As February begins, those partaking in ‘Dry January’ reflect on the past month. One Engineering student spoke to The Whip about how they were left fit, proactive and horrifically sad.
“The month began well,” recalls John Sprigget. “My spots cleared, I lost weight and rather than spending most mornings nursing a hangover, I’d go for runs or catch up on my reading.
“But socially, it was horrendous. I’d get anxiety on Fridays, knowing sooner or later I’d be cooped up in the corner of a pub booth, having to endure the unrelenting shite chat that I once found hilarious.
“Without beer I felt totally out the loop, a sober bystander rather than a part of the group. It was like being left with the coats whilst all your mates go for a fag… but all the time.
“I just don’t feel the same without alcohol,” John wept. “My ex hasn’t heard from me in 4 weeks. Being pissed is the only time I have the balls to do all the stuff I want to when I’m sober.”
At this point all communication broke down. John’s radiant, spot free face cracked as the voluntary nature of the last month’s trauma dawned on him, and an obliging mate led the feeble figure into the pub for a nice, cold pint of sweet, delicious, golden, effervescent lager.