The journey of a thousand miles ...

... begins with a single step.

I've flirted with giving up alcohol for a long time. I've been telling myself to try and cut down ... It's a bit like going out with someone you love, someone you are besotted with and lust after, and saying that you're only going to kiss. With the best will in the world, it ain't gonna happen.

Sometimes I can have just one. Yesterday I went out for a drink with a friend and I had just one. And then I came home and I had just one. And then just one more. I told myself that three was good - for me, it's half what I normally have ...

My work life is in complete disarray at the moment. I've been terrified that there was some plot at work to get me out (I told myself it was paranoia and that drinking to stop worrying about it wouldn't make it go away) but other people agreed that it seemed that way, and backed me up and were in my corner and encouraged me to talk it through with my boss ... the boss who has reduced me to tears for over a year and made me feel like a totally useless individual instead of a highly qualified and experienced woman with 25 years experience ...

So, fuelled by the support of 2 other managers I saw my boss ... and boy, did it feel good! I have him on the run. He can be severely and I mean severely disciplined for all the things he's said to me. I don't want to punish him, I just want all the unpleasantness and trauma at work for me to stop. And now he knows that I won't put up with it any longer. I feel stronger now. It might not last, but today I feel strong.

In fact, I feel so strong that I am going to give up alcohol from 1 October. Just like that. I'm not saying I'm giving it up forever. I'm giving it up for October. The whole of October. Even if I have dinner out with friends (I have 2 in the diary already) and even if my wine club has just delivered 12 bottles of wine and even if I have 5 bottles of rum in the garage.

Tomorrow is 30 September. I can't drink tomorrow because I have a long drive to a gig and a long drive back and I don't take risks behind the wheel. Hey, tonight is my last night drinking for at least 32 days! How do I feel? Scared? No ... actually, I feel relieved.

I'm not saying that I'm going to succeed and beat all my demons in one fell swoop. I'm saying that, for October, I AM NOT GOING TO DRINK ALCOHOL.

There. I've said it. I'm going to do it.

The weekend is over ...

... and tomorrow I have work (yuk!)

But I won't think about that. Instead, I'll think about the concert on Friday night, and the evening I spent with my friend - sober. It was a good evening, my friend's always good company, and I have always enjoyed this particular band. There was something missing, though, and I don't know if I'm right in what I'm thinking: that I didn't enjoy it as much as other times because I was sober and in control and therefore didn't throw myself into it and dance and let myself go. I don't mean let myself go in a drunken way and fall all over the dance floor, I mean just a couple of drinks would have loosened me up sufficiently to let go and dance. As it was, I sang along, shuffled my feet and I smiled and told my friend I'd had a good time, but actually I felt like an outsider and, looking back, it saddens me to think that if I can't control my drinking and have to give it up for good, I won't ever feel that pleasant buzz that allows me to let go a little bit.

But at least on Saturday I was up and dressed and headache free at a reasonable hour. Jay (from the weekend before's concert/chat marathon) came over for half an hour and talked solidly, even though I'd told her I couldn't hang around because I was going to a friend's for her birthday. I did manage to get away in time and it was great to see BA again - haven't seen her for a couple of weeks - and as soon as I arrived she gestured me into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine (she was deep in conversation with a neighbour) so I went to the fridge and decided to help myself to some apple juice instead. When BA saw that, she didn't press me to have a 'proper' drink. I did have a glass of wine with my lunch out, but just the one, and then I went onto diet coke. I felt good about that, but some of the sadness is still in me - sad that I wasn't able to drown my sorrows and laugh and enjoy the moment. I suppose what I'm saying is that I drink to blot out my sadness to allow me to enjoy the nice things that are going on around me - the lack of alcohol means there's nothing to keep the depression that is a part of my make-up at bay. I mean, the Prozac should be doing that, but I've cut down the dose over the last year and it's no longer having the desired effect. Maybe I'm trying to do too much, too soon. Maybe I'm feeling low because I have to go to work tomorrow and I hate it so much, and dislike the 2 people I have to share an office with. Maybe I am just so tired of everything being such a struggle - nothing is easy in my life, and nothing is really worth the struggle I have to put into each day just to come out of it intact.

I'm going to relax in front of the new adaptation of Jane Eyre that is starting in 5 minutes on telly and try to forget just how bloody miserable I am.

This isn't how I intended this blog to be today, I intended to give myself a pat on the back for controlling my binge-drinking this weekend, but I don't feel good. I should feel good and proud about it, but I don't.

