This Christmas season, like all that have preceded it, has been boozy. It wouldn’t be a huge exaggeration to say that on more than one occasion over the past week I’ve felt an awful lot like a flattened grape. Somewhat pulverized, excessively stirred and gradually, not helped by the freakish December heat wave, stewed just like the festively, sickly mulled wine I’ve been consuming by the barrel load.
Just like when I was twenty something, Sundays have once again become the designated hangover day. However, unlike in my twenties, there’s never been a better time to be a temporary drunkard. Netflix has revolutionized the world of hangovers, with online movies and box sets streaming just a few clicks away. Many a December day, afternoon and evening this year has been spent led in front of the TV watching episode after episode of the new, next best thing. In case you’re wondering, right now it’s Californication, a story about a drunken writer, who isn’t really writing. I’ve no idea why this series “speaks to me” at this precise moment in time!
Another thing which has changed since my twenties is the degree to which I regret drinking, which has astronomically increased. People often document the extent to which age brings increasingly harsh hangovers and let me state for the record, my hangovers do tend to make me feel like death on a bad acid trip. However, on this occasion I’m not actually referring to the physical pain brought on by excessive glugging. What gets the better of me after a heavy night out is actually the physiological impact of my pissedness. Regret, sorrow and a strange anxious feeling that can’t quite be explained are all common couplings of the throbbing head and nausea. It is what is commonly referred to as “Post Drinking Fear” and this fear is never quite as rife as it is around the holiday period. It was this fear that led me to start running around three years ago, following on from a Christmas drinkathon. This may seem an extreme re-navigation of one's life style based on a toxic cocktail of wine and beer, but nothing seemed more sensible following a month long bender than to sign up for a 26.4 miles run.
As I write this it’s raining outside. The wind is battering the windows and the rain is beating its drum against the glass. The sound of rain on windows reminds me of being a child. Growing up I lived in an old Victorian house, and my room was situated in a converted loft that happened to have a skyline panel just above my bed. As I child I loved the rain. The dramatic hammering of each water droplet, against that skyline, reinforced just how safe and warm I was and made the outside world seem somehow distant and unimportant. As an adult I don’t think that luxurious viewpoint is practical, and as such as the rain pounds my London dwelling I sit here inexplicably contemplating my Christmas fear.
Christmas, for most, means more chances to have a tipple or two. Often this leads to more like like a tipple or four. For many this is a cause for frivolity and cheer. Horary, for those people. More drinks, generally equates to more drunks, which in turn and depending on the character of said drunks leads to an increased level of happiness. Yes, yes we all know alcohol is a depressant but let’s gloss over that fact for now. Afterall, since when has the truth ever gotten in the way of me telling a story? For those of us that are prone to “The Fear”, Christmas poses a significant hurdle. With the inflated number of drinking related events, with both work based colleagues and friends, December represents a true opportunity to scuffer friendships, promotion hopes and new job opportunities. This all within the space of a few weeks!
Take one truly fear ridden example, the office party. Normally an event attended by colleagues, all of whom are encouraged to drink as much as they can, as quickly as possible, having eaten little or no food. This food, if indeed it is consumed at all, normally takes the physical form of pringles or slightly dodgy sausage rolls. Not exactly substantial! It’s also worth bearing in mind that these same people come from an array of different background and all have completely unique personality types. So much so that under normal circumstances it’s unlikely you’d get such a mixture of people in the same room together socially. On top of that you have a lot of suppressed emotion and feeling, from each group member, which he or she has probably tried desperately to hide for the duration of the year in the interest of work based cooperation. There’s absolutely no question that this is a solid breeding ground for Post Drinking Fear.
We’ve witnessed those cringe worthy situations where your manager starts to get a little loose with their tongue. They’ve had a few cheeky sherbets and all of a sudden they forget where they are and, more importantly, who they’re talking too. They’re with the workers and they start talking like they’re “one of the people”. Management aren’t people, we know that, they’re management so let us not pretend. I’m also certain that when they wake up they replay their ‘I’m one of you speeches’ through their head they’re completely mortified. They at least should be. Another favorite cameo at the Christmas party is the employee who decides to tell their boss exactly what they think of them. This has never ended pleasantly. Calling your boss a tosser, because he’s just proclaimed himself one of you, is not okay, and never will be. It also won’t help you with your ladder climbing ambitions.
Sadly it’s not just the tongue that loosens up after a few bevies. Many find drinking a great opportunity to abandon even the most basic of toilet etiquette. Christmas parties tend to prompt a raft of regrettable dribbling, peeing and puking escapades regardless of the social setting. Now the above examples have been told from the perspective of a work party, but the same applies to friend based events as well. The catch up drinks start in late November and then come thick and fast. By the end of December, you’re so tired, who really knows what’s exiting your mouth, or who they’re offending in some way? I also find that that as the I also find that I end up meeting more friends together than at any other time of the year, giving proceedings a hint of unpredictability.
Perhaps that’s why Christmas drinking, for me at least, can feel more like work than pleasure. Too much drink and too many uncontrollable variables makes for a fear ridden time of the year. It’s little wonder that I wake up in a cold sweat, with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach more frequently around December. My anxiousness is born from the overwhelming feeling that somehow, in a way I probably can’t remember very clearly, i’m sabotaging my own personal and professional life one drink at a time. Did I say too much? Did I say too little? What did so and so think about this? What did so and so think about that? Even at the most opportune times I’m a pretty terrified person. I don’t just get post drinking fear but I also get pre drinking fear, which basically means that the only time I’m not afraid is when I’m drinking. Please don’t confuse this with alcoholism because I’m not saying I need to drink. All I saying is that I’m just terrified when I don’t!
Should I be worried about that? Maybe, possibly, probably. Oh bugger it, I'll have a drink to help me decide.
