Sunday December 2 - The Taste of Victory

My name's Will and I'm a social alcoholic. It's been 11 months, one day and 20 hours since my last drink. 30 DAYS TIL B-DAY.

Thought for the day: What if I have to re-learn to love the taste of booze?

Remember what it was like when you were a kid, and you had to pretend to like the taste of beer? Yes, when you were eight or so, it was fine to screw up your face in disgust after sipping your dad's pint.

But by the time you hit double figures it was necessary to affect a certain nonchalance about alcohol. Perhaps even feign enjoyment and pass a knowledgeable comment, along the lines of "Mmmm, that's a good drop." This was difficult, because the sort of booze you have access to as a kid is not usually the best, nor is it usually served in the optimum conditions.

Skandia Green lager, for example, was unlikely to win any CAMRA awards even if it was served in a frosted goblet by a Swedish beauty queen. Necking it on the top deck of a number 37 bus, at body temperature after you stuck the can in your pocket to get it past the driver, was hardly going to improve the flavour.

But, hey, you swigged it down and - slowly - acquired the taste.

Spirits were even worse. The vapours hit the back of your throat before you'd even touched the stuff. Then came the acrid taste, the burning throat and the Mutley-style wheezing. So you learned your lesson and mixed it with Coke or orange juice until, after a few years, you start to wonder what this stuff tastes like without the masking agent. And you discover it's pretty damned good, particularly as you can now afford the good stuff.

I put a lot of work into acquiring my taste for alcohol, but what if I've lost this year?

I'm not sure I can go through it all again. I'm too old to learn.

I'll just have to inject the stuff.