My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been 11 months, 20 days and 16 hours since my last drink.
10 DAYS AND EIGHT HOURS TO GO!
Sorry to be so smug - fair comment, Chris - but it does seem that the final stretch of this project is more of a Disney cheese-fest than a gritty kitchen sink drama.
As far as I can tell, there will be no denouement in which I am found passed out and soggy-trousered at 10.45pm on the 31st.
This Christmas run-up continues to go relatively smoothly. The Liverpool Album launch was a bit of a let down, as expected (I never thought I'd actually hear myself using the phrase: "I preferred the original Atomic Kitten version.") but I braved it out on a heady mixture of soda water and pure, manly grit.
Last night could have been messy, as I went for a post-work Christmas curry with Duncan, Chris and Ali. We've been feeling pretty demob happy all week and I feared a potential lapse during that 5pm to 7pm pre-meal session in the pub. However, as 'luck' would have it, I was asked to run out on a news job at 4.30pm and didn't finish until after 7, so that particular window of festive cheer was slammed shut.
And even this morning, when the boss provided mulled wine and beer during the comms meeting (God, I love working here), I stuck to the tea.
Tonight we're having a works trip to the temporary ice rink inside St George's Hall, with yet more mulled wine a-flowing. Providing I resist that - which I'm fairly sure I will, even if it does smell so damn good - that will be my last work-related act as a sober man.
I'll next be in work on January 2nd, when I'll be free to drink whatever the hell I like.
I think I should feel elated but it just feels...weird. Oh well, I'm sure I'll get used to it. And if I feel in any way awkward or unsettled by this new-found freedom, I can just drink my way through it.
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