Sober Girl

For the first few weeks of Year of Living Healthily (DAY SIXTY TWO! DAY SIXTY TWO!) I didn't do very much at all. Just Living Healthily was quite taking it out of me. Then I tried going to the pub a few times.

The first time I felt drunk and smoky even though I didn't drink or smoke, and I was late meeting Miles just as if I *had* been drunk. The second time I got bored straight away and couldn't get home fast enough. The third time I really enjoyed myself and had the pleasure of driving home afterwards rather than hanging around waiting for a late night bus. People are curious at lack of alcohol in one who is often found ordering a pint and a whisky at last orders, and it makes for a good conversation. So far, so good.

But then I live in soft Oxford, where much quiche is eaten, some of it vegan.

This weekend I went back Up North for the first time since Christmas. It was a bit different.

First off was a drink with my sister. What do you want, she said. A Kaliber please, I said. A what? she said. And she *works* in a pub. The person behind the bar had exactly the same reaction. Once we'd located them in the bottom corner of the fridge we were ok though.

Next was my lovely friend Mick. A Kaliber please, I said. I'm not fucking buying one of them, he said.

Then I went to a party. First up was a wine tasting. The only other sober person there was doing the spit-it-out thing, but I decided not even to do that, it would just be too tempting. So I sat in the corner with my Sugar Free Red Bull as the person next to me waved his glass at me, shouted "Get Pissed Sober Girl!" and gave me a Chinese burn. Luckily he drank for both of us and went to bed at half past nine, although he did, to give him credit, win the wine tasting (jointly with his girlfriend who was the best possible person to have at a party, whatever state you are in).

After that, I did enjoy myself thoroughly for several hours, went for long stretches without feeling like a freak, even danced a bit, feeling crushingly self conscious but reasoning that absolutely nobody else would notice (other sober person had long gone by this point) and the music was at that point too good to waste. I also did useful sober person things like collecting empties and wiping up the Triple Sec before anyone slipped in it.

By the time I went to bed (two o'clock, not bad I thought) I was the best sober person anyone had ever met, and they were all lovely too. I sensibly brushed my teeth, took my makeup off, read my book for a bit and went off to sleep (after one failed attempt when someone burst in, shouted GET UP! and left again) listening to grown adults throw themselves around downstairs to Fraggle Rock.

Boy did I feel pleased with myself the next morning.

But having said that, if there were no pissed people, there would be no parties, or at least, not anything like as good as that one was. So we can't all be sober, some of us need to be pissed. It's a dilemma, that's for sure.

joella