Just a spoonful of syrah helps the medicine go down...

So I got to chat to the doc, liver specialist Dr Jonathan Mitchell, live on air this morning. He told me I drink too much, and he told me that I was technically a binge drinker.
It's always a bit of an eye-opener, not least coming from a consultant hepatologist. However, I wasn't really surprised.
It's all very well having these limits, but they're a bit arbitrary. One size does not fit all, as far as the human body is concerned... and, as you all know, the actress said to the bishop. And actually Dr Jon said that the important thing was to make sure that if you have had one over the eight (units, not pints, clearly) that you take a day or two off to give your liver a rest.
He also said that it was sound advice to take everything in moderation.
As I said on the show, I am probably not going to reduce the amount I drink. I am comfortable with it and actually enjoy the odd 'binge', as the medics term it.
But what I will make more of an effort to do is to give my liver some recovery time. So it's out with hair of the dog and in with cold turkey - not so terribly difficult...

So that was the week that was

So it's over. I haven't seen the others' diaries yet, but Matt emailed me last night and I have to say that, compared to him, I look like a right old soak. But I am unbowed and unapologetic: I feel that my life is balanced the way I want to be and I really enjoy myself.
I have little doubt that our liver doctor is going to tell me that I should try not to drink so much in one sitting.
But then again so many activities in our lives carry inherent risks. I've done several bungee jumps which no doubt increase my risk of all manner of things from detached retinas to cracking my head on a hard surface; I've driven sports cars at approaching 200mph - never something the docs recommend; I used to be a keen scuba diver when I lived in more temperate climes, and of course that increased my risks of getting the bends and, I guess, of dying. But those, to my mind - and actually that is what really counts to me - are risks that were well worth it for the experiences I enjoyed.
So on Friday night I went down to the Cornwall for a concert. My wife and I met friends in the bar and I had a pint of Carlsberg. We then went through to dinner and I enjoyed a glass of wine with my starter and main course. With our puds we had a cheeky glass of dessert wine. And then it was into the car (our nominated driver behind the wheel of course) and off to the Eden project.
When we arrived I got a pint of Beck's, and then it seemed churlish to decline the offer of a toffee vodka shot from the people walking around the crowd selling it. All in all a capital night.
Talking of a balanced life, though, I managed to drag myself from my bed at 7.30 the following morning and went out for a four-mile run along the river before breakfast... That's the trade-off as far as I'm concerned.
We spent most of the day in Cornwall before dropping into my mother's house for supper on our way home. And I drank a couple of glasses of red wine there. Poor old mother, she's a big fan of Radio Devon and was worried that I would look bad if I was honest about my drinking this week... So sorry, Mum, if your Radio Devon Fan Club pals think I'm a lush!
And Sunday night - well I only occasionally drink anything between Sunday and Wednesday, so it was soft drinks for me all day.
So now it's all over and I can go back to my usual two bottles of Scotch a night (only joking...)
Has it been useful? Well I don't think I've really learned much about myself - in a former life I was a health correspondent and so was pretty clued up about units etc. I do exceed them from time to time, but I feel that at least I do so in an informed and, ultimately, a calculated way.
I have, however, decided to officially retire from bungee jumping.
It's a useless sport - I can never do it without spilling my pint.

The winner drinks it all

I'm in the lead, and confident of winning the Radio Devon boozing contest.
But frankly, there's not much by way of competition.
I had hoped we might have a few real drinkers in our midst. Watching the TV news you expect everybody in Devon who is under 30 to be overweight, dressed in a dress that's far too small (that's just the blokes), and spending their time either rolling around the wide gutters of Union Street or being arrested for clocking some random love-rival for staring at their pint...
But the way things are sounding so far, I'll be lucky not to be admitted for an immediate liver transplant the second the drinking diary is over.
Sad really, because lots and lots of people I know drink pretty much like me.
The drink diaries seem to have gone from being a feature to show us just how
insidious boozing can be to being a drinks diet on which everyone shows just how
healthy they are. I must say I find it really hard to believe that Jess is
drinking more as a result, as she claimed on air this morning. Come on...
When I went out on my fairly normal night out on Wednesday - the booze marathon as legend would now popularly have it - there was a woman in our number. And I don't think she really drank much less than me. Nor do I think that is so unusual.
So why are those people taking part drinking less?
Well I guess it is entirely possible that they just don't drink much. As I said on the show this morning, Jess and Matt both start work at 4.30am. I wouldn't have had a big night out if I had to get up so early and, perhaps just as importantly, nor would I have driven myself to work so early the next morning.
But also, let's face it, there is a stigma to being perceived as a boozer. Every one of us has a job that is to some degree in the public eye. We have images to maintain, and nobody wants to be labelled a lush.
Maybe next time there should be a few anonymous 'controls'. People who don't give their identity but keep diaries anyway. It would seem likely that their might be a more accurate picture of the situation...
Oh yes. Santé and all that.

