Section:GDN 1J PaGe:4 Edition Date:190801 Edition:01 Zone: Sent at 31/7/2019 18:38 cYanmaGentaYellowbla
- The Guardian Thursday 1 Aug ust 2019
4 Opinion
I
have given up alcohol for a month. That’s
nothing special. Thousands of people do
Dry July, or Feb Fast, or some random month.
But it is a big thing. I hadn’t had 30 days off
alcohol my entire adult life. The reason I
thought it was a good idea isn’t unique either.
It’s boringly familiar. I’m middle-aged and,
after drinking modestly for decades, it had
crept up. One glass of wine a night became two, and
then three and – no point in skirting around the facts
here – too often it was a bottle, sometimes more.
Occasionally, if I was particularly anxious, I’d buy a
bottle of wine during the day and drink the lot.
There’s shame in even writing that, but it’s true.
Over the past few years my husband and I had
countless discussions and a few raging arguments
about cutting back on alcohol, and we tried the
obligatory alcohol-free nights. In the jargon of the
online crowd experimenting with the previously
unthinkable, I was “sober-curious”.
One of my main worries was what on earth I
would do in the evenings. Drinking was what I “did”- preferably alone or watching some Netfl ix show or
off ering random opinions on Twitter.
Feeling slow or a little sad in the mornings was so
normal that I barely noticed it. Work was interesting
but I lacked ambition. I avoided people, not especially
enjoying everyday things such as going for a walk, or
Gay Alcorn
is Melbourne
editor for
Guardian
Australiaseeing a movie, or meeting friends for lunch. It took me a
few years to grasp it, but alcohol was controlling my life
to an extent that I was fi nding it gradually harder to hide,
even from myself. I had watched my father slide into the
slow suicide of the middle class, slumped drunk in front
of the television. I had contempt for him at the time – but
I was becoming him.
I often quoted Ernest Hemingway: “ I drink to make
other people more interesting .” But it wasn’t true. I drank
to pretend my life was more interesting , to escape from
everyday problems and because I enjoyed it. Or maybe
that’s self-justifying crap. Maybe it’s just that alcohol is
an addictive substance like all of those illicit drugs we
demonise. Over the years, I had become addicted.
So, now what? The problem with giving up alcohol
for a month is that it’s ridiculously, unexpectedly good.
I had entirely novel experiences. Like meeting friends
for a drink before the theatre and not drinking. Like not
drinking on a Friday night. Like going to a family lunch
and sipping mineral water. Like going to a book launch
and standing around for an hour without drinking the
warm, cheap white wine.
The month wasn’t entirely alcohol-free. I drank one
night, on 15 July. It was the day my healthy, vibrant,
full-of-life mother, out of the blue, was diagnosed with a
very serious illness. My fi rst thought was automatic – “I
need a drink” – and I drank a bottle of red wine, feeling
overwhelmed by sadness, trawling through the internet
to read up on the disease, and expecting the worst about
how my family would cope emotionally.
But what happened the next day was, for me,
astonishing. I had a slightly hungover thought: “Drinking
won’t help. It won’t help me, and it won’t help Mum.
Drinking will make things worse.” I had never had such a
thought before in my life.T
here is a sense of achievement in doing
something you weren’t quite sure you
could do, even something relatively
modest. But I wasn’t expecting the
scale of its impact. After two weeks
or so, I posted on my Facebook page:
“Have discovered (a bit of a surprise to
be honest) I am a better, kinder, more
present, more energetic, more productive, happier
person when I don’t drink. What a bummer!”
I was more mentally available for friends and
family, a better listener, less swift to judge. I was more
productive, and the stir of ambition returned. I ate
better, exercised more. I slept like a baby, no longer
waking up feeling foggy. I was a happier person.
As an over-researcher, I read countless articles and
several books on the subject. Alcohol is a toxic, addictive
substance that our body works hard to expel. That’s it.
I’m not preaching but it’s the truth, and we all kind of
know it. It’s so ubiquitous, so glamorised in popular
culture, so cleverly advertised, we’re in communal
denial – although that seems to be slowly changing.
It’s diffi cult to argue with the largest and most detailed
research into the global impact of alcohol, which found
that the idea that “moderate drinking” was harmless- or even benefi cial – was a myth (one that the alcohol
industry promotes relentlessly). The more you drink,
the worse the risks. But even occasional drinking is bad
for you. Alcohol causes several forms of cancer and
increases your risk of hypertension and cardiovascular
disease. Its role in provoking violence is undeniable.
The evidence is there, but still, what a downer. If I’m
honest, what I missed most is that feeling 30 minutes
or so after the fi rst drink. The feeling of bliss, when
problems fl oat away. I was indeed invincible, witty,
about to do brilliant things any moment.
Could that feeling, however brief, whatever the price,
be worth it? Part of me still thinks yes. Surely I can
reduce drinking and still get to feel that euphoria, that
numbing of incessant thoughts, that fading of inhibition.
But after one month, the benefi ts of sobriety
outweighed the benefi ts of alcohol, no matter how hard
I tried to spin it. While my husband looks forward to
Alcohol August, I am thinking of going another month
without booze. I can’t say I won’t drink again – the
thought is terrifying – but the ledger leans too far one
way to be ignored. Cheers to that.
O
h, Harry. It’s all a bit complicated,
isn’t it? From extracts released of
a Vogue interview you have done
with the great primatologist Jane
Goodall, you imply you plan to have
just one more child because of your
concerns about the environment.
Well, compared with your
parents and grandparents, that’s a good start. But
the planet is not responding well to your jet-setting
lifestyle, and two