I took the pledge for the first time when I made my Confirmation. I took it a second time when I was taken advantage of one Saturday morning outside the Legion of Mary offices on Parnell Square in Dublin, suffering as I was from a terrible hangover.
I broke my pledge twice.
I first fell by the wayside as a teenager, literally. I remember not feeling very well as I staggered along the Doneraile walk in a sea breeze, after a GAA dinner dance in Tramore, assisted by some of my team-mates who were not in much better shape.
I sloped back to a neighbour’s house where I babysat occasionally but I was soon rumbled and had to return home to face the music and hear my dad tell me that I smelled like a brewery and to go to bed.
READ MORE
Did I learn my lesson? Sort of, but I do recall that when I turned 18, some of us got in the habit of going down to the Seaview bar where we could order minerals and top them up from a bottle of vodka kept under the table.
Later, in the year that I repeated the Leaving Cert, I can remember that my father would give me £1 on a Friday, and the price of a large bottle of stout was 25p, so do the math.
As a student in Dublin, I enjoyed imbibing in such establishments as the Yacht and the Sheds on the Clontarf Road, Harry Byrne’s on the Howth Road, Humphreys in Ranelagh, Slattery’s in Rathmines and I only began to take a more jaundiced view of this drinking life when I worked as a barman to support my studies.
In the old Lawrence Hotel in Howth, we closed at the normal time on weekend nights only to open again at midnight for the disco crowd, and we did so with some trepidation.
Tailor’s Hall in Christchurch was my favourite bar space. I loved the singers’ club in the basement on Tuesdays run by the late Phil Callery of the Voice Squad. Sadly the club moved elsewhere because the manager refused to ban use of the noisy old cash register when ciúnas was required for Frank Harte, Liam Weldon, Eilish Moore or some other luminary whose voice would light up the stygian gloom of the basement bar.
All good things come to an end. I moved on to an establishment in Summerhill where the only time there was silence in the pub was when Garda Patrol came on. We were robbed once by someone who did security there sometimes; his mask, the money and wooden firearm were found under his bed.
My bar life took on a new dimension when I joined the ranks of the old Irish Press newsroom where every shift seemed to require a postmortem in the annex known as Mulligans.
It was out of Mulligans that the great news editor and master of forbearance, the late Paul Muldowney, fielded a phone call from a reporter who wanted to let him know that he was “psychologically unfit” to return to work. Paul agreed with him.
A few years into this existence, I decided to get away from it all for a year and volunteered for Goal in Sudan which I was led to believe was alcohol-free.
Sharia law was not a bad idea; it was just poorly implemented. Home delivery of Ethiopian brandy and gin was never much of a problem and there was a group of beer enthusiasts known as the KGB, the Khartoum Guild of Brewers, whose wares were potable.
Why all this remembrance of drinks past? It’s to remind me and you, that the road to an alcohol-free lifestyle is paved with temptations that can often overcome good intentions. Great vigilance is required to reach the end of dry January, or to push on into spring.
Trust your instincts and know that one must always be on guard against the begrudgers. Those who will accuse you of being no craic, wonder if you have a terminal illness, or ask, full of concern, if you’re giving it up for good.
Elsewhere in the online pages of this excellent organ, Conor Pope has done a great job of highlighting the benefits of giving up the demon drink entirely.
He gave it up three years ago and I gave it up two years ago. The longer you go without, the easier it gets. It brings peace of mind, better sleep, better relationships, weight loss and time to think about what else can you give up.
I am not entirely free of compulsion. Bread-free January is not going so well but at least I don’t have the drink to fall back on.