Raising a few glasses... and Jess's eyebrows

I have to confess to having been slightly fuzzy-headed when Radio Devon rang me at 7.45am today for my weekly round-up of news from the North Devon Journal...
Last night I took out the sports team to mark the fact that our sports editor, Chris Rogers, is leaving us for pastures new.
We went to The Boathouse, at Instow, and got there at about half-seven... and then the drinking began. We congregated in the bar as we waited for everybody to arrive, and chatted for a while, and pint No 1 of Doom Bar, which I believe is 4%, soon turned into pint No 2...
Through in the restaurant we ordered our meals and some wine... and over three courses and the next couple of hours I made my way through the best part of a bottle of Muscadet, 12%...
It's a really strange feeling to be scrutinising every drop that passes my lips - never before have I considered the alcohol content of the wine I'm drinking, nor have I looked on the side of a wine glass to see the exact amount I'm imbibing.
But it doesn't end there. I feel embarrassed to admit that we then had coffee and a short - I went for a brandy... and then we sat and chatted more and, sorry liver, we had a second brandy. And I even went and found out the measure of the drinks - they were 35ml.
So in one night I had two pints@ 4%, 660ml of wine at 12% and 70ml of brandy at, I guess, 40%.
All this was over a period of about four hours, and with a very substantial meal, and everybody - except the one person in our midst who was driving, had about the same...
So what about everybody else who is doing this drink diary malarkey? It would seem that last night I drank more than the entire BBC Radio Devon Massive has managed all week. I've been accused of taking after my dear departed footballing uncle, George, by Marc Astley, the editor of the Express & Echo. I notice that on his blog, www.thisisexeter.co.uk/cheers he has made loads of very witty observations about us all, but has not said what he's actually drunk... So let's be having it Marc. Boozer Best he's called me, but we know not whether he's Absinthe Astley or his slightly more effete cousin Advocat
Are my fellow diarists not drinking much because everybody can see? I don't know.
I also told a lie on the radio this morning, saying that I was planning a quiet weekend. The cotton wool in my head made me forgot we've actually got tickets for a concert at the Eden Project tomorrow night, and are staying in a hotel... And while I would often be driving for these types of evenings, my wife is currently expecting a child so she tends to do the honours. So it ain't going to be a teetotal time...

Ho hum. And er Vashi. That's Baluchi, apparently... And who said this boozing lark isn't educational?

And he's off...

I enjoyed a very fine pint of Barum Brewery real ale last night, down at Barnstaple Town FC where they were playing Chertsey Town. Anybody who knows me will know that I wasn't there for the football. Nothing personal BTFC, but I haven't set foot inside a football ground for 20 years... Claims I was only there for the beer will be strenuously denied, as my story is that I was invited to support North Devon Hospice as it unveiled some new sponsorship deals courtesy of Bray Leino and Brend Hotels.
But sadly, living in the sticks as I do, I had to drive home and so was restricted to just the one. I reckon it was Barum Original, at 4.4%.
Then I went home and, it being a school night, didn't drink any more.
Tonight however will be a different story. Tomorrow will be the last day at the Journal for Chris Rogers, the sports editor, so tonight I'm taking out a gang from the office to the Boathouse in Appledore. And I will be taking a taxi home. So look out liver, it's time to start earning your keep...
I may log on when I get home.
I may be feeling tired and emotional...
Let's see.
Prost!

Nothing to declare

Well Monday has come and gone in North Devon and I've nothing to declare.

Lunch consisted of a salad and a piece of chicken eaten quickly in the rest area at work, following a lunchtime shopping expedition, so no temptation there.

We had a friend over to stay the night and offered her a glass of wine, but she wasn't interested so in the end none of us bothered.

Having a guest would often provide me with enough reason to have a drink during the week, only to be sociable you understand... But there's something about a Monday night -namely that it's awfully early in the week to start boozing.

Until tomorrow...

Salud!

Learning to liver little...

Blimey. Opening up my drinking habits for the world to see. What will I discover? And what will other people think of it? Will the circulation of the Journal go into freefall when my teetotal readers discover I have been known to enjoy the odd glass or three? Or will publicans stop having the paper on their premises when they realise that I, like so much of the population, drink more often at home than I do out? Mind you, if either of these prove to be the case there should be a circulation spike once the French wine industry realises how much I do to personally ensure they are doing good business in the UK...

'Am I a hazardous drinker?' is the question this whole exercise sets out to answer. I think that probably I am not. I am confident that if I averaged out my alcohol consumption over a period of time I would come in with a weekly average within the guidelines we're given by the government.

But I don't drink every day. I drink on maybe two or three days a week and, if I'm having a good time with my friends or family, I most certainly don't stop to count my units. There occasionally comes a point when I can't count, full stop. So I am fairly sure that I go over what is probably advisable, according to some doctors at least. Other doctors don't seem too concerned themselves, particularly those who are drinking with me at the time...

And am I bothered? Actually no. I feel like my life is pretty balanced. I eat healthily, exercise regularly and enjoy my drinking. I could eat and drink less, and of course exercise more. But I have a busy job and a busy family life, so I, like everyody I know, makes small compromises all the time.

Let's face it if I was independently wealthy I would probably work less and spend more time playing tennis or swimming. Mind you I would be able to afford Chateau Latour on a regular basis, so it would bring its own problems... I suspect that if I suddently stopped having to work for a living I would be less likely to become a honed, bronzed athletic type than I would North Devon's answer to the Great Gatsby. Throwing a party has to be preferable to going to the gym, every time...

So if anybody fancies joining me on my diary, leave a comment. There is, after all, safety in numbers. I'll be checking in on Monday to let you know my consumption...

Cheers!