Wednesday February 14 - My Thirst, My Last, My Everything

My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been one month, 13 days and 17 hours since my last drink.

Today we celebrate the feast of St. Valentine - patron saint of Clinton's Cards.
Gemma and I are planning to stay in and cook a "nice meal" tonight (has anyone ever planned to stay in and cook a shit meal?), rather than endure the public shame of going to a restaurant as a couple, and feeling pressurised to look more in love than couples seated nearby.

But whether you choose to stay in or go out, booze is pretty integral to most people's Valentine's Day. You know how it goes. Liqueur-filled chocolates, a bottle of champagne on ice, a fine wine with dinner. And, if you finish "celebrating your love" quickly, you might even have time for a couple of pints of Guinness and a bag of nuts before last orders.
I suppose some couples also need a few glasses of wine to remember just how much they love each other. Or at least to forget how much they annoy each other for long enough to get through a steak dinner without coming to blows.

We're not like that, obviously.

Gem has been extremely supportive of my tee-totalitarianism, and she even joined me in shunning alcohol for the month of January. As such, it would probably be petty to mention that she recently returned home with 23 bottles of wine, after spotting that a supermarket was selling off its quality Christmas booze for £1 a bottle. So I won't. Nor will I mention how she triumphantly lined up the bottles on the kitchen table and talked me through the merits of each one, apparently oblivious to my pained expression and the glistening stalactite of drool hanging from my bottom lip.
The bottles are now packed onto our booze shelf, with the remainder lined up on the floor beneath. Sometimes I swear I hear them laughing at me.

Despite this one instance of crass insensitivity, I hope it goes without saying that Gem is my one true love, and the only recipient of a Valentine's card sent by me this year.

I did wonder, however, if I should have sent one to my second love. Something like:

Dear Booze,

Roses are red
violets are blue
Now I'm tee-total
But God I miss you.

Love always,

W x

Better still, I should have sent the story of this very special love affair with the bottle to Simon Bates, for an "Our Tune". I think he still does them on some Godforsaken commerical station somewhere. Please add the music yourselves, and try to read it in a Bates-style honey-coated baritone. You'll enjoy it more that way...

Na na na naaaaa, na na na naaa.....

This is a story about a guy. A guy named Will. Will grew up in the West Midlands, in a little place named Solihull. Life was pretty good to Will. He had a happy childhood, yeah there were a few knocks along the way, but nothing he couldn't handle. Then, one fateful day sometime in the mid-1980s, Will met Booze. And, I guess it's fair to say, life would never be the same for either of them again.

Like so many great love affairs, this one started out with friendship. Will was allowed a shandy when he went to his gran's house, or a sip of his dad's wine with Sunday lunch. Sometimes, he would sneak a taste of whiskey from the drink's cabinet. It's fair to say it took his breath away.

Na naaaa, na na na na na na na na naaaa...

Well, with time, the friendship turned to something more. By the early 1990s, Will and Booze were seeing more of each other. A lot more. They would steal Friday nights together in the intimate surroundings of The Wharf, a back street pub in Digbeth. Yes, the carpets were so sticky you had to wipe your feet on the way out. Yes, the "lived-in" decor made the nearby Digbeth Coach Station look like the Ritz. And yes, Will had to remember to call himself "Richard Reed" (the name on his fake ID - no relation to the shoe bomber of latter years). But The Wharf had one thing going for it. It allowed Will and Booze's love to grow. It also allowed mold to grow in the toilets, but that's a different story.

Well, time passed, and the love grew stronger. Yes, Will knew that Booze saw other men. A lot of other men. He didn't mind that, because she was always there when he needed her. She was always at his side, through school, through university, she even agreed to move to Liverpool with him.

But, the course of true love never did run smooth. And one cold day in December 2006, Will got bored of Booze. So he dumped her. But only for a year.

Na na na na naaaaa

Will knows that one day, he and Booze will meet again. Perhaps he just needed a little space after 15 intensive years together. Perhaps familiarity does breed contempt. Perhaps he just thought "Sod it. It's only a year, and I know where to find her".

Either way, if Booze is listening, Will hopes you're well, and he says he hopes you can forgive him. He wants to send you a message, and he knows that everything he wants to say to you, Booze, is captured in the next song.

Here's Natalie Cole, with I Miss You Like Crazy.