We were going out to dinner...

...so I was choosing some earrings to wear that would look pretty, but not get stuck in my hair or fall out of my ears (this happens frequently). We'd arranged to meet at the restaurant - well calling it a restaurant is a bit much as the service is pretty lax and the food variable at best, but it's local and serves the kind of italian food you know you'll enjoy anyway.

The first time we'd eaten there I'd asked for the gnocchi and they said it wasn't available that evening. A few days later Hubbie (then boyfriend) was making me some dinner at his flat. He made gnocchi because, "I wanted to make you happy." It was a pretty foregone conclusion that we'd be married after that. We still went to the restaurant every week despite them forgetting our starters, regularly having only two thirds of the menu available and occasionally just not remembering we were even there. It's safe to say it wasn't the busiest place in Battersea.

After only a year of being married we were still holding on to the romantic rituals and habits that we had started when we were first courting. The regular meals out, the walks along the river on a Sunday, city breaks and holidays during school term time. Ah the bliss of the childless. Not that we didn't want children of course, we just hadn't had them yet and it was only a matter of time.

We had been trying since before the wedding and while we hadn't expected to get the jackpot honeymoon baby we were just wondering if there was something going on that we should know about. In fact we both went to see our respective GPs to check that all was ok with us and had various blood tests, which for a man who hates the sight of blood was a bit of a trial really. Hubbie was going to see his doctor after work for his results then coming to join me for dinner.

I put on lip gloss and mascara and checked my reflection for any smudges. A whole day at work can do weird things to a face and no amount of candlelight can disguise it, so I was relying on the magical power of make-up to give the illusion of natural beauty. I heard the double beep of a text message coming through. As I picked up my coat and went to the door I glanced at the screen. "I'm finished here. See you in ten xx"

As I walked I saw the evening runners in Battersea Park wearing reflective gear, bobbing along like fireflies. It was one of my favourite places to run too and I loved living so close that I could go there before work. I had encouraged Hubbie to run with me and he'd become quite a keen runner himself. He was even training for the Windsor half marathon.

By the time I got the restaurant he was already standing outside and he smiled as he caught sight of me. He held the door open for me and I joked that I hoped he'd had a snack on the way just in case. We sat at a table by the window - a mistake, they never see you sitting there, but you can watch everyone else walk past. I asked if he'd had a nice day and he smiled again. The waitress came over and took our drinks orders. My coat fell off the back of my chair so I went to retrieve it from the floor and realised I hadn't asked and he hadn't told me. "What did the doctor say ?" "Oh not a lot really." "Ok, good or bad news then ?" I laughed a little, he didn't. "He says it's highly unlikely we can have children." The waitress came back with our drinks. She asked if we were ready to order yet. We both shook our heads.

Now I looked a little closer I could see behind his glasses that his eyes were red. He still had his coat on and he hadn't looked at me since we sat down in the restaurant. I reached out to put my hand over his on the table. After some time he said, "What do you want to do ?" After a bit more time I said, "Well I'm going to order the gnocchi." We both smiled, he took off his coat and we raised our glasses to each other.

This post is my entry for the Mumsnet Blogfest competition using Lionel Shriver's favourite first line from a book. 
Fingers crossed :o) 

If I could turn back time… I probably wouldn't

I went to a work reunion this evening in Putney with colleagues I knew more than 12 years ago. It was a workplace where I genuinely knew other people's business and even though it was a large charity based on two separate sites I knew people in every department by the time I left. Part of this is because of my natural nosiness and part of it is because I was there at a significant time in my life.

• Shortly after I joined VSO I got married to my first husband. 
• Not long after that I left my first husband. 
• I moved back in with my parents, lost weight and cut my hair short - first the "Rachel" then proper short.
• Celebrated my 30th birthday on the London Eye with some of my colleagues invited. 
• My doomed infatuation with "Sid" who worked on the floor below and cycled to work - what was it about men from the North East with long dark hair ? 

