I often envy Jamie

for many reasons. He's bright, popular, fashionable and spends most of his summers DJing in Ibiza.

The main reason I've always remembered him, even envied him, is that he doesn't drink, smoke or do drugs. I was quite taken aback when he told me because it didn't seem at all natural, because that's what my friends and I had been doing for a good few years. 'What do you do for fun?' I asked him and he told me that life is fun anyway.

With a little bit of help from yet another Allen Carr book - this time an almost-worthless pile of shit with a few precise and insightful messages at its core - I've realised that the implied 'fun' that alcohol supposedly provides us with is an illusion, and that it's just another drug. When I think of it that way, I want to treat it like all the other drugs I've taken - if I do them too often they fuck me up, try to cut them out completely.

Carr's book says the only way to control alcohol is to never drink it, the same maxim he used for quitting smoking. While I was reading it I told myself it'd be great to stop completely, and maybe I'll do just that. One problem I had with Alcoholic's Anonymous is they promoted abstinence over control, combined with not socialising with other drinkers. All my friends drink so that wasn't an option so I thought I'd like to control my alcohol intake instead of stopping completely. Now I realise I could have stopped completely and still maintained my social life. I was scared to at the time just like I'm scared to now, but I can see the benefits to not drinking so clearly now, especially after my successful night out last week.

It's true that whenever I see a massively drunk person in a bar or the street I feel pity for them. When I notice someone's slurring or leering or being aggressive while drinking, I don't envy them. I know how retrospectively embarrassing these things can be but I never associate my own drinking with these outward displays of buffoonery. Until now, that is. I want to take responsibility for my behaviour and never get so drunk I'm out of control. I'm not even sure I want to get slightly drunk again. I'm somewhat stuck between a desire to rid myself of something which damages me and a lifetime of indoctrination that it's good and fun and exciting and makes me really sexy and interesting. I know for a fact it does none of those things - it makes me all manner of horrible things that I wouldn't wish upon myself if I were sober.

The only remaining crutch to defeat is the feeling that things are more fun with alcohol. I occasionally use it to alleviate boredom at home and socially, but Mr Carr makes an interesting point: if you were to sit at home with your booze and just drink it, no tv, no music, no books, no games, no distractions whatsoever, you wouldn't really enjoy drinking, so why use it to make those things more exciting? I see this as an opportunity to make life more fun in real, tangible ways instead of the illusory, skewed method of consuming alcohol to increase excitement.

So there it is. It's out there. I want to quit alcohol. It sounds crazy but it's true. I've got one last tinnie at home. I'll probably follow the book's advice which is similar to that of stopping smoking - have the last drink, focussing on everything that's bad about it, the taste, the calories, the negative effects on health and personality, and have that final drink... Make it the last drink, never have another, and look forward to a life free of the problems alcohol has given me.

I can't remember the last time I went to a pub and didn't drink

...mainly because it's never happened before. I'll start this post by saying I'm incredibly proud to have done something that was previously so unthinkable and still really enjoy myself. It's a testament to how wonderful my friends are that I had such a brilliant time without the social lubrication I usually depend on.

Anyone who's known me for more than five minutes knows I like a drink. A night out at a pub where the beer and conversation are flowing, I tend to get pretty pissed. My ability to pace myself has regularly deserted me and I dread to think how many units I'd get through in a standard binge. For the past year or so my social life has been much quieter which has been both a blessing and a curse - the former being that I haven't been getting trashed as much, the latter because now I'm getting back into socialising I realise how much I missed it.

This uncharacteristic period of beer-free clarity was brought about by an event that was both mightily enjoyable and quite tragic at the same time: an old friend came up from London and with the help of a more local chum we went out and turned our brains inside-out. It was a really enjoyable night, what I can remember of it, but I know I shamed myself because flashes of memory make me want to hold my head in my hands. Not only that but I ruined myself for the following day and knocked my sleep out by so much I'm still recovering eight days later.