Girls' night out

I'm going to another concert tonight. I spoke to the friend I'm going with (NOT the same one as last week's concert - that would just be too much, my ears are still ringing from her 31-hour chat marathon!) on the phone and she said her husband would drop us off and collect us so that we could both have a drink. That was a very kind offer, but I said no. I said I would do the driving because I wasn't going to be drinking anyway. My friend tried to insist (she's worried about her own drinking, I know) but I was even more insistent, so I shall be driving and, as I don't take risks behind the wheel, I shall definitely not be drinking.

It is something of a relief to have made that decision early on in the day. It means I don't have to bother with thinking about things like, 'Shall I have a drink with lunch?' If I'd accepted the offer of a lift there and back from my friend's husband I'd probably have had a drink with lunch and several more in the afternoon (I've got the day off from work today) so by making the choice I did early on, I have effectively given myself a free day - free from getting tipsy and sleepy and wasting away my precious day off work.

Tomorrow is going to be difficult - a very very boozy friend's birthday - but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Today I shall just enjoy today.

Realisation is slowly dawning ...

I've spent 4 hours writing a post ... and I've just reviewed it and realised it is nothing more than self-pitying drunken rambling so I've deleted it. I have good, anonymous, friends who read these posts and reply to me privately, and I have amazingly courageous people who are not afraid to show themselves by posting ... I admire you

I am still scared, I am still holding off from that final admission ... I just can't stand up right now and say, 'My name is ***** and I'm an alcoholic. But, deep in my heart, I know I am.

A fantastic alcohol-free day!

I went to a rock concert on Friday. It was a long drive with a friend who drives me to distraction with her inane chatter. People don't believe me when I talk about this particular friend - she talks from the moment she arrives at my house, throughout the journey, and right up until the gig/play/movie starts, and then she goes silent ... until the interval ... then falls silent again for the 2nd half ... until the gig is over/the curtain comes down/the lights go up. But, because she has no other friends with the same musical/theatrical tastes as her (and because my friends with the same tastes have less holiday/more family commitments) I often end up having no alternative but to arrange things for her and me. This sounds really, really harsh but, see above: she has no other friends. I know why.

I had everything packed: sandwiches to leave in the car for when we got out (you can't take food in) and a flask of coffee (we'd need to warm up by the time we got out) and several small plastic bottles of water (you can only take plastic, sealed, bottles of up to 500ml in). I knew I could sneak in some rum and coke, mixed in a coke bottle, but I decided not to - with the thought in the back of my mind that I could always buy something when I got there if I had to. Listen to me - if I had to. I had a special picnic rug with a plastic back so even if the ground was wet, it wouldn't soak through. I ended carrying it all because Jay doesn't even think of offering to help. I feel like a bloody pack-horse most of the time!

All this background detail, as if I'm trying to make an excuse for needing a drink by the time we got there ... after my Chinese-water-torture-style 4-hour road-trip with Jay.

Outside the venue you can buy tokens that you can exchange for drinks inside - it's a good system, it means no money changes hands inside the venue, and you have to make a decision how much you are going to drink before you get in and get carried away. When I saw that you had to pay £3 for one drink I said no way! One drink would make me want at least another 5 and there was no way I wanted to/could afford to spend £18 on the equivalent of a few shots of rum.

And the concert was fantastic! I could sing along without slurring my words. I didn't need to suddenly rush out to use the ladies' loo. I could stand up on the steep slope without feeling giddy or falling over - unlike the woman behind me, who had been drinking beer all night, who fell into me 3 times without even an apology (she was too drunk to speak properly) and who probably didn't enjoy the concert because she was too far gone.

This isn't a concert review, so I won't go into detail, but when he sang some of his most poignant songs - which make me sob when I'm alone at home with the CD and the bottle - I could sing along with great joy and not get maudlin.

It took a long time to get back to our hotel after the gig - 65,000 people leaving all at the same time, more than 2 hours to get 9 miles - but, because I hadn't had a drink for over a whole day, I was fine after only 5 hours' sleep - no headache, no nausea. I got up and had a huge fried breakfast and enjoyed every mouthful. Instead of dying to get home for a longer sleep and a drink I suggested to Jay that we go to a designer outlet village on the way home, and we had a great few hours, looking at things we could only dream of buying, at prices we could perhaps afford.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip - and if I'd been drinking, I wouldn't have been able to enjoy it to the full extent that I did.

