Is it 'cause I is Irish?

Last Sunday morning as Disapproving Dad and I sat at the kitchen table nursing hangovers and two precious solpadine, I had a moment of reckless abandon.

'Shall we give up drink for the rest of September?' I asked.

Disapproving Dad looked at me, and with the seriousness that is normally reserved for a question more along the lines of 'So, are you ready to switch off your wife's life support machine?' nodded his head slowly.

And so began our 'dry run'.

To be honest the week that followed wasn't too testing. Whereas usually we would work our way through a couple of midweek reds we instead sipped peppermint tea and smiled smuggly at each other. Then Friday rolled around.

The first call came from my sister. 'Watcha doing tonight then? Shall I pop over with a bottle?' With immense dedication to the cause I explained that she was welcome  to come over but that we weren't drinking for the rest of the month. There was a significant pause before she spoke.

'Eugh. See you in October' she said, clearly disgusted, before hanging up on me.

A little later the phone rang again.

'It's just not the same' Disapproving Dad whined before I even had a chance to say hello. Once again my steely resolve held. 'No, no, no, no, no. We are not drinking tonight'.
He too hung up.

So Friday night came and went, if somewhat dull and boringly. But at least we had stuck to our plan. We woke up on Saturday morning refreshed and headache free. What a revelation! This is how it was going to be in future. Well done us!

As the day drew to a close and another long dreary evening stretched ahead I asked Disapproving Dad how he wanted his steak that night.

'Drenched in booze' he replied without looking up.

'O God, me too' I said. There was a 5 second pause.

'Red or white?' he asked as he grabbed his keys and headed for the door.