In fact we were both fresh from bad break ups - he'd just separated from 'Mandy' and she took the kettle. I'd left and taken the iron even though I don't actually do ironing.

Maybe it's because I had so much turmoil in my personal life that I knew so much about my colleagues' lives ? Here's a representative sample: 

• The lovely lady with two young sons whose husband walked out leaving her and the boys.
• The soft spoken woman who had a bleed on the brain
• The man whose ambition was to drive Route 66, but had to pass his driving test first 

This morning I panicked when I realised that my hair really desperately needed a wash and I couldn't do it today. What if "Sid" was there ? I had no expectation that he would be or that he'd even know who I was any more. More to the point I am happily married so it really wouldn't matter. He wasn't there.

I left early as I'd spoken to the friend I wanted to see the most, but also because I kept having flashbacks. Evenings spent drinking wine and eating crisps in the Coat and Badge pub until very late. Sitting in dark corners wondering if "Sid" and I would ever progress from pub talk to dinner (we did) from dinner to dating (we didn't).

Still nostalgia is nice isn't it ?  

I cook, therefore I am

Apparently we're all in love with baking now thanks to the Great British Bake Off. To be honest I think we all watch cooking shows, but very few of us actually do any cooking. I have been inspired by Gordon Ramsey's Ultimate Cookery Course, not to make any of his recipes, but to properly cook from scratch again which I had moved away from doing once my boy was born. The rise of the 'dine in' offer has also scuppered any creativity in preparing meals other than to choose which side dish goes with which main course. So why are we all so fascinated by watching other people cook ?

Food as love

The massive worldwide success of the Come Dine With Me formula suggests that the appeal is not restricted to watching someone prepare food that we can't make. It's about nosing round someone else's kitchen - just ask Hubbie how often I've said "ooh I love that kitchen, I'd like that cooker and island if we had the space."There's also something about seeing how other people cook at home. Let's face it we aren't buying the whole 'I'm at home and this is how I cook for my family' scenario that TV chefs fake for us. It's a well constructed artifice even if it is in their actual home.

Delia was the original and her no nonsense domestic science teacher approach told us how to do the basics which is why her 'how to cook' series is still the go to guide for a lot of amateur cooks. She appeared to be in her own kitchen at home and we all rushed out to get the exact same muffin tray or mixing bowl so that we could cook just like her. Who can forget the famous run on limes when she cooked with one and all the supermarkets were caught off guard.

The polar opposite of Delia was the manic outdoor cooking of Keith Floyd that showed us how to prepare food while drinking wine at the same time - a more realistic depiction of cooking for most of us. If Delia was domestic science then Heston is food technology. He does the actual science bit and the food is pretty secondary to it all. Then we have Jamie who's more home 'eck than anything else. I'm willing to believe that he's at home, but we all know how controversial the whole 'meal in 30 minutes' offering turned out to be. He's far too heavy handed with the olive oil for my liking and when will he give the oven settings in gas marks please ? Also, stop telling us how good it smells eh Jamie ? It's just not on.

I've always given a wide berth to Nigella (no pun intended), but having watched her newest show I can vouch for her being so gorgeous that the cooking is pretty irrelevant. I don't want to watch someone who is so self satisfied with her own cooking that I feel like a voyeur thanks. Nigel Slater is more my thing. His recipes are unfathomable, with a pinch of this and a handful of that, but his soft spoken delivery and clear enjoyment of food are bewitching. I am baffled at the concept of a 'leftover duck breast,' which he cooked this week, but that aside his kitchen garden approach is a winner for me.

This brings me onto the one sticking point I have with TV chefs - eating on camera. I noticed watching Gordon that he doesn't eat his own food. It's refreshing to not have a chef scoff what they've just cooked on screen. If I have to shout 'don't talk with your mouth full !' at Lorraine Pascale again I swear I will get very cross. I realise that part of the Nigella factor is watching her stuff her face, but I don't go to a restaurant to watch the chef eat his own cooking - why would I do that with TV ?