I've had a glass of wine since I came back yesterday. Not because I needed to, but because the open bottle was in the fridge and I fancied one. I'm looking back on the past couple of days and thinking how much more I enjoyed them, having made the decision to stay sober. The past couple of days has helped me think that sobriety - total sobriety - is nothing to be afraid of. I'm still not ready to go there yet, but it doesn't scare me quite as much now.

I know the coming week is going to be a challenge: work is going so badly at the moment that it takes all my resolve not to tell the Powers That Be to f**k off, and walk out. Sadly, there is only me to pay the mortgage and the bills, so I can't do that, but I have to do something. I have formulated a plan with one of the managers, but it's scarey, very scarey ... But I need to have a clear head, so before I go to bed tonight, I will decide whether I am going to commit to an alcohol-free working week. I think I want to.

Help in unexpected places

One of my problems is admitting to others that I am not perfectly strong and capable. Yesterday I did. At the end of my tether, I emailed a friend who never listens, who never asks how I am, who's idea of support is, 'Well, if it's any consolation, I've had a rotten day, too.' She may as well say, 'Shut up, we all have problems.'

Anyway, not expecting anything supportive in return but, needing to get it out of my system, I emailed this friend. What I got in return was a kind, thoughtful and supportive reply, and an offer to help me financially if I felt I really couldn't stand the job and needed to walk away.

Just knowing that someone - someone quite unexpected - cares enough to make that offer of support, and mean it, makes me feel less alone, less helpless and, although I did have a couple of drinks after my horrible day at work, I didn't need to drink myself into oblivion.

Help is there, sometimes you don't even have to ask, you just need to be honest enough to allow people see you need it ...

Always reliable

Drink is always reliable. It doesn't care if you're good or bad, it treats you the same every time. It's that reliability that makes it dangerous. When life lets you down, the bottle is always there. It can't solve your problems, but it can help you forget, or at least ignore, them for a while.

I have had a pig of a day. It appears that I must take shovel loads of shit heaped upon me and not retaliate. When I do show any personality at all I get a metaphorical slap. Today I reached the end of my tether and actually told one of my managers that I was looking for another job because I was so fed up of being treated like a school leaver with no experience. Actually, I don't know of any school leavers with no experience who are treated like that, nor any who would put up with being treated the way I am. But in my job, I have to put up and shut up. The manager was not really interested, and certainly didn't accept any responsibility for her part in it.

A friend took me out for a drink at lunch-time. I'd managed to stop crying by then. I spent all afternoon sorting out personal things, ignoring what little work they see fit to trust me with (which doesn't have to be done for 10 days) but I'm home now. Just me and a bottle that I'm trying hard to ignore. A bottle that will help me ignore, for a little while, what a shit job I have, and what shit people I work with.

I'm not even counting units tonight, just trying to bear in mind that I still have to go to work tomorrow ...

A glimpse of the future

I've just 'phoned my sister in law to find out what time we're meeting tonight to go to my niece's play. She said, 'We're picking up Uncle Tony and Aunty Wendy and we'll get there for 7.15.'

Now, if I'd known Aunty Wendy was going I might not have been so keen to go to the play and my first thought was, 'Shit, I need a drink to get through an evening with her,' but even as I thought those words, I challenged myself. Why did I need a drink to get through an evening with this particular Aunt - not a blood relative, merely married to my Dad's poor unfortunate hen-pecked brother.

The obvious reasons are that she is a mean-spirited, thoroughly nasty, opinionated, bitchy and lazy individual who has never done a day's work in her life and yet somehow cons my poor Uncle Tony into thinking that she is so busy all day.

But, being brutally honest, the reason I dislike her so much is fear: fear that I might turn into her. It's the great open secret in the family that Aunty Wendy is an alcoholic. It's an unspoken rule that no-one phones her before 10 in the morning because she has such trouble getting out of bed in the morning. No-one 'phones her between 3 - 5 in the afternoon because she's having a nap - due to the aperitifs and the lunchtime drinks. No-one 'phones her after 8pm because she's too far gone after pre-dinner, during dinner and after dinner drinks.

