Britain’s relationship with booze is beyond abusive

I’m not one of these teetotallers who frowns on people who imbibe, like an angsty ex-smoker who petulantly swats away vape fumes. It would be rather hypocritical because for years, I was what you would describe as a ‘problem’ drinker. In the sense that, every time I drank it caused problems, not only for me but anyone in the vicinity.

You know those people who end up going home in an ambulance instead of a taxi? That was me. Alcohol didn’t make me unwind; it made me unravel. Having grown up with an alcoholic mother I knew I wasn’t addicted to the stuff — it was more a case of bring allergic to it. So after a solid 15 years of drunken escapades, most of which I don’t remember, I knocked it on the head.

That was about a decade ago. I don’t know exactly. I don’t count the days, unlike those who consider abstinence to be some sort of prison sentence.