I cook to make people happy. Whether it's a cake for my boys or to thank the neighbours for babysitting. Indian food for Mother-in-law and Brother-in-law when they visit us. Or flapjacks for my friend SJ to stop her having low blood sugar in the afternoons on the way home from work (well that's more a public service really - you don't want to have a crazed hungry woman on your bus home do you ?)

I may not get a TV show out of it, but that's ok… for now.

Kitchen Confidential (or thrills, spills and lentils)

You already know about my unhealthy obsession with Come Dine With Me and food in general. I have also said I'd never do the programme because no one comes out of it looking anything other than grasping and desperate or incompetent and clueless. I have no idea what I'd cook and while I enjoy cooking I don't think I'm especially skilled at it. I also fear a disaster in the kitchen which once on tape would haunt me forever.

True I do sit around thinking about what I'm going to eat next or even tomorrow. If I have a random ingredient to use up I spend a ridiculous amount of time trawling the internet and poring over my cookbooks to find a suitable recipe. Usually I find one that requires yet more ingredients so I end up with even more in the cupboard which I'll need to use up at a later date. This is why I make banana cake so often - we buy a lot of bananas and if they go a bit soft or spotty I won't eat them. The plus side is I don't like cooked bananas so Hubbie and our friend Jan are the main beneficiaries of my baking prowess, so I don't end up piling on the pounds and I appear altruistic.

When Hubbie cooks a special meal for me he will find a recipe that requires at least 12 ingredients (only 4 of which I have in) and I end up with bottles of rose essence, mustard seeds, desiccated coconut and curry leaves to use at a later date. The meal is always delicious and far more inventive than anything I would try, but then it is an annual effort so he does go to town a bit.

Of course cooking almost every day means there will be occasional mishaps and some of them are so bad they put you off that foodstuff for life.

Here - in no particular order - are some of the many disasters I have had in my years of cooking:

1. While rushing around in the world's smallest kitchen preparing food I dropped an entire bowl of homemade potato salad on the floor before a picnic with friends. Only one of them witnessed it and she is no longer in the circle so can't tell anyone when they might have tasted floor food.

2. The options were to steam for 30 minutes or to zap in the microwave for 10 minutes so for ease I did that latter and this meant we had an exploding rice filled lotus leaf with our beautifully marinated and steamed fish.

3. During an experimental phase with fruit and curry I made an ill-judged decision to put grapefruit in chicken curry. To quote Ross and Monica's dad Jack Geller, "it was not good."

4. In an attempt to use up a box of mangos left by my Dad for my son (which he didn't like) I decided to make my own sorbet / ice cream. I managed to do the stirring every few hours bit for most of the day then forgot and left it overnight. Lets just say it needs to be taken out of the freezer a few hours before eating in order to break into it - yes it is a bit too frozen.

5. I had a pot of quark that I had used about one spoonful of and needed to finish so I had the genius idea to make mushroom pate with it instead of greek yoghurt. The taste was pretty good, but it was quite sloppy. Of course my guests were far too polite to comment on the runniness of the starter.

And the ones that I got away with:

When working in the staff kitchen in Sainsburys I managed to seriously burn the sponge pudding so I poured some lemon icing over it and was astounded at the compliments I got for my "treacly citrus pudding." 

I found a load of seeds and nuts that I'd bought while pregnant and not finished so I adapted my usual cookie recipe to include them. The results were not to my taste, but by all accounts they were a hit with Hubbie's work colleagues. 

Only today I halved the quantities in a recipe for cookies, but a miscalculation meant I added double coconut into the mix. We have yet to find out what the consequences of this error are as the mix won't be cooked until it's been in the fridge overnight. 

Fingers crossed it won't be so bad it'll go into the first list !