She's often been 'too unwell' to join family members at Christmas. She frequently cancels evening invitations at the last minute because she hasn't recovered sufficiently from the afternoon's drinking. Even now I wonder if she will be compos mentis enough to attend the play this evening. Everyone shakes their heads and shrugs and accepts the real reason for her frequent absences from family events is drink, whatever excuse she gives. The really sad thing is that no-one cares about her enough to help her, except my Uncle, and he's too scared of her to even mention that her drinking is out of hand.

I don't want to take her place and be the Aunt everyone shakes their heads about and shrugs over. I'm too aware of the dangers that lie ahead to ignore the signs. I know that cutting down to sensible levels may not be the solution for me but I have to try. If I can't cut down I will admit that I'm unable to control it, and I'll walk away from it completely.

Whatever happens, I will not become my generation's Aunty Wendy.

Miscalculation!

Freud would say that there is no such thing as an honest mistake and, I suppose, I have to agree, because while my conscious mind genuinely thought I had another 3 units to drink tonight to not go over my self-imposed limit, my subconscious must have been aware that I'd had my quota for the week by last night.

So going out for a drink at lunchtime with a good friend and 2 colleagues I hardly knew might not have been the best idea.

I had a drink - 2 units - which isn't huge in the grand scheme of things, but it took me over the limit I had set for myself (21 units) by 2! And, I know, I'm still WAY down the scale compared to what I drank last week, but I felt a failure, and thought, 'Oh well, if I've failed, this week is a write-off, I'll get a bottle of Bacardi and try again next week.'

No excuses (not even being joined in the pub by 2 male colleagues I don't really know, always scary): I didn't cross the finishing tape.

Think positive! I didn't stay under my limit BUT, on the up-side, I have drunk less than half this week than I did last week. Cutting down wasn't supposed to be easy - it was simply necessary. And I have cut down. And maybe next week I shall be able to stick to my limit of 21 units.

Off on a tangent here, but logical to me: NaNoWriMo starts on 1 November - National Novel Writing Month. As a novelist with over 20 books under her belt, bogged down by quality, wanting to let my creativity run free but always with an eye to public demand, I can appreciate the NaNo concept of quantity over quality - just getting it out of your system - and the idea that the only thing standing in the way of a wannabe novelist is a deadline. I'm applying that to the borderline alcoholic and the social drinker in me: a deadline. I'm giving myself until Christmas 2006. If I cannot bring my drinking under control by Christmas 2006, my gift to myself will be total abstinence.

There, the gauntlet has been thrown down.

Watch this space!

Just the one, Mrs Wembley!

I can't remember the name of the TV series with Joan Sims as Dennis Waterman's drunken housekeeper, but 'Just the one, Mrs Wembley?' became something of a catchphrase. She would always reply, 'Just the one, Mr ...' whoever he was, even when it was obvious she was 3 sheets to the wind.

Anyway, I did manage to stick to just the one - the last in the bottle left over from earlier in the week - and although it would have been nice to have a second, I didn't want to open another bottle.

So, I can have a glass of wine tonight OR I can have a glass tomorrow night and still be within my 21 unit limit. But I can't have a drink both nights ... This is where the problem might start ...

On track ...

I applied the 'double D' approach to my glass of wine last night - Delay and Distract. I had a bad day at work (not unusual) and the housework was stacking up at home and I'd been thinking how nice it would be to have a glass of wine when I got in. I know from experience that a glass of wine as soon as I get in leads to an empty bottle by bedtime, so instead of going straight home I popped in on my sister-in-law for half an hour and very virtuously refused a glass of wine there. When I got home I thought, 'Never mind the housework, I've had a bad day, this is me time.' So I opened up the patio doors to the back garden, sat down and put my feet up, and read my book. Usually a glass of wine accompanies book reading (and anything else I do) but I decided that I couldn't really enjoy both at once, so I just read until 8 o'clock, then I poured myself a glass of wine and watched Holby City. I really enjoyed the glass of wine, and it lasted the hour of the show. After that, I went back to my book (with another glass of wine, I must admit) and finished it - the book, that is, not the bottle!

I didn't get off to sleep very easily. I think that's one of the things I like about alcohol, the way it helps me sleep by relaxing my brain - or rather, numbing my thought processes. But anyway, despite not sleeping brilliantly I woke up on time, feeling fine (no headache!) and happy to know that I have stayed within my self-imposed limit of 21 units so far this week ... So far this week I've had 15, so I have 6 units left to go before Friday night. I don't have to drink those 6, but I know I will. I wonder if that's because I told myself at the beginning of the week that I would allow myself 21 units. Maybe, when I get used to 21 units I'll tell myself that I'll only have 14 - and see if I listen to myself!

