Sober Long Haul

After a year off the booze, I'm finding that doing most things sober has become the 'new normal.'

But then, every now and again, you do something for the first time, and it's hard.

Yesterday was my first sober long haul flight, and in my mind, flying is totally connected to booze.

Firstly, there's the excitement of going away somewhere, or the misery of returning to reality - both of which really necessitate a drink.

Secondly, there's that whole 1950s PanAm glamour thing.

Even though flying has become more and more painful, what with all the sticking cosmetics in see through bags (why? Can you really bring down a plane with a mascara? And, if so, why does being able to see it make it less deadly?) and taking off belts and shoes, it still has that halo of sophistication, which goes nicely with a glass of bubbly.

And thirdly, however much you sort of get the whole science of lift and drag, and differential air speed over the curved wings, it still seems counter-intuitive that such a massive hunk of metal is going to stay in the sky.

Plus there's always that fear that your baggage is on an entirely different aeroplane, or that forty five minutes really isn't long enough for you to make your connecting flight.

A drink helps take the edge off that knot of anxiety.

So, I found not drinking on the flight really hard, and was acutely aware of the 'snap' of the lids of all those little miniature bottles of vino going off around me.

And you know what? Long haul flights feel really long when you're sober.

Everyone else had a drink after take off, and wine with lunch, then happily snoozed for a good long stretch. I, meanwhile, was wide awake for ten hours! It's almost impossible to doze in an economy seat without the anaesthetic of alcohol.

So I was a bit cross.

Then I reminded myself that for the last few years I'd found long haul flights really rather difficult.

I was convinced that BA had had an efficiency drive, and reduced the amount of wine they served on flights (I still have no idea if this was really the case, or if it was just me that had changed). Two of those teeny weeny bottles of wine were nowhere near enough on a long journey!

I used to get really edgy waiting for the interminably slow progress of the trolley down the aisle, and then, when I'd finally got my hands on, and finished, my allowance, I'd wrestle for hours with the dilemma of whether it was worth the embarrassment of asking the hassled stewardess for more...

It wasn't relaxing, or glamorous, or exciting any more. It was stressful!

So yesterday, although I was slightly annoyed, was so much easier. And I didn't arrive with that terrible dehydrated, groggy feeling. I bounced off the plane, all bright eyed and bushy tailed (in as much as that's possible at the age of forty seven).

And I know that the return flight will be that much easier. And eventually, sober long haul will feel entirely natural.

After all, it wasn't so long ago that I couldn't imagine a long haul flight without chain smoking! And doesn't that image belong in a whole different era?

(Didn't you meet the most interesting people in the smoking section of planes? Yet another corroboration of my theory that addicts are the best).

Now, here I am, sitting on my terrace, sipping green tea, watching the sun set over a turquoise Caribbean sea, and listening to the faint thwock of croquet mallets connecting with wooden balls on the perfectly manicured lawn below.

Thank you, thank you for all your comments on my last post! If the whole plan comes off it will be as much down to all of you as it is me.

You're awesome. In fact, everything is pretty awesome.

Love SM x

Day 29 - Sober in Switzerland!

I've really missed being able to post every day - this blog, and all of you - have been like my own personal AA sessions.  I'm writing this with one finger on an iPhone, so it'll probably by short and riddled with spelling errors - apologies!

So, here's the update: after a gruelling 16 hour drive with #1, #2 and #3 only pausing from the sibling bickering to consume unhealthy snacks thrown at them in desperation by their parents, we finally arrived in stunning Switzerland.

Needless to say, by this stage I would have given my right arm for a glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc. In order to stop myself drinking I went into a mad frenzy of cleaning. I was like a whirling dervish with OCD, running around the apartment with a wet cloth and spray detergent. The husband and children thought I'd completely lost it. Has anyone else found that their house has become infinitely cleaner since quitting drinking?

Since the night of the crazy cleaning there have been a number of other white knuckle moments. They are generally linked to 'firsts'. The first lunch up the mountain without a cold beer, the first cheese fondue without red wine to go with it, the first hair raising icy off piste mogul run (mainly done on my arse) without a congratulatory restorative drink at the end. All the outdoors and exercise have - as I'd hoped - stopped me constantly obsessing, but it means that when the cravings do hit I'm not as prepared for them. I'm blindsided.

In Jason Vale's book (kick the drink - easily), he constantly reminds us that children don't need alcohol to have fun and a huge lust for life. I never found that analogy terribly helpful - I'm far too removed in too many ways from my child self. What has been really helpful, though, is remembering one of my best ever holidays....

When I was nineteen I took off for 3 months around South East Asia armed with a rucksack, a copy of South East Asia on a Shoestring and some scrawled notes from my friend Philippa who'd just returned from a similar adventure. I fell in love - with the landscapes, the culture and a rugged, blonde Texan called Buck.

