So…completing Dry January was a doddle. And then, normal service resumed and I realised just how god-awful I feel after a night on the beers.

Not ‘waking up in a skip’ or ‘I’ve lost all my belongings’ or ‘waking up with a mystery tattoo’ awful, but just exhausted and wiped out. So basically, the answer is relatively straightforward: I’ll do ‘Dry February’. And quite possibly ‘Dry March’ too.

Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s boredom with beers…but it’s time for a change. All it took was a brief perusal of the calories in one of my favourite beers to break my heart. It amounted to more than the 30 minutes I’d just spent working out. Just a single beer?!

So if I’m going to continue my focus on moving more and shedding this post-COVID lard, then why in the name of everything that is holy would I sabotage my own good work by inhaling liquid calories every weekend? It just doesn’t make sense.

Sleep is precious enough for this chronic insomniac. Do I really want to shred my REM sleep with alcohol when I could be safely ensconced in dreamland? Not really.

There really are no objective plusses to drinking alcohol. To channel my favourite Vulcan, to continue doing so would be “deeply illogical”.