In praise of drunkenness

Europe, I’m told, is entering the age of the ‘sober-curious’. Curiosity is a wonderful thing; why, then, did hearing this make me want to drink whisky until I talk in tongues and pass out? I’ve had such a long and varied relationship with alcohol since we met when I was a shy provincial child. It’s been my naughty secret (12-16), partner in crime (twenties), dangerous obsession (thirties/forties), toxic bestie (fifties) – until, somehow, now I’m almost 64, it’s ended up as casual restaurant date, always welcome but never needed. I’ve done some dumb things on alcohol, but I’ll always believe that it gave me more than it took from me. Because of this, I feel defensive of it when I hear people dissing it.

A warning has been issued by the French Vin et Société claiming that wine consumption in France is set to drop 60 per cent over the next ten years, after falling from an average of 120 litres a person a year in 1960 to 40 litres in 2020.