All creatures great and small

At the weekend two horses died as a result of taking part in the Grand National - a race generally seen as very hard on both riders and horses. Once again people have raised issues of safety and animal welfare in a sport where horses have a 'shelf life' just as the dogs in greyhound racing do. For me this raises the ugly question of whether we have the right as humans to use animals for our entertainment.

Of course as someone who shares their house with a cat we have plenty of entertainment of the feline kind. Only yesterday Hubbie was looking out of the kitchen window and said "who is that at the end of the garden ?" He meant the tabby cat who is a newcomer to our garden, but I thought he meant the fox that was tiptoeing his way towards the cat. We scrambled to get outdoor shoes on to chase off the fox and I quipped that if I had a red coat and a horse we wouldn't have this problem. In the early days of our courtship me and Hubbie took part in a debate about fox hunting where we took opposite points of view. It's not the first time I've had that discussion and I still cannot fathom how anyone can see fox hunting as a fun day out rather than a brutal 'sport.' I don't see the appeal of chasing a fox using a pack of dogs and surely being drunk in charge of a horse is just irresponsible ?

I have the same problem with zoos, so not taking my son to see the animals is something I will have to explain to him when he is older. In the same way I'm sure he will want to know why Mummy doesn't eat meat. I stopped eating meat in my teens mostly as I read an interview with Madonna where she said that vegetarians are thinner and paler (yes at the age of 13 I cared what she said !) but also as I was horrified by how animals were kept and cared for in order to be eaten. Battery farming especially made me very distressed so seeing the free range hens that live a few doors away makes my heart sing every morning.

About 15 years later I went through an experimental phase with meat. I had been struggling with IBS for a few years and took advice to get some tests to see if it was the food I was eating. The testing was pretty dubious and I was told I was 'intolerant' to wheat, caffeine, peppers, onions, cabbage, red wine, etc. The usual rubbish that you get when you go for a non medical or 'natural' explanation is to cut out wheat, dairy and sugar, ie. all the nice foods. As a veggie I pretty much lived on pasta and potatoes so to be told that my staple foods were off the menu came as something of a shock and left me with few options (or so I thought). I started to eat some chicken then slowly reintroduced other foods that I hadn't eaten for over a decade. To be honest I found meat really uninteresting and dull. It didn't inspire creativity and frankly I'd have preferred to just be able to eat toast. A few years ago I decided again that I prefer not to eat meat and as it is so much more normal now than it was when I first became veggie and the choices are better.

I still vacillate on the decision about whether or not to eat fish and it is one that vexes me as I am always  on the brink of giving it up. I do really enjoy fish though and despite my high minded ideals there has to be space for enjoyment in life doesn't there ?  Speaking of which I did try being a vegan at university (didn't we all ?) and was exhausted, spotty and pale as well as very hungry all the time. I mean who can live without a piece of cake and a cup of tea (no soy or rice milk just doesn't cut it I'm afraid). I admire those who can eat well on a limited diet, but frankly my body was built on chocolate, chips and cheese. Oh, and the occasional piece of buttery toast.

My fair lady ( Oh wouldn't it be luvverly ?)

In the last two days I've been following two news stories that show how important we feel it is to be fair. In the case of an LA fitness gym insisting on a couple paying their 2 year membership despite them being close to destitute there was outrage on Twitter. In the end for fear of further opprobrium the gym chain climbed down and waived the contractual arrangement. Cue hand wringing and wailing and gnashing of teeth over how hideous the contracts are when we all know that it's people paying up front and not using the gym that renders profit and enables people like me to have so many free trial sessions.

The other story being played out today on local news radio is that babies will need paid for tickets to attend Olympic events. The last I heard they were reconsidering this as various Mummy websites and even the (mostly useless) equality and human rights commission suggested there might be a case for claiming sex discrimination if a mother taking a child to the games was required to pay for that child. I bought tickets to some events and at the time had no idea I was also expected to buy tickets for my son. There is no question of him not coming with us. How can I not take him to a once in a lifetime event taking place in his own home town ?  Mumsnet and Netmums - for all the pointless meandering tub thumping about mini dramas that affect their precious little Avi-Mays and Ocean-Blues - do stand up for the things that they believe to be fair.