The contrast between having a fantastically epic night out and seriously damaging my self-esteem and sleep patterns is quite obvious. When I went out a fortnight ago to celebrate a friend's birthday I got nicely drunk and got up for an eight-mile walk at 8am the following morning. I didn't really enjoy the first half of the walk and the effects of a short night's sleep followed me through the week. So, this weekend past I was due to walk again the next morning and decided not to drink. Most times I was offered a drink I turned it down, and I'd only accept a lime and lemonade if someone insisted. Every time I thought about alcohol but resisted, I gave myself a mental pat on the back and some personal kudos, strenghtening my resolve not to drink. I went into the pub thinking I'd maybe have a pint later, but once I realised how easy it is and how much fun I was having without the booze I decided to not drink all night. A number of people raised their eyebrows when they realised, and someone called it 'stupid' or 'silly' which I found quite surprising. A good friend who quit alcohol recently told me she's completely sick of people asking her why she doesn't drink and telling her she's boring and crazy, and I can see how that would get wearing. I'm going to have to get used to it though, because I think there's going to be many more occasions where I'm not going to drink.

I'm going to repeat myself now because it's a great thing and it's important I praise myself for it: I'm so very pleased, having the strength to not drink on such a big night out. I've changed my diet recently and I've moved away from putting things through my body which aren't good for me, and I guess alcohol is an extension of that. I've cut out strong cheap cider because I thought I might be allergic to it or one of its ingredients - that is still the case but I want to steer clear of it because it messes me up and is no good for me, so maybe I've taken some strength and learned some lessons from my dietary changes.

If you'd have told any one of my friends that I was going out for a big night in the pub but wouldn't have touched a drop of booze, they'd have bet good money you were wrong. I'd have probably done the same thing too. As it goes, it was far easier than I thought, much more fun, I only spent £17 instead of the £60 I got through one night recently, I didn't make a twat out of myself or catch myself slurring at anyone, I didn't buy munchies on the way home, I wasn't tempted to fill my face with chicken and chips and chili sauce from the kebab van and felt bloody brilliant the next day. I've come away with so much insight and strength it's crazy. At the moment, I can't think of a good reason why I'd want to go out and get completely pissed ever again.

Edit: further to this post: I often envy Jamie...

I've been encouraged to face difficult questions

recently to help develop my listening skills. I went swimming last night with a close friend and she asked me about the numerous scars on my left shoulder. I replied 'They're my legacy' which ended the conversation. I subsequently thought I could have described it as 'My depression's legacy' and that I'd really like to have explained to her in more detail for two reasons: first that I'd like to give her a valid explanation, and second that I know this won't be the last time someone asks me how I got the scars and I'd like to know how to deal with it in the future.

There are feelings about my scars which are good and bad. I see them as a constant reminder that I have to work to keep myself stable and not go back to that darkest of places. They remind me of how terribly low I was during that time, and how far I've progressed past the depression since. It's been more than two years since I last cut myself and that last episode was the catalyst to me going to the doctor and asking for proper, depression-busting help.

I'm very scared of what will happen when I get to know a woman, when we grow feelings for each other and head to bed, we undress and she sees my shoulder and it totally kills the mood and possibly the relationship. This is my worst fear. How do I manage that? I've no idea. It happened once and fortunately the lady involved didn't push for more detail other than 'I used to cut myself' when really it was only a few weeks previously I'd added to the scars and it wasn't my last episode.

I think I'm getting a bit lost here so I'll try and bring it back. I used to cut specifically when I'd been drinking heavily. This period of my life was one of the darkest and the cutting began when I'd been displaced from my regular living arrangement and was temporarily living in the darkest, dingiest flat in the whole of this town, which was 30 seconds from a nice pub. I was in a horrible place both physically and mentally and I got a lot of release and relief from cutting. Eventually I moved on from the hole-in-the-ground but not from the depression or the cutting, and after a lot of cheap strong cider and the biggest episode of cutting I phoned my mum and called for help. I ended up in a taxi to her house, sat on the steps outside her front door and told her I'd had enough, and she encouraged me to go to the doctors the very next morning. The rest is almost history, bar a couple of minor cuts in the weeks leading up to my counselling. The counselling and all the work I've done since have really sorted me out and I now know I'll never go back to who I was then.

So, how to answer the question when it comes up?

"I used to cut myself when I was depressed. I haven't done it for a long time and I won't do it again. I'm not that person any more. I'm not proud of my scars but they serve as a reminder of how far I've come since my darkest days. I'm happy to talk about it if you have any questions."

I don't know if that's too much or sufficient information. Obviously it will depend on how much I trust the individual to how open I am about my scars, but I feel somewhat comforted that I have considered a strategy for dealing with future questions about them, and that I've not even considered cutting myself for a long, long time.

