Sunday August 19 - The Temptometer

My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been seven months, 18 days and 10 hours since my last drink.

So, despite all my good intentions, it seems I have gone another 11 days without blogging. No new excuses, I'm afraid. As I've explained before, it seems that working 12-hour days and six-day weeks does not a prolific blogger make. All those great diarists of old (Pepys, Frank, Mole) may have produced better works of literature than me, but they didn't have to drive to Llandudno Junction and back every day to produce a newspaper with around one-third of the required staff. Lucky bastards. (Nor, in fairness, did they spend their free time mooching around on Facebook and watching Big Brother, but I'll gloss over that for now.)

But no matter how busy I get, there always seems to be time to be tempted by sweet, sweet booze. Here are a few selected highlights since my last blog, with an indication of the temptation level and preferred tipple.

Last Friday (Aug 10), 7.30pm. Driving home from work, having somehow survived the busiest six-day week of my working life.
Temptation level: 8/10.
Preferred tipple: neat whisky (too tired for lager - just want instant booze hit.)
Actual tipple: tropical fruit squash.

Last Saturday (Aug 11), 5.30pm. With Hannah, Steve and Graham in the Dispensary pub on Smithdown Road. Aston Villa v Liverpool - my first televised match of the new Premiership season.
Temptation level: 7/10.
Preferred tipple: strong lager.
Actual tipple: orange juice and soda.

Last Saturday, 7.15pm. Still with Hannah, Steve and Graham in the Dispensary. Just seen Villa beaten in final minutes due to an unfairly-awarded free kick.
Temptation level: 9/10.
Preferred tipple: champagne.
Actual tipple: more bloody orange juice and soda.

Last Saturday, 9.30pm. Eating Thai green curry in which I had put double the suggested number of green chilies, including seeds.
Temptation level: 9/10.
Preferred tipple: nothing quenches curry burn like ice-cold lager.
Actual tipple: Schloer (you may sound pissed when you say it, but it is nowhere near as much fun).

Monday (Aug 13), 1pm. Receive a telephone call in which I'm offered perhaps the most exciting opportunity of my life (excluding affairs of the heart and underpants). Temptation level: 11/10.
Preferred tipple: the finest champagne known to man.
Actual tipple: mug of cold tea.

Monday, 1.01pm. Realise that accepting this offer will create major aggro and upset people whom I admire and respect.
Temptation level: 2/0.
Preferred tipple: Settler's Tums.
Actual tipple: same mug of cold tea.

Tuesday, 7am. See hard, irrefutable evidence in kitchen of what I have suspected for some weeks now. Ie, that mouse, or mice, is living behind the cupboards.
Temptation level: 0/10. (It's only a mouse, for pity's sake, it's hardly going to drive me to drink.)

Tuesday, high noon. Decide to accept aforementioned exciting offer.
Temptation level: 5/10.
Preferred tipple: either a shot of brandy to calm nerves, or a celebratory Guinness. Not sure which, but I know there will be trouble ahead.

Wednesday, 9.22pm. Check Blues score on Teletext. Beating Sunderland 2-1, with eight minutes to go. Woo-hoo, first three points of the season.
Temptation level: 0/10. I don't need alcohol as I'm already high on the heady smell of success.

Wednesday, 9.30pm. Check Blues score on Teletext. Hapless ex-Blues striker Stern John has managed to do for Sunderland in the 90th minute what he so rarely did for us. Score. 2-2.
Temptation level: 6/10.
Preferred tipple: gin, please.
Actual tipple: nothing but my own salty tears. (Not really - Blues fans don't start crying until around mid-April.)

Thursday, 7am. Find that our humane mouse trap has worked. Instructions suggest the mouse must be released at least 1km away to prevent him finding his way back. No time for that so I release him in the field behind our house, about 50m away. He's very cute and has a distinctive limp when he runs away. We name him Ronnie and feel glad we didn't use a traditional trap.
Temptation level: 0/10. Like I said before, it's only a mouse.

Friday, 7.30pm. Driving home from work after yet another insanely busy six-day week, involving some serious upheaval and decision-making.
Temptation level: 10/10.
Preferred tipple: I reckon about six pints of Kronenberg would do it.
Actual tipple: tropical fruit squash again. Thank Kia-ora it's Friday.

Saturday, 8am. There's another bloody mouse in the humane trap. I take him out back again and set him free, noticing a distnctive limp as he bolts for freedom. Ronnie, is that you?
Temptation level: 2/10. Well, it was good to see the little fella again.
Preferred tipple: Not sure. Is there a traditional drink for welcoming the return of a beloved rodent? Sherry, perhaps.
Actual tipple: tea.

Saturday, 2pm. Regular readers will not believe this but I won at golf. Honestly. Played the 18-hole at Bowring Park with Jimmy, Gary and Graham, and beat them all. It wasn't even a fluke. I was just in The Zone. Am considering becoming a professional gofer.
Temptation level: 8/10.
Preferred tipple: champagne all round.
Actual tipple: sweet, milky tea (for the shock).

Saturday, 5.30pm. Arrive at Claire and Paul's house in Leeds for their annual summer barbecue, which this year has been rained off so we go for a meal and to a pub instead.
Temptation level: 6/10. It would always be nicer to booze at these events but it is no longer a big deal to refuse, as booze-less nights no longer hold any fear for me.
Preferred tipple: Lager.
Actual tipple: tea.

Saturday 11.30pm. Realise, after about two hours and a scary number of pound coins, that pub quiz machines do not pay out more if you are sober than if you are drunk. They just take, take, take.
Temptation level: 0/10. Trivia, it seems, is more addictive than booze.
Preferred tipple: Never mind that, just stick another quid in!
Actual tipple: Coffee and apple-and-raspberry J2O.

Sunday (today) 9am. Check humane trap but nothing inside. I miss Ronnie.