My own issue with fairness is one that causes people to look away muttering in almost complete disgust. I am the person who does the unthinkable. I check the bill at the end of the meal and work out what everyone owes in order to be fair to all - it's not popular and it's completely unEnglish. I have a strong opinion about why it is important to do this and there are two meals in particular that have caused me to become the human calculator and social pariah.

Firstly when I was a student I didn't have a lot of money, but I did work during holidays and even during term time to finance my way through my degree studies. I still met up with friends who I had worked with in my Saturday job at a library and at one particular Christmas meal I ordered one course - the cheapest dish - and one soft drink as I knew I didn't have the means to splash out. The senior librarians ordered massive sharing starters, expensive main courses and puddings, wine and coffees. When the bill came they split it 5 ways and I didn't want to make a fuss so I ended up subsidising their meals by paying well over the £10 that my meal had actually cost.

The second time was when a friend chose a reasonably priced venue for his 30th birthday which was offering a three course menu for £16. Me and hubbie went along and the other diners had already been drinking before we arrived. They had ordered champagne for the birthday boy (very generous we thought) and they also thought it would be a wheeze to order him some shots - after all you only turn 30 once don't you ? When the bill came it was carved up and we were told we owed £45. I questioned how this was so when I hadn't had any alcohol and hubbie had one beer and our food was only £16. A recalculation was done and we were still ordered to part with £30 each. That means my cup of tea and hubbie's beer cost £14 each.

I vowed from then on to not be taken advantage of again when other 'friends' decide to be generous with my money.

This was tested when I was on a skiing holiday with some friends in Whistler and we went out for dinner with a couple we didn't know very well, but who seemed nice enough. He wanted to order a particular bottle of red wine and we said that was fine, but we didn't want any. When the bottle came he insisted we try it which we politely did. So when he divided the bill up for us all to pay I said that wasn't fair as one of us had only eaten soup and the others hadn't ordered the wine. We paid for what we had eaten and included a tip. The correct money in the dish we all got ready to leave and he again asked us for money for a tip which we explained to him we'd already included. He had expected us to subsidise his choice of wine and we were pretty clear that wasn't going to happen.

I don't think twice about challenging bill payments now as I think I'm old enough not to care if someone is offended by me saying I'll only pay what I owe. We're all on a budget these days so if you want to splash out pay for yourself - it's only fair.

Fairness is a simple concept and one that in principle we all agree with. It's just that some people think it's only fair to take advantage of others. It's a small stand to say no I won't pay for your dinner, or your extravagance in wine or cocktails, but it's a start.

Oh and I'm taking my son to the Olympic games whatever Seb Coe says - and so there !

To be or not to be… a social butterfly

Going out when you're a stay-at-home Mum is simplicity itself. Most of my social interactions involve drinking tea in churches or children's centres. On a Monday there is toast, on a Wednesday there is usually home baking and on Tuesdays and Fridays the lad gets fruit before we all sing songs. Playgroups and stay and play mornings provide activities for children while also giving Mums a chance to stand or sit around making small talk with other Mums / grandparents / aunties. Occasionally the church group I go to has a pamper morning and we get to come home with slightly smudged, but freshly painted nails. 

So imagine my unbridled joy this week at being able to have not just one, but two evenings out sans son or hubbie. I went to watch Michael Sheen as Hamlet - three and a half hours to myself with an interval ice cream and a leisurely walk in the crisp London night. Before you feel sorry for me, please understand that watching Hamlet is a solitary activity for me. I don't need to discuss the plot or the acting with anyone and I prefer to just settle in to the performance and take it all in. Not least as it's a long time to sit with someone if you think you may run out of small talk by half time. 