A short chain of events

has let to a speedy, minor revolution in my food consumption. My dad mentioned he was planning to give up smoking and I recommended he read Allen Carr's Easy Way to Stop Smoking, which I've always seen as an incredible piece of writing because it helped me really enjoy quitting smoking. Who'd have ever thought that, eh? His claim is that he'll help you quit cigarettes and you'll really enjoy it. Bullshit, I hear you cry. It's true though. It's a very clever book.

When I looked on Amazon to buy him a surprise second-hand copy, Amazon's clever targeted 'People who bought this also bought this' box suggested The Easyweigh to Lose Weight by the same author. It was only three quid so I snapped up a copy of that for myself with the view that if it was as profound as his quit smoking book I might be able to finally shift not only this belly but also my compulsive eating habits.

Carr's method is to provide clarity on your motivations for doing certain things which you're fundamentally aware are bad for you but do them anyway because you think they're good. There's an element of brain-washing we and the media do which is so subtle we don't notice it happening. All smokers know that their addiction will probably kill them but they've convinced themselves to believe that they're getting a reward every time they spark up. It's much the same with eating the wrong foods, although his way of getting to the point in this book was via a discussion on creation theory and whether God exists or not, and I must say that I skim-read the last page or so of that section to get to the point. I think he ran the risk of alienating many of his readers by doing this when his point could have been made without involving spirituality, but I'm glad I stuck with it because some valid insight came from the read. I've still got 50 pages left and I know it can only get better because of what I've already gained.

First, I've realised something very important. I was inclined by the author to ask a question and I've asked it again and again since then: Why would I give my body second-rate food when the best food is available? Animals in the wild will only eat other food if their preferred food isn't on offer. Why would I actively choose to put anything but the best food through my body if best food in the world is readily available to me?

Next, the best foods available are fruit, vegetables, pulses and the like. Processed food loses much of its nutritional value in the processing so unprocessed foods are perfect.

I've realised that dairy and meat products are alien to our system, are difficult to digest and we're not able to make best use of them. This came as a surprise because, particularly growing up as a vegetarian, I've been indoctrinated to believe that meat is a crucial part of our diet and because it's suddenly (in the grand scheme of things) more available and mass-produced, so we feel obliged to eat it. Twenty years ago, meat was a treat for Sundays and occasional weekday meals; now it seems we're inclined to have meat as part of every meal.

Satisfying a strong hunger is so much more rewarding than satisfying no or gentle hunger. When you've had to go for a long while without a meal, doesn't the final eating taste so much better and give you much more pleasure? On reality shows like I'm A Celebrity, after days of eating rice and beans, a small piece of chocolate can elicit orgasmic reactions from men and women alike.

There's a few other observations that are part and parcel of the whole package and have helped build this attitude change. I'm hopeful I can stick with this new regime because it's not a diet and although it does involve a big change in my diet overall, I don't see that as a bad thing because there's so much rubbish I've wanted to cut out anyway so it's a good thing. A great thing!

My dreams were haunted again

last night as I woke myself from a bad dream. I remember the details of a couple of dreams and I think I may have woken myself twice several hours apart but I can't be sure I did so the second time.

The first time I dreamed I was a woman who was relaying her involvement in a horrible car accident to a doctor or psychiatrist. I was narrating the visual images while replaying the crash over and over in slow motion. I was flying through the air as though I'd been thrown through a windscreen and commenting on other people I could see and someone else who was flung also. I could almost touch their fingertips as we passed each other and they reached out to me with a look of horror on their face. I'd get to the end of the crash and rewind it in my mind and add detail to the scene. After a few repetitions I/she snapped out of it, jumped out of a hospital bed wearing a gown, thrashed around screaming and had to be restrained by staff. This whole scenario happened twice. The second time I was being restrained and dragged back to my bed and I remember thinking 'I'm not enjoying this. Bad dream! Wake up!' and I physically woke up shaking my head from side to side. As it was election night I thought I'd settle myself down by checking the results and managed to stay up until far too late, really screwing my day up today.

The second time I'm not entirely sure whether I woke myself up or just adjusted things actively within my dream. I remember thinking 'Bad dream, wake up!' then a feeling of comfort and smiling like the bad thing had been resolved. It's possible I just shifted things in my dream to get rid of the negative situation which, as I remember it, included a very sweet and sexy blonde lady who wasn't the cause of my distress and who I was sad not to find in the dream when it resolved.

