No sherry and mince pie for me this Christmas, I’m staying sober - Vladimir McTavish
I’ve decided I am going to have a sober Christmas this year. We’re less that a week in at the moment, so it’s difficult to tell how this experiment could play out. However, I am already fearful that I could be making a huge mistake.
December is potentially a very difficult month to stay off the demon drink. Booze seems to be everywhere. At parties, in adverts, quite frequently passed around in the workplace and at bus stops and taxi ranks.
And, despite laws preventing it, consumed in copious amounts on trains after 9pm. Quite simply, drunk people are everywhere at this time of year.
Please don’t get me wrong. I like drunk people. I would even go as far as saying I am very fond of drunk people. I am quite frequently a drunk person myself, which is when I find it easiest to tolerate other folks being plastered.
When I’m sober, my patience with the wasted can be sorely limited. So why am I deciding to be teetotal for the four weeks when most of the rest of society is permanently blootered? Quite simply, it’s a challenge.
I have had several alcohol-free months in the past. I have done Dry January a couple of times.
The first time it was the idea of an ex-friend who claimed it would help me think more clearly. And he wasn’t wrong. After ten days, my thoughts were very lucid. I remember thinking “Clearly, this a daft idea, I won’t do this again”. But I did.
The second time, I signed up to do it for charity and so I had no way out once I’d set up my JustGiving page and saw the donations rolling in.
Although, part of me was thinking how much booze I could have bought for the same amount of money.
But, to be honest, Dry January can be torture. Of all the months of the year, and in all the countries in the world, Scotland in January is not the time and place to stay sober.
It’s 31 days of morosely looking out of the window at the grim dark nights and counting down the days to February.
One year, I took part in Sober October, which was OK up until the stroke of midnight on Hallowe’en when I fell off the wagon in spectacular style.
The next thirty days are best described as I Can’t Remember November.
Quite frequently, in the run-up to the Fringe, I have had a booze-free July. Indeed, for a couple of years in a row I did a total detox, giving up caffeine and dairy as well as alcohol for the entire month of June.
In summer 2026, neither of those will be be an acceptable option, with Scotland in World Cup action. Whether celebrating or drowning my sorrows, I won’t get through the tournament without a drink.
I will keep you posted on how this month works out. On a positive note, I’m hangover-free. And it’s only 25 sleeps until Hogmanay, and the welcome sound of the bells.
In the meantime, season’s greetings and festive cheer to all you happy revellers on this first weekend of advent.
However, in a few weeks’ time, I fear this sentiment may well have changed to “Bah! Humbug!”