My mother says that if you open some wine and find you can't just drink one glass but have to finish the bottle, then it's a sign that something is wrong. We were in Portugal when she said it the first time, but she has intoned it, like a mantra, several times since. She and I were the only ones drinking wine on holiday, as it happened. Mostly, I was drinking wine on my own.
My sister, who annoyingly still manages to look sexy in a Tommy Hilfiger bikini despite being six months pregnant, had a decent enough excuse, I suppose. My brother-in-law, in training for a cycling race, stuck to a few beers. My boyfriend was the picture of sobriety, earning himself the nickname "half-a-beer Jonny", because we kept finding half-full bottles around the place.
In this abstemious climate it was up to me to take full advantage of all the excellent-value whites I kept discovering. The wine did wonders for my Scrabble. When you work with words everyone expects you to be some kind of genius at the game, but in the past I've found that's not the case. In Portugal, however, I was like the woman with the magic pen in dictionary corner on Countdown, except with a full glass in front of me at all times. Ponder. Sip. Ponder. Sip. Bam! 52 points, thank you very much. (Sip. Sip. Sip.)
If you open a bottle of wine and find you can't just have one glass, I don't see what the big deal is. I am pretty outgoing, and I like social occasions, but lately I've noticed a bit of liquid lubrication can make it much easier to relax in the company of strangers.
At a recent charity fashion show for Enable Ireland, I was up and down to the wine table all night. I wasn't just getting drinks for me, of course. But after a while the women I was chatting to clamped their hands over their glasses in the universal symbol for "none for me, thanks" while I still found I had room for more. When I got home I realised that after the show had ended I hadn't said goodbye to anyone. I'd just ambled off into the night. And it niggled for a few days.
With all those weather-inspired social occasions, you'd be mad not to have a chilled glass or three of Sançerre, Pinot Grigio or whatever you are having yourself. At a World Cup barbeque in Co Wicklow, all the blokes were inside, watching England, so for once a woman was allowed to take over the grill. Between tossing burgers and sausages I found myself nipping inside to fill my glass, and by the time the match was over I'd managed a whole bottle. There was just time for a quick glass of cider to toast England's victory over Paraguay before half-a-beer Jonny drove me home.
I continued drinking at a delightful 50th birthday party that night, where I met a lovely couple in their 60s, whom I chatted to for half the evening. I had started on white but graduated to red, and I left the party reasonably early, because I was working the next morning. I woke up wishing I hadn't drunk quite so much and promising I wouldn't do so again for a while. Still, wine has 600 grapes to a bottle, which is healthy, right? And Sideways is a fantastic movie.
For lunch that day I went to Eddie Rocket's, because nothing would ease my hungover state except a burger, and maybe some garlic fries. The front page of one of the papers caught my eye, even though my sight was still a little bit fuzzy: experts at the Rutland centre for addiction, in Dublin, are concerned at the number of Irish women who are developing alcohol problems. Fifty per cent of patients at the centre are female, up from 30 per cent in previous years.
And while heavy-drinking women used to favour vodka, they're just as likely to drink wine now. Wine with dinner at first, then wine on its own - and before you know it you are on to a bottle a day. Apparently, it's women in their 30s and 40s who are starting to drink more heavily than before. It's not the age profile we tend to highlight when we get hot and bothered about binge drinking. It's easier sometimes to look at teenagers than at ourselves.
The article reminded me that, back in Portugal, my Scrabble game, although enhanced after a couple of glasses, started to slow down after a full bottle. But if I could just make a word using all seven letters, which Scrabble fans will know gives you an extra 50 points, then I would beat half-a-beer Jonny, who was looking very smug with his record score.
I was determined to find the magic word, and it might have taken an hour, but I did. "Abstains." I swear. In vino veritas.