It's a real pain in the arse because I rely on good sleep for good mood and simple things like motivation and enthusiasm for life, but there's a couple of really powerful things to take away from this. For the first time I can remember I woke myself up from a bad dream instead of being shocked out of it. This is incredibly useful as it means when I recognise a painful or shocking situation I can't change I can wake myself up. Secondly, if my feeling about my later dream is correct, it seems I may not have to wake myself if I can adjust the parameters of my dreams to steer away from nightmares.

I don't have bad dreams very often but I've had two in a couple of weeks. I'm not bothered by this really, especially if I've gained some control over them.

My perfect woman, part 2

Read Part 1
Faced with the question of what I'd like to see in my perfect partner's personality, it's very tempting to go off on a rant about what I don't want instead of focussing on the good things. I think it's indicative of the relationships I've had that I'm inclined to list undesirable negative traits instead of preferred positive ones. I might do that later but for now I'll remain optimistic.

She's got to be smart. I don't know if I mean book-smart, streetwise, academic or what, but I'd love to be with someone who is interested in the universe or physics, history or anthropology or something along those lines. Someone who's interested in the world around them, even if it's a passing interest, I really like that. I suppose it's reflecting part of my own personality, whether it's self-discovery or reading books about photosynthesis, that is an underlying urge to understand and investigate nature and the universe we live in.

She should be completely at home in nature. I'm thoroughly comfortable in the great outdoors and she should be happy with all weathers, big hills, long valleys, camping, hiking and generally being out in it.

She must be musical. Preferably she'd play an instrument or sing, but that's not a prerequisite as long as she has an interest in music of all varieties and will put up with my hip hop obsession. An enthusiasm for live music would be a bonus.

She should like her own space and want to maintain an active social life outside our relationship. I'll want time to myself and to see my friends on my own too and she must be completely at ease with that. I'll definitely want to spend plenty of time with her - let's face it, right now she sounds pretty fucking perfect - but we must be able to live apart as well as together.

She should be financially independent but willing to combine funds to run a household. I don't care who earns more; I'd happily be a kept man or stay-at-home dad, as it'd give me a chance to focus on the charity, but being financially open and the sharing of all income is a must. For example, if I earn more I'm happy to throw it all into the pot towards paying for everything, and I'd expect the same from a partner when it came to living together. I've never really understood couples who owe each other money or one pays the mortgage while the other pays the bills. It's a relationship, a partnership, and as decisions on major things should be shared, I also feel money should be too.

She should enjoy going out, meals, pubs, parties and the like, but also enjoy staying in and doing sweet nothing.

It's only been over the past couple of years that I've met women who enjoy computer games. I bloody love them and enjoy watching people play them or playing them together. This is a quality I find so attractive I'd place it quite high on the list were I asked to rank them. Being able to get around a computer and the internet would be nice too.

She's gotta have an open and active sense of humour. If she can make me laugh, bonus. If she can make me roll my eyes that's good too. She must be tolerant of the fact I can come out with some right shit sometimes.

She should be sexy, not just on the outside but fundamentally sexually aware and active. She must be affectionate and cuddly and loving, not afraid to talk about good feelings and bad, willing to share intimacy both physically and emotionally.

I quite like maternal women, not just those who look after their kids but who are motherly and caring in that way. Not that I want to be mothered really, but I do appreciate the positive aspects of a maternal nature.

I'd quite like someone with a bit of authority. I suppose that's confidence and self-assurance by another name, but I'm definitely attracted to a somewhat strong character. That doesn't mean I'll put up with being ordered about - something I'll cover if I do a 'things she shouldn't be' post - but it'd be nice to be with someone who's sure of themselves.

She should be happy to motivate me. I often need a kick in the arse to get myself doing something and she must be willing to give me a nudge in the right direction occasionally.

Last but by no means least, she has to be willing to accept my daughter. I'm not specifically looking for a mother figure because it's not a simple case of me being with someone and daughter accepting her in that way, but were things to work out like that it'd be wonderful. I think what I mean is that whoever I end up with should accept that I have a teenaged daughter and she's a big part of my life. Our relationship is close and I'd be ecstatic to open that up to the right person so long as she was willing to take it on. I don't know whether I want more kids really, the one I've got is incredible and we'd have to be so lucky to make another even half as brilliant, and I think I'm kind of past that phase of my life now. Despite it being pretty hypocritical I'm unsure as to whether I'd want to take on anyone else's children, depending on the quantity and whether they're balanced or not, although I'm open to suggestion about that too.