'Only' 6 units ...

I um'd and ah'd in the supermarket on my way home from work last night - should I buy a half-bottle of vodka or rum or not? But I knew that if I bought a half-bottle I'd drink it all, and that would have been over 13 units of alcohol. I did want a drink, though, so I bought a bottle of pre-mixed vodka and cola and, as I thought, I drank the lot. I didn't enjoy it though - I'm a bit fussy about the cola I use as a mixer - and because it was a pre-mix it was 'only' 6 units.

I think it's a good thing I didn't enjoy the drink, because I'm less likely to want to have more tonight - and besides, there is no more at home, and I'm not going shopping again just to buy a bottle.

I'll report in tomorrow with the unit count for tonight!

An alcohol-free Saturday night!

Yippee!

I did it! I had a completely alcohol-free Saturday night - much to the consternation of the friends I was with. They said it was freaky and disconcerting to sit and watch me drink diet coke all evening. The problem with that was with all the caffeine in the diet coke (I have caffeine-free at home, and always drink decaff coffee, so I'm really not used to it) I didn't get to sleep until 4.30 in the morning, so I woke up feeling tired and with a headache anyway!

There were 4 of us on Saturday night. We didn't go out for a meal after all, we had a picnic in their room and kept going downstairs for bottles of wine (and more diet coke!) Between the 3 of them, they had 2 bottles of white wine and 3 bottles of red. I knew I'd get irritated with one of them in particular if I wasn't slightly 'mellow' and I did. Even when she's sober she is one of those people who never listens, who makes snap judgements and is convinced she knows best at all times. Her idea of sympathy is, 'For God's sake, pull yourself together!' which she said to one of the others who ended up in tears about her boyfriend on one of the trips back down to the bar for more wine. Had I been drinking, I might have got into an argument about it but as it was, I just said, 'That is not helpful.' She said, 'Yes it is!' and I gave her such a withering look that she did shut up after that. When someone is crying and needs some support, saying, 'For God's sake, pull yourself together!' is only going to make the other person feel sadder and more alone than ever.

On Sunday I had a glass of wine, which I really didn't enjoy, and it didn't make me want to open another bottle of wine, so I feel quite pleased with myself. I don't think I'd even have had that if the bottle hadn't needed to be finished up. There are two more bottles in the fridge (I thought that if my friend stayed for lunch we'd probably have both of them) but I'll take them out and put them in the garage, a bit further out of temptation's way.

Whether I have a drink tonight or not depends on my day at work. I hate working here and I'm trying so hard to find another job, but nothing suitable has turned up yet. If I have a reasonable day and don't have a drink tonight, it will be easier not to have one tomorrow ...

Oh dear!

I've just re-read my last post. How depressed did I sound? Very! It got worse, though. I didn't go to bed until 5.30am, and I'd finished the entire bottle of run by then. I'm lucky not to have a bad hangover - in fact, I think I'm lucky to be alive! I ended up in a chat room, offering to meet up with someone I have absolutely no intention of meeting. Strange I can type perfectly well when I'm completely hammered. If I couldn't I wouldn't get myself into so much trouble on line. Before I'd finished the bottle of rum I'd already spent £80 on ebay on something I don't really need and certainly can't afford.

I have decided not to drink at all tonight. I can't afford it, for a start, and if I have a drink while we're all out I'll want more when I get home.

I'm feeling a bit sick, a bit hollow, and very very down today. It serves me right.

Failed again!

Originally I decided I would not post when I had had a drink ... but now I think that posting when I've been drinking may actually be good for me. If I look back on 'tipsy' postings when I'm sober, I may be shamed into a) not drinking, but, more likely, b) not posting drunk.

On the way home from work tonight I went shopping and bought a bottle of spiced rum. If you look at my earlier post, I was going to have the one glass left in the bottle of wine that was in the fridge from yesterday, and maybe one rum and coke. Well, I haven't touched the wine! But I'm more than halfway through the rum ...

I went onto Google and looked up Alcoholics Anonymous Online and checked out a few of the entries. The trouble is, they are all for people who want to stop drinking ... and I don't want to stop, I just want to cut down.

