Booze

 

 ”It’s the sugar,” said my friend Martha reaching into the freezer for a bottle of vodka.

“It’s the sugar in the wine that gives you the hangover.”

We are standing in her kitchen a few evenings after we both attended a very raucous affair where I, it appears, drank too much because I couldn’t function properly for a few days after.  I’m not talking about getting drunk here as there is nothing so deeply unattractive as a drunk woman, I’m just talking about having a good time and drinking a tad more than the daily recommended allowance dictated to us by the nanny state.

“How much did you drink?” she asked kindly almost masking the incredulity in her voice. 

Martha is tall and blonde and savvy .  She worked out long ago that wine gives her headaches and makes her feel lousy but spirits, in particular vodka, are her friend and can be drunk with little side effects. 

“Around three glasses of wine with the dinner.” (I didn’t like to mention the glass of champagne prior to the red wine as well, it sort of slipped my memory standing as I was next to this alpha woman).

“Did you have a headache?”  She continued

“No, just that yucky liverish feeling and no energy for two days!”

A horrified look flitters over her face.  “Were you hungry the next day?”

“Yes, famished.”

“Sugar does that,” she said shaking her head wisely.  ”Sugar and Alcohol don’t mix! The only remedy being a hot night on the dance floor. Burn baby burn!!!!”  She intoned clinking ice into her drink.

I like to drink.  I like a glass of red wine at night, even if I’m all alone.   And I like to drink when I go out socially. In other words I don’t want to give it up.  It is one of my few vices along with watching Oprah.  But alas, excessively bad-tempered and humourless in the days following a night out, are not doing much for my reputation and obviously my liver just ain’t what it used to be. 

But here’s the thing.  One:  Brits don’t abstain, it is our/my social oil.  Two: Some occasions, it has to be said, need a little buzz going just to get through them.  Ever been to a nightclub sober?  Christmas without a drink?  It is a depressing thought.

What I really need is a spare body part.  I need a new liver to strap on every time I’m out having fun, a sort of medical bum bag, a cute little Geisha Girl’s hump which can be thrown away – along with the hangover – once home.  In the meantime whilst I wait for medical science to catch up,  if you see a middle-aged woman flinging herself around a dance floor at a party don’t worry, you know it’s only me, burning baby burning!!!