On The Dry

 At the end of this month I will have been off the grog for six months. At the start of the year my health problems were added to by trouble with balance and a series of falls, five between January and the end of April. After the first signs of this difficulty, back in January, I decided that carrying on with even moderate drinking was simply throwing petrol on a bonfire. I was a lover of real ale and am still [handy for Christmas gifts] a member of The Wine Society but I doubt if, in what time I have left, I'll return to the real enjoyment I derived from beer and wine and, indeed, single malt whisky [Islay for preference.] I have tried many 0% alcohol drinks, including gin and Guinness, and found them enjoyable but use them only on rare visits to a pub. The renunciation of what had been one of the major pleasures of life has not been as demanding as I had anticipated: I have never felt desperate for a dram or a pint, thank God. 'Has it made any difference?' I was asked by a doctor in the Falls Clinic. 'Not really, still having dizzy moments,' I replied. 'Well, you might enjoy a pint now and then,' was his suggestion. For some reason [centuries of Calvinist ancestors glowering down at me, perhaps] I have not taken him up on that suggestion. Memorable moments in my bibulous history remain to be savoured, though, including this splendid farewell dinner for a colleague nearly thirty years ago.