Friday January 5 - Invitation Leaves A Sour Taste

My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been four days, 18 hours and 12 minutes since my last drink.

Fate is a cruel mistress.

As a journalist based in Liverpool, my news patch covers Merseyside, Cheshire and North Wales. To be honest, it is not the world's most glamorous patch, and my usual idea of an 'overseas assignment' is covering a magistrates case on Anglesey. Hooray for Holyhead.

Very occasionally, however, I am lucky enough to go on proper junkets. I was offered one today.

"Want to go to Canada?", he said.
"Absolutely", I said.
"Got a trip to Niagara for you", he said.
"Perfect," I said.
"Leaving at the end of January," he said.
"No problem", I said.
"Visit the falls", he said.
"Sounds cool", I said.
"Stay in some luxury accommodation", he said.
"I can live with that", I said.
"But it's mainly about the Niagara Wine Festival," he said.
"Oh bollocks", I said.

Abstaining from booze while on foreign trips is one thing, but agreeing to cover a wine festival then refusing to drink any would be professionally unsound, as I would be unable to give an accurate report. See, we do have morals. I had to say no. No doubt the trip has already been passed to one of my colleagues, who will be packing a thermal vest and a straw this very minute. Bah.

The draw of Friday night boozing is strong tonight, but nowhere near as bad as I had feared. My wife, Gemma, has decided to give up alcohol for January, so I will not be tortured by the delicious sound of cork-popping and wine-glug-glug-glugging at home for the next four weeks. As for my drinking cronies, they are either too skint after Christmas or have decided to abandon me already, as my phone remains suspiciously silent.

Think I'll go and find out.