Tonight, however, was the sociable kind of night out with food, drink and chat. I saw friends I haven't seen in a few years, some of whom haven't met our new family member and they did politely ask to see photos. If you don't have children seeing photos of other people's can be at best boring and at worst wildly inappropriate. I've lost count of the number of people who have shown me photos of their children naked. It's completely uncalled for and makes me very uncomfortable. 

The other thing with meeting up with a group of diverse friends is that the level of noise is like going to my Mum's house. The volume increases as more people arrive at the venue and as my fellow diners imbibe more and more alcohol their volume (and speed of speech) increases exponentially too. Now bear in mind that most of my conversation during the day is slow, deliberate and repetitive. We had more than 20 rounds of Old Mcdonald had a farm in the car today as my boy likes to sing "ee aye ee aye oh." So being at a table of adults who are not comparing stories about teething, eating vegetables and choosing pre-schools is a welcome change. It is also, however, massively difficult as I am just not used to the scattergun chat as I try to teach my son to listen nicely and not to talk over people. It took a long time for me to slow down to a child's pace so really I should have eased myself back into the world of full on noisy adults. 

What is has also given me is an insight into the joy of being away from my family so that when I see them again I remember how much I totally love them. Even as I type the cat has wandered over to see me - he usually just asks for food - as he missed me while I was out. Absence does appear to make the heart grow fonder, even if it's only for a few hours. 

lip-smacking, gnocchi-making, cheerleading, hubbieman :o)

So I was watching Ocean's Eleven the other evening and while I drooled watching Brad and George it occurred to me that I have very pedestrian taste in the men I lust after from afar. It isn't like I'm the only one to have noticed that William Bradley Pitt is a good looking chap so I console myself with the knowledge that I noticed him first.

It was while watching Thelma and Louise at university (as an example of feminism in film) that my least feminist thoughts came to me about the character of JD. It's mainly that thing he does when he licks his lips - which any girl who has read romantic fiction will tell you is what the hero does right before he kisses you passionately.

Similarly I remember George - before he was considered gorgeous - as Booker in Roseanne, a wholly unlikeable character who dated Roseanne's sister Jackie and was written out fairly early on. I recall thinking he was yummy, but feeling bad about it as he was such a git. So imagine my feeling of joy when years later he reappeared as a doctor in ER and it was ok to fancy him again ! Of course the real appeal of George isn't his twinkly look, it is his complete refusal to settle down. Remember how Warren Beattie was the sexiest man alive and considered untameable, so when he finally did marry Annette Bening his sex appeal vanished. George is far too savvy to risk it, so it gives all of us hope that we might get a go. Well, if Mariella Frostrup and Lisa Snowdon can go out with him then I'm pretty sure we're all in with a chance.

In reality neither of them would be quite considerate enough for me which is why I'm with my hubbie. Ok, it's not the only reason, it's not like I weighed up the odds of ending up with either George or Brad and decided that hubbie was a better bet. He did the leg work and continues to put up with the insanity that is my approach to life. Whether it's the ever changing house rules, "I never use the stripey glass for water." "Can I have some water in the stripey glass please ? Of course it's ok, it's a glass isn't it ?" or my inability to read instructions that come with anything, he is the most patient of human beings.

At the time I met my hubbie I'd been online dating for a while and had met the usual array of weirdos, loonies and men who suddenly realise they are alone and all their friends are paired off so they had better meet someone pretty soon. (Don't worry they say equally lovely things about the women they met). My expectations were low and I was just grateful to meet an intelligent man who didn't mind being beaten by a woman in a debate. When we actually started to go out with each other (I can't say dating, it sounds too american and formal for the carnival of drinking and eating our way round London that was our early courtship) I realised that maybe I didn't have unattainable standards, I'd just been going out with completely the wrong people. We went to an italian restaurant one evening and I fancied gnocchi which I was told they didn't have, so I changed my order. A week later when we were having dinner at his place he cooked me gnocchi and I told him that it was my favourite pasta. Later he confessed that he made it because I'd been disappointed at the restaurant and he wanted to make me happy. Seriously, how often does someone tell you they want to make you happy ?

