diary of a (hard) liver

Here’s an intriguing article from the Times of London, the alcohol diary of a columnist who thought:

Oh hey, I’m getting on, maybe I should start cutting down, just in case, you know.

Then he found out how much he really had been drinking, day in and day out.

Not a pretty picture:

I had a lot of difficulty getting to sleep on Tuesday and Wednesday. I was too hot, sweaty and restless and, while I was lying there fantasizing about ice-cold pints of lager, I realized I hadn’t had a day off the drink for more than three years.

Can you say “wakeup call” boys and girls? I knew you could.

Read the whole piece, complete with doctor’s remarks on each week’s progress, and think about the slowly-dawning comprehension there. This is not a stupid man. This is not an alcoholic. But this is a man who’d slipped into a pattern of abuse without realizing it to be anything other than normal.

The diary principle, as you know, is one we value highly around these parts. If you start to write it down and you stop yourself and say, no, that can’t be right, then maybe that is exactly what you need to be writing down.

Also, his beverage costs went down by 80%!

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