Buck had a tattoo on the sole of his foot reading 'the Buck stops here' in Thai. At least, that's what he asked the tattoo artist to write. It probably translated as 'gullible American asshole'.  I was at the age where you feel everything so intensely - love, anticipation, fear, joy - it was a magical time.

But you know the weird thing? I have hundreds of vivid technicolor memories of that trip and in NONE of them am I clutching a glass of alcohol. Usually I'm holding an old fashioned curvy glass bottle of Coca-Cola. My backpacker budget didn't stretch to imported wine. From time to time I'd drink a Singha beer, but I wasn't bothered about it.

I drank virtually nothing for 3 months and it was one of the best times of my life. And perhaps part of the reason it was so vivid and intense wasn't just my age. Perhaps it was because I hadn't blunted all the edges with booze.

So every time a craving hits I picture my nineteen year old self - skinny, gorgeous (although I didn't know it then, obviously) and sober, looking over the Padi fields listening to Frankie Goes to Holllywood on my Sony Walkman, filled with wonder at the world, and I think "that's how I was before you invaded my space, wily wine witch, and that's how I can be again."

I hope you're all doing okay!

Much love from the land of melted cheese, cuckoo clocks and 'discreet' bankers,

SM xx

Day 25 - Packing Up

Today is Packing Day. At 4am tomorrow Family SoberMummy depart for our annual ski holiday in the Swiss Alps. It sounds flashy, but since I gave up the lucrative career after #3's arrival we have done ski-ing 'on the cheap'.

Our ski holiday involves driving for 16 hours - through the channel tunnel, across the breadth of France and over a mountain range into Switzerland. It is always nerve wracking as we can never guarantee that the old banger is going to make it.

One year we broke down in France at lunch time (which the French take very seriously). We had to wait for hours until one of the local mechanics had finished his dejeuner before we could be towed away and repaired. Another year our licence plate fell off. We only realised when we tried to cross the border and were yelled at by the border police. Luckily, I have spent years doing arts and crafts with children and was able to make a temporary one out of cardboard and sticky backed plastic (thank you Blue Peter!). Plus, at least twice we've been caught in blizzards while crossing the mountains.

We stop at the last Hypermarche in France to buy all our food and drink as it's way cheaper than in the ski resorts, but after ten hours or so driving, the last thing you want to do is to drag 3 children round a supermarket! The final leg of the journey involves trying to fit snow chains on all the tyres in the dark (and often in a white out), to get up the final mountain to our (self-catering) apartment.

But then we wake up on Saturday morning and there will be icicles hanging from all the windows, and we'll look out onto the snowy alps and breathe in the cold, crisp air - and it'll all be worth it. Well, for the husband and #1, #2 and #3 it will. They will throw themselves down sheer rock faces shrieking with glee. Then they all wait at the bottom pointing up and laughing at me while I slowly edge down thinking "I have not got time for a broken leg" and "God, I need a drink".

Needless to day, this trip is usually fuelled by copious amounts of alcohol. There's the 'helping with the packing' bottle (the result of which is that, whilst all the children's stuff is remembered and neatly packed, I invariably forget something crucial of my own - like knickers), the 'thank god we've arrived' bottle, the 'we're on holiday and it's lunch time' bottle, the 'I made it down alive' bottle, etc etc. This time I'm going to have to have the bottle to do it all without the bottle.

On the upside, I will be away from all the usual triggers: my fridge, the wine rack in the hall, the wine shop, my drinking buddies and so on. Plus, I've found that the most effective way to beat cravings is being outdoors and exercise, and there's going to be loads of outdoors and exercise. And the beautiful Swiss Alps have to be the very best place to practice Mindfulness.

I notice that I have loads of readers in the UK and US, plus lots in places like Ireland, Finland, Belgium, Spain, France and the Netherlands. But only 2 page views from Switzerland - and I bet those were in error. I reckon the Swiss are just too sensible (and live in a place too beautiful) to end up as alcohol addicts. After all, Switzerland is where all the mad English aristocracy were sent to 'take the cure' in Victorian times - they got bored of all the fresh air and clinics so they tied planks to their feet and invented downhill skiing - I kid you not.

Given that we are doing budget holiday, our apartment has no wifi. I will try to post from a café or something while I'm away, as writing this blog and reading your comments has become rather an addiction in itself, but I'm not sure how easy it will be so do not worry if I go quiet for ten days. I may have fallen off a mountain, but I will not fall off the wagon. (repeat endlessly to self).

If you're new to this blog then "HELLO AND WELCOME!" and please do check out some of my previous posts while I'm away. Here are some ideas:

If you're looking for some good reasons for not drinking then have a look at: The wine belly, livers and mojos, sleep glorious sleep and why ex-drinkers rock.

If you want to know about the downsides of quitting look at: alcohol withdrawal symptoms, will I lose all my friends and fed up Friday.

If you're interested in my journey so far check out: Mummy was a secret drinker, the Maintenance drinker, secret drinker hits the high bottom, discovering mindfulness and Sundays - hair of the dog.

Love, and Happy Easter, to you all! SM x