This has been a really interesting exercise. I'd never really encapsulated all these thoughts and desires and looking at them it's much more clear what I want. The fact remains that I'd be incredibly lucky to find someone with just a couple of these traits, it's nice to know what I'm looking for.

I was asked what my perfect woman would be like

a couple of weeks ago. I've always shied away from answering that question because I find attraction to be more complicated than a simple list of traits I like, however over the past few days I've found myself choosing things about women I see that I like. I think it'll be fun to sit here and babble out a bunch of characteristics I like, and I think it's likely to include a lot of things I don't like as well. I realise that many of the things I'm going to say will be based on stereotypes and the projection of inner thoughts but I won't excuse myself for that. I'll just imagine I'm sat at a computer choosing from the multiple variables humans have to offer.

Let's start with the outside. While I appreciate beauty in its many forms I've never been attracted to really beautiful women other than in a mostly sexual way. It'd be lovely to wake up next to a stunner every day and just be blown away by how beautiful they are, but I've often found personality penalties with great-looking girls. It's safe to say if I met a very pretty girl who had lots of other things going for her and was into me, who would I be to argue? I'm tip-toeing around saying something which I'm struggling to find the words for, but Mike Skinner said it so well: Yes, you are fit, but don't you just know it? Many gorgeous women have something about them which makes them aloof or over-confident, often at the expense of other personality traits and that's not something I find attractive so I tend to be drawn to unusually-attractive girls, unconventionally pretty instead of stunningly gorgeous.

I'm definitely attracted to brunettes and redheads. There's a perceived attitude attached to many blondes, especially those who choose to be blonde, that they're a bit dumb or will have more fun or whatever and I find that to be a bit of a turn-off. I'm over-analysing this, but I'm definitely more drawn to brunettes and when I spot a cute redhead I almost have to stop myself going up to them and wrapping them up in my arms.

I don't mind what length hair is as long as it's not very short. It can tickle my nose in my sleep or never get in the way, but it should be feminine.

Build. Hmmmm, this is a minefield. I'd happily choose someone who's my height or shorter than me, down to about five feet. She'd be anywhere between slightly skinny to a bit chubby; I certainly don't mind a bit of extra weight and I'd probably swing more toward slightly heavier than average if I had to narrow it down. I definitely prefer a small chest although I'm open to being convinced otherwise! I'd be happy with any figure from lanky to hour-glass although again, if pushed, hour-glass. A nice bum and some muscle on the legs would be great, please, and nice feet too. It feels weird going into such detail but I guess that's what I'm here for.

I don't really know how she should dress but as women seem to generally have an innate sense of style anyway I'm happy to leave that open, although I do like to see dresses in the summer and she must be able to carry-off a hat. I've no idea why, but hats are good.

Finally, confidence. I know this is tied to what's inside but it's definitely something I'd like to see on the outside. She must be confident in herself and her place the world around her.

Well, that was good. While none of these things should exclude someone without a particular trait, it's nice to define some of what I like. I think building a picture of her on the outside will be considerably easier than defining personality, which I'll do in the next post.

I've been getting a fair few compliments recently

- even saying that statement makes me cringe and internally berate myself for being big headed. I know that's the depression talking, the old me; this new, better me accepts compliments and uses them to firm-up its foundations instead of denying them entry and sending them back to their contributor. I used to be automatically coy and rejecting of people's positive comments because I never felt like they were true or I deserved them.

Since I got better, not only have I seen a marked increase in the amount of lovely comments coming my way but I've noticed I automatically let them in and take great pleasure from them. In the past three weeks alone I've had someone tell me I'm always happy and bubbly, another tell me someone else said the same thing to them. I've had three people say nice things about my writing which really gives me the warm and fuzzies. A couple of folks have complimented me directly, which is sincerely comforting. Finally, I've had quite a few really positive and motiving comments about the charity, the work I'm doing and the whole premise behind it, so much so that it feels I should be contributing much more time to the project. Even in the limited time it's been underway, I've had such wonderful metaphorical rewards that I can definitely see myself doing it full-time but as a charity it's not going to pay its way for a long time to come so I'll have to do it in my spare time for now. Even so, to have such rich rewards and have people complimenting the idea and my work is thoroughly satisfying and combined with a gentle stream of positive comments it's helping me feel pretty good about myself.