I think/know I'm fooling myself when I say I can cut down. I think I've known it for the past (let me work it out ... I was in college, and a friend's mother was a counsellor. She said the definition of an alcoholic is someone who has to have a drink every day. I was at college, I had no money, I couldn't have a drink every day! But that sentiment stayed with me as I grew up, grew older, could afford to drink every day ... and did ... and began to need to ...) 20 years.

My glass isn't even half empty yet, but I'm wondering if I should go to the kitchen and top it up already ...

I went to visit a friend of mine yesterday. We used to work together, and we had some pretty frank discussions about the extent of our drinking. She left work because a) her job was crap and b) her boss was crap and c) she was busy planning her elder daughter's wedding and d) her younger daughter (aged 24) was diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of leukaemia. Obviously I have not given them the priority they had in her mind, but I wanted to show the escalation of her distress and depression.

Sitting in the last of the evening sun in her garden, she had a cup of tea and I had a glass of water. I was dying for a drink - a proper drink - and I think she was, too, but because we'd both admitted our concerns about drinking, neither of us wanted to be the first to go for the bottle of wine in the fridge. And, as she said, 'My daughter hasn't done anything wrong. She's eaten healthily, she's exercised, she doesn't smoke and she doesn't drink - and she's got leukamia. I'm going to bloody well enjoy what I eat and drink!'

I recalled that my mother was slim, fit, didn't drink and died at 53 (she did smoke a lot though) and my father died at 58. He was slim, fit, didn't drink and didn't smoke. My feeling is that I want to enjoy what I eat and drink now, because I don't see myself getting out of the other side of my 50s.

It's gone my bedtime but it's Saturday tomorrow (well, today, now). I bloody well am going to go and refresh my glass ...

... Usually at this time of night/morning, and this far down the bottle I go into chat rooms, in search of someone to fill the void. I don't even think I have a void until I find myself in rooms dedicated to transvestites, transsexuals, gay, lesbian and bisexual. As far as I am aware (and I have spent many hours and weeks and months in therapy increasing my self-awareness) I do not belong in any of those groups except for the one common thread: we are all looking for someone to love, and someone who will love us.

I think, perhaps, I'm not sure, that the reason I drink is to free the joyous inner child in me: everyone loves a child, but no-one loves me. As a child I really was loveable ... as an adult I am prickly, unhappy ... and unloveable.

Time to stop posting now. This is getting a touch too painful.

If anyone out there is reading this .. please reply. I'm feeling really alone right now.

Setting targets

It's the first of a new month, so I'm going to try and stick to the upper end of the guidelines on units of alcohol (ie 21 a week). That might sound like a cop-out, but actually it will probably halve my weekly intake. If I manage that, maybe I'll aim for a more conservative 14 units a week, but already in my mind I'm rejecting that as being not enough. I can at least contemplate aiming for 21 units a week.

I was going to go out for a drink with colleagues at lunch-time, but cancelled at the last minute. I would only have had one - either one large glass of wine or a single measure of spirits - but I'm beginning to realise it's not the amount I have that's the trigger, it's the time I start. If I wait until around 7pm for my first drink, then I physically can't have enough to make myself ill before I go to bed and sleep the units away. If I start at lunch-time, I want another as soon as I get home in the evening, which is around 5.30.

Someone gave me a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates yesterday as a late birthday present. I didn't open the chocolates (too many calories!) but I did open the wine when I got home around 8pm. I had about 2/3 of the bottle, so about 6 units and there were probably fewer calories in the wine that there would have been if I'd had the chocolate instead. Funny how I never think 'too many calories' when it comes to opening a bottle of wine! Anyway, those 6 units were part of August's units. Tonight I'll finish the bottle, which will be about 3 units. I have a very strong feeling that I'm going to go and get a bottle of Bacardi or similar on the way home from work and have some of that, too, after the wine.

Tomorrow I'm going out for a meal with a very dear friend I haven't seen since Christmas, as she lives so far away. Her partner's going to be there. He's a sh*t and makes her unhappy, and that makes me unhappy, and the only way to ignore all that tension and unpleasantness is to have a drink. Another friend is joining us and she annoys me a lot at the moment, and she'll drink too much and be stupid. I could offer to drive, that will keep my drinking down to just one glass, but I don't think I can spend the whole evening with all of them and stay completely sober, there's just too much 'stuff' going on.

If I'm definitely aiming for 21 units a week this month, that's 3 units a night - that's the large glass of wine I have left in last night's bottle, and no more! That is definitely not going to be enough for a Friday night!

This is going to be a lot harder than I thought ...