Dry January?

I know, I was momentarily impressed too. I just thought that I would write that to get your attention. It was all over the news, everyone was talking about it…. it’s something that’s a great way to start the new year for some. Or is it? Not me. The only people who probably benefit most are the bin men. They don’t have the same amount of heavy lifting of recycling bins. It’s an easy 3 weeks for them. Week one will be a strain after the new year indulging.

I for one, always think that having a dry January doesn’t work for me. We have our staff party in January – it’s the quietest month and to be honest, had I stopped drinking on the 1st of January, I wouldn’t have been able to go to the staff night out. How could I? Not drink? This lovely bunch of folk that come along for an evening of eating and responsible drinking help us keep the cogs of The Green Welly turning. I couldn’t NOT drink. After all, I need to celebrate the fact that the really ‘testing’ members of staff that drove me to drink in the first place were not there.

Following the eating (very nice, thank you) and the drinking (not very responsibly) we then have a disco. Yep. A disco. The kind with flashing lights, strobes and a cracking DJ, Ewen Duncan from Europa Music in Stirling. Without fail he hits the nail on the head with the music. My hips are still aching slightly from an evening of sweating it out on the dance floor. The hotel we were at for the evening had the heaters on in the function room. What was all that about? I suppose it made us drink more. Needless to say the 80’s music got the biggest crowd on the floor. Judging by the hangovers and the requirement to lie in a darkened room the next day, indicated it was a success. Well done to those in the team that had to struggle through work the next day.

Jessica

So, that’s my main reason for not doing a ‘dry January’. If I was in the middle of a dry January, I’d have to behave at the staff party. That’s just not on. So, all the new year resolutions that we pretend to commit to in the new year would be blown out the water. Then there’s our trip to Austria. My Mum has been going to the same family run hotel forever. Well, not quite forever, but it sure feels like it. 45 years. The Loisach Sport Hotel in Lermoos is just magic. Now my Mum is 74, she’s hung up her ski boots and just enjoys going with her pals. This year joining Lellypops was June, Lizzie, Jessica, Blair, Ellen, Jann and myself. Ellen and I have the perfect room for the bar – a table we can all sit round for a pre-dinner drink and a balcony to keep the gin, tonic and Prosecco cool. The bar opens at 6pm. There was also a never ending supply of crisps. The housekeepers must have spent a great deal of time hoovering up the crunchy carpet. Nice. The rest of the time was undoubtedly spent emptying the bin of bottles. The hotel team must brace themselves for the Scottish Ladies (and Blair) visiting annually. The things that are guaranteed though is we have a great laugh and a huge bar bill at the end of the week. Burns night generally falls when we are there and we do tend to get up to a bit of mischief! This year included having a sing-a-thon in the bar with the Irish girls. The best discovery of the holiday was by Jess; Presecco mixed with Lemoncello. Ouchya.

Scotland and Ireland

Lizzie ‘n’ me

It’s all great fun. Jess and Blair skied and Ellen and Lizzie did some langlauf skiing and a lot of walking. Poor El was suffering before she came out on holiday with pleurisy, and the poor soul relapsed and had to go to the pharmacy for some quality drugs. Legal of course. A lot of the holiday was spent swapping ibuprofen and paracetamol depending on the aches and head pains! So much so, when I was at the staff party, I had to go to Ellen’s room for some emergency-just-in-case painkillers that I just knew I was going to need….. My supply was gone. Wonder why that was? Another reason for a non-dry-January!

Someone’s 70

For my week I walked across to Erwald most days and went for a swim in the 25m pool there. I love swimming and over the week I worked up the number of lengths each day from 26 lengths to managing swimming a kilometre on the last day. After that, I would walk back to Lermoos which was a round trip walk of 6k. I thoroughly enjoyed it, mostly. The last day I did it, I really couldn’t be arsed. I knew I had to, I had to work off some of the lovely food we had been eating, the biggest sin, other than alcohol was chips. I don’t get chips that often to be fair! What a good girl. Don’t get me wrong, I did have a couple of days where I just chilled and devoured a couple of good books (no calories in them). The picture on the left was Mum and June looking out on the hill where torches were lighting up a ’70’, for a local’s birthday. Nice.

So, I’m not promising a dry February. A lot of the Lermoos gang were talking about it. Mum joined in the chat, however, I know for sure she won’t do a dry February. I didn’t discuss it, not wanting to set myself up to fail. I certainly didn’t discuss it with Ed. I certainly don’t stand on the scales either for a few weeks… what’s the point in that? I had a lovely time. The last thing I want to do is be fecking depressed! I’ll stand on the scales when I’m good and ready, thanks.

Ed: he’s away on his world tour of Britain for a week, which starts with going to the Dangermouse Rally armed with tents. Go for it lads. Really. February and camping? Mind you, thinking about camping at any time of year makes me shudder. So, you can imagine my delight when I saw he had left me a note on the breakfast bar, which welcomed me home after a productive day at work.

It was along the lines of, “Please try not to go to the drawer for the tobacco and I’m sure the running machine would like to see you.” Now, let’s get one thing clear here, I was off the cigs until Ed’s Mum’s funeral when Ed had started again – don’t blame him, really. I find it fairly easy to stop, however, not for a minute am I going to stop when I get a message like that. Also, yes, we have a running machine, which to be fair I couldn’t run on. My knees are not great – well, truthfully, my right, re-constructed knee is ace, my left knee is held together with sticky-back-plastic and not a lot else. I slipped on ice on holiday and had I had an anterior cruciate ligament in existence, it would have ripped. I heard the familiar pop of my knee. So, quite frankly, I’d find it challenging running for a bus. Walking for wine though seems very feasible.

I digress. So finding the highly motivational, inspirational note from Ed, I had a case of the fuckits. I rolled a cigarette from the tobacco in the drawer, I lit it and patted the running machine on my way to the wine fridge in the garage. There. That’s blown any chance of a dry February. Fell at the first hurdle. I sent Ed a text to this effect. Thankfully, probably fuelled with cider (and perhaps tobacco), he and his mad, camping, motorcycling buddies found it hilarious. It was all true.

Garfield