That people see fit to give me compliments at all suggests a huge improvement in my outward image and self-esteem over the past two years. I certainly feel much better than I have for probably fifteen years; maybe this is the best I've ever felt. If I've come so far back from the edge that people feel the urge to tell me good things they see in me, and I can let them in, isn't that just fantastic?

I'm aware I'm not just babbling but blowing my own trumpet pretty hard so I'll stop although as I've said before, if I can't big myself up and compliment myself on my own blog, where can I? I guess I just want to recognise and acknowledge how far I've come and the effect all my hard work is having on how people perceive me. It's just fantastic to see this nice person I've always known is inside me coming out to play.

I feel more than a bit sorry for myself today

which is a symptom of only a little too much alcohol and melancholy yesterday. I'd probably feel fine if I'd had a slice or two of toast instead of deciding a huge plate of nachos was a good idea half an hour before I was due to go to bed. My insides are ruined today and I keep burping Strongbow. Bleurgh. The unpalatable nature of my breath matches a few thoughts going around in my head today.

I watched JD's final episode of Scrubs yesterday and cried like a baby for the last five minutes. There was a scene where he fantasised a corridor lined with all the significant people he'd met, treated or interacted with during his time at the hospital. This really got me going and I started to feel pretty low.

It was a couple of weeks ago when I commented to my best friend: 'If I wanted to organise a night out with lots of people, who would I call?' We couldn't really think of more than a handful of friends. Since I got my enthusiasm for a social life back, my choice has been limited by a sheer lack of people I know to try and do things with. Most of the good people I know have moved on to bigger and better jobs, families and in some cases, countries. I can count on one hand the number of people I could call on for a night out.

It's only since my urge to socialise came back that I've realised how metaphorically isolated I feel in this town. The idea of going out to make new friends is pretty terrifying, almost as much as going out 'on the pull'. I know it's something I need to do though, because I'm sure I'll go a bit mad if I spend much more time in that room at home.

I hope to remedy this by attending a class or two. I've got my eye on an Introduction to Psychology course at the local council centre which has five sessions over five weeks. Not only will I get a basis for future psychological study and insight into my work with the charity but I might get to meet new people too. Once that's done I'll look for another course, maybe along the same lines or maybe something a bit different. Who knows? Whatever, I hope to switch my brain on and meet real people again. Once I get on confidence back I'll look for local groups I can get involved in. Reclaiming my social skills can only be a good thing.

I think this is tied in with another long-term problem which is a lack of intimacy, attention and affection from the opposite sex. I've not had a sniff in far too long and I'm really, really missing naked cuddles. While it hasn't hit me as abruptly as it usually does, my annual 'mating season' is definitely here and I'm catching myself eyeing-up every potential partner I see. I know this will all taper off again when autumn comes and I've dealt with it before, but combined with generally feeling lonely it seems like hard work this year.

I'm also somewhat afraid that I'm allergic to alcohol. I've been suffering with a really flaky scalp for a couple of years but it's been much worse for quite a while now. I'm just trying to remember if it got worse around the time I started getting hayfever. It's possible. Anyway, a few days ago I had a glass of cider and after a short while I started getting a runny nose and sneezing and itchy on my chest and back. I guess it's possible it was a reaction to something else I'd eaten or touched, or maybe even pollen. I don't know where this crazy self-diagnosis has come from other than I noticed last week when I had less alcohol my scalp was much better, and this week I've had more alcohol my scalp has been terrible. All this despite taking daily prescribed anti-histamines to suppress symptoms of hayfever. I guess I need to spend a week off the booze to confirm my suspicions, and I have another couple of months to wait for a dermatology appointment at the hospital. It might just be cider - please, if it's alcohol at all, let it just be cider! - in which case it won't be so bad, but I can't imagine a life without alcohol. I know that sounds bad but I don't believe I have the problem with booze I experienced when I was low despite recent evidence to the contrary, which I'm willing to accept as simple 'blips' on an otherwise positive record. But being forced to give up alcohol entirely due to my body's sudden decision to become allergic to all kinds of shit? No thanks.

What a thoroughly despondent post! This is just an opportunity to get some stuff out of my head and already I feel better. I have a walk with the charity client coming up on Thursday and some settled weather to enjoy, some time with daughter, hopefully a catch-up with friends and going out for a birthday celebration on Saturday night so there's plenty to look forward to. Who says I need a more active social life?