Tea Total
I don't drink. It's not a religious thing, nor a lifestyle choice. I just don't particularly like the taste of alcohol. I seem to have developed some kind of allergy to it - headaches and vomiting are the main symptoms - so it's easier to avoid it altogether.
It's not that I haven't drunk. I think it's fair to say I've persevered over the years, trying to find the right tipple. But as these forays into fermentation have resulted in more than a few memorable, and a couple not so memorable occasions, I tend to give it a miss.
One fantastic summer when I was in my teens, a group of us would spend the evenings sitting on the grass outside a local hostelry. My favourite drink at that time was Pernod and Black. Armed with a pint of cider, a pint of lager and some spare glasses, we would create Snakebite and Black with a Pernod twist, and have a jolly (and frugal) time sharing. I've always loved the taste of aniseed, but I have to say, it's far better on its way down, than on its way back up.
Early 20s and my friend and I had drunk all the gin we'd bought. With only Baileys available, we drank that too. It would appear that the two curdled in our stomachs, expanding like that foam for sealing air leaks. The result was an upset tummy and a lot of snoring.
Canada with my husband, sinking beer after beer and putting the world to rights. We zonked out the moment we got to bed, but that was after shouting "Moose" at a moose that was wandering the streets of Banff and laughing our arses off. We paid for it the following day however - taking a tour round a natural spring during a hangover is an horrendous experience: sulphur and the DTs are not happy companions.
Getting exceptionally drunk at the wedding of someone I detested and crying for hours.
Coming home in a friend's shoes and being unaware until I got undressed.
Port.
There have been some great times too. I played my part in drinking the Becks monster dry at Exeter University student union to great acclaim. Sharing a whisky listening to Irish rock music. White wine and olives overlooking Lake Garda. The champagne we drank on our way back from our wedding.
Occasionally, I will yearn for a glass of crisp, cold, dry white wine. I might do a Jilly Goolden and enjoy the aroma like a seasoned wine critic. I've sniffed a fair few wines in my time, but have yet to savour the one she described as "small animals crashing through a wet undergrowth". But I'll take a sip or two, and then stick to water.
Red wine is my nemesis however. Aside from the attractive black teeth and lips, I had a particularly bad experience with red wine a couple of years ago. The salient points of this story are the Eurostar, the onset of Norovirus, and the whiff of Merlot from my husband's glass. You try vomiting with accuracy into a train loo at 186mph.
Alcohol - some of the best times you'll never remember. Drink responsibly.
It's not that I haven't drunk. I think it's fair to say I've persevered over the years, trying to find the right tipple. But as these forays into fermentation have resulted in more than a few memorable, and a couple not so memorable occasions, I tend to give it a miss.
One fantastic summer when I was in my teens, a group of us would spend the evenings sitting on the grass outside a local hostelry. My favourite drink at that time was Pernod and Black. Armed with a pint of cider, a pint of lager and some spare glasses, we would create Snakebite and Black with a Pernod twist, and have a jolly (and frugal) time sharing. I've always loved the taste of aniseed, but I have to say, it's far better on its way down, than on its way back up.
Early 20s and my friend and I had drunk all the gin we'd bought. With only Baileys available, we drank that too. It would appear that the two curdled in our stomachs, expanding like that foam for sealing air leaks. The result was an upset tummy and a lot of snoring.
Canada with my husband, sinking beer after beer and putting the world to rights. We zonked out the moment we got to bed, but that was after shouting "Moose" at a moose that was wandering the streets of Banff and laughing our arses off. We paid for it the following day however - taking a tour round a natural spring during a hangover is an horrendous experience: sulphur and the DTs are not happy companions.
Getting exceptionally drunk at the wedding of someone I detested and crying for hours.
Coming home in a friend's shoes and being unaware until I got undressed.
Port.
There have been some great times too. I played my part in drinking the Becks monster dry at Exeter University student union to great acclaim. Sharing a whisky listening to Irish rock music. White wine and olives overlooking Lake Garda. The champagne we drank on our way back from our wedding.
Occasionally, I will yearn for a glass of crisp, cold, dry white wine. I might do a Jilly Goolden and enjoy the aroma like a seasoned wine critic. I've sniffed a fair few wines in my time, but have yet to savour the one she described as "small animals crashing through a wet undergrowth". But I'll take a sip or two, and then stick to water.
Red wine is my nemesis however. Aside from the attractive black teeth and lips, I had a particularly bad experience with red wine a couple of years ago. The salient points of this story are the Eurostar, the onset of Norovirus, and the whiff of Merlot from my husband's glass. You try vomiting with accuracy into a train loo at 186mph.
Alcohol - some of the best times you'll never remember. Drink responsibly.
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Thanks for ranting!