Wednesday September 26 - Bored, bored, bored

My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been eight months, 25 days and 20 hours since my last drink.

I'm getting seriously pissed off with this project. I feel like I have now proven beyond any doubt that I can have a good time without drinking alcohol. I've been sober at weddings, stag dos, birthdays, leaving parties, nights in, nights out, good times, bad times. And what reward do I get for this marathon effort?

Another three months of sobriety.

Whoopee chuffing do.

Doesn't sound much if you say it fast. People have even been making noises like 'Oooh not long now'. But, actually, three months is a long time. Twelve more Friday nights without the release of a few pints. Twelve more Saturday nights sipping bloody mineral water while everyone else gets stuck into the wine. Twelve more Monday mornings without a comforting swill of vodka to get me out of bed.

It is maddening. What's more maddening is that I know I will complete the year, because I'm just a little bit anal about these things. Yes, I'll be subjecting myself to three more months of voluntary boredom simply because the phrase "one year off the booze" sounds so much more satisfatory than "nine months off the booze".

I think this gloomy patch has been prompted by the fact that non-boozing is now utterly second nature to me and those around me. Nobody, including me, really notices any more. Yesterday I went to the pub twice - first to Rigby's in the city centre to meet a mate from the Echo, then to the Coffee House in Wavertree to celebrate a serious promotion for Gary (deputy editor of the Sunday Sport, no less) - and chugged my way through five pints of non-alcoholic beverage. Two pints of lime and soda, three pints of orange juice and soda. That just can't be natural. I must be the only person in Britain who manages to fulfil the official advice on how much water to drink per day (I think it was about 18 gallons, last time I checked).

It wasn't difficult for me. It didn't spark any debate with those around me. It was just very, very unappetising.

I think the other reason I'm fed up is that I started my new job at CityTalk on Monday. The job itself seems great, and I have no complaints there. What is annoying is that for the first time in my entire career I don't have to drive to work. Indeed, I can't drive to work as I no longer have a car. The 80A bus is now my chariot. When I finish work at 5pm and emerge from the Radio City tower into the crisp autumnal evening, the pubs and bars of Liverpool are my oyster. Dr Duncans, Life, Concert Square, the Phil, the Pilgrim, the Railway, La'Gos, Alma de Cuba, the Jacaranda. Boozers, boozers everywhere yet not a drop I drink.

Like I said before, I know that booze is not essential to having a good time. But it can certainly enhance a good time. It's that enhancement of a good time - of which the immediate post-work pint is the perfect example - that I miss so much.

Oh well. Only three months to go. Not long now, as they say.