Now, having been married for five years he has gone from hanging on my every utterance to selective deafness (which happens in all marriages I'm told) and as we live together the element of surprise is pretty non-existent. So you can imagine my delight when I received an unexpected early Christmas present on Saturday. I'd just been on Radio London telling Robert Elms that my dream would be to learn to fly and hubbie and baby were in the other room cheering me along. When the item finished hubbie went upstairs to get something and came back and presented me with the gift of a flying lesson. Apparently when we were out exploring a few weeks back and managed to end up at Biggin Hill I mentioned that I'd love to have a go at flying and he had remembered.

So you see Brad and George, while you are wealthy and famous and good looking and have a special place in my heart, it will always be just below the place reserved for hubbie.

"would you like ice with that ?"

Being on holiday means doing things you just don't do otherwise - these include:

1. wearing flip flops to dinner

2. smiling at and talking to complete strangers 

3. eating about 5 times as much as usual 

4. drinking during the day 

The last of these is the one that I find causes the most controversy. On a flight to Vancouver with friends for a skiing holiday Harriet leaned over to me and whispered, "are we drinking ?" as they wheeled the drinks trolley through the cabin. It was 11am in Heathrow and I'd already been traumatised at being told I needed at least 6 months on my passport to enter Canada (I had 5) and because an older Asian man who had taken 20 minutes to check my passport before we got on the plane had told me to carry a second form of ID 'just in case.' So I replied, "Well we are on holiday."

In America they have a very different relationship with drinking and see it as a form of sociopathy to drink like we do over here. My friend Steph has a Scottish father and a Californian mother. She moved to San Francisco about ten years ago and after 2 months in her new job her work colleagues staged an intervention as they were worried about her drinking every evening after work. In order to alleviate their fears she explained, "It's ok I'm not an alcoholic, I'm British." When me and hubbie went to Las Vegas we had some explaining to do as 'Sin City' seems to also have an issue with what they consider problem drinking. Ironic really for a place that sells a jug of margaritas for $1 and where you can drink for free so long as you keep playing the slots. 

I blame my own delight in drinking during the day on a poor start to my drinking life. While it's customary to have a youth filled with illicit cider drinking and getting into pubs when underage I did no such thing. I went to university ill-prepared for the nights out and had no idea what to order when someone asked me what I was drinking. For one term I drank only Martinis and for another pints of black Russian. Not only was this bizarre, but also very, very expensive. It also meant that my traditional Sunday night out left me so hungover that I routinely fell asleep during lectures on Monday afternoon. Well what do you expect when you timetable 6 hours of history for a Monday ? I told everyone I was narcoleptic, but I suspect they didn't believe me as I slid down my chair then snored like an asthmatic Alsation while Trevor tried to drum up interest in the crusades. 

Not being able to hold my drink was also my downfall at work functions so I decided to just tell people I didn't drink as it was much simpler than explaining that later I'd fall asleep in the loos at Paddington so that my male work colleague would have to send a woman in to find me and ask if I was alright. 

In the last few years I've been drinking a lot less, first because I was dieting, then because I became pregnant and chose not to drink at all and subsequently because if I had a drink then fed by son he'd be up all night like a loony. So it makes me laugh when I see my in-laws as they always offer me a drink before dinner with the explanation "of course we don't usually drink on a (insert day of the week here) it's only because it's Xmas, Easter, the Queen's birthday, the end of the bottle." They needn't bother of course, but for some reason they feel the need to justify it. It's almost refreshing in a culture where if you don't drink everyone thinks you must be a bit weird. When hubbie stopped drinking someone asked him (in all seriousness) if it was because he had the clap. I might try that line next time someone says "Oh go on, one won't hurt."