanting a glass of wine* several times – fine. I realised, the social aspect of Cambridge withstanding, I really didn’t want to drink that much at all, especially not in term time. For me, drinking is something social, something to be shared. I miss pubs desperately, but not, I realise, for the booze – you can get as drunk as you want at home, there’s no one to stop you. No, the magic of pubs is the people you’re there with – the socialising, the slightly drunken anecdotes, watching your friend make eyes at the girl across the room who’s definitely out of his league. The good times.

What did I learn?

Firstly, it saved me money, but I soon spent that on other ways to “treat myself” (curse you lockdown online shopping!)

But also that, while I like booze a lot, at the end of the day I don’t need it. Which is a good thing really. And that anything, when taken in moderation, becomes exciting, a novelty, a treat! Like Christmas Day when you’re a child, if we all got presents and had a stocking to unwrap every day it would become usual – it is the novelty that truly makes something special.

That said, I can’t wait for February the first to roll around. Yes, everything’s good in moderation, but I’m counting down the seconds. You see, I’m gagging for a glass of wine.