When I was in my twenties I tried very hard to drink wine but it always made me sick which was a shame because it’s such a sociable thing to do. When I met Mr A he declared that it was because I’d only ever tried cheap plonk. Being a bit of a wine connoisseur (a posh way of saying he liked an occasional glass) he lavished upon me the most expensive of wines. Still I was sick. So I’m making an admission to you all now. I’m standing up as I type this and I’m saying loudly and seriously,
“My name is Rosalind Adam and I am a teetotaler.”
There I’ve said it. I can hear you all gasping and yes it does mean that:
- I’m always the designated driver home.
- I never ‘get’ the jokes that are bandied about in the latter part of a sociable evening.
- And there are only so many glasses of juice that any one person can drink in an evening.
- I never get a thick head the morning after.
- And Mr A hardly drinks at all now which is just as well in view of his kidney problems following his stem cell transplant. Had I been fond of a glass or two we could well be downing a bottle a night by now.
Last night, surrounded by my friends, I toasted the New Year with a glass of lemonade while they sipped at Champagne. We had a lovely evening and I drove home afterwards. Today I shared a delicious lunch with friends and washed it down with their infamous and highly non-alcoholic ‘red juice’. We had a lovely day and I drove home afterwards.
I don’t need alcohol to have a good time and I’m now raising a cup of tea in a toast to the New Year. May the rest of it be every bit as good as the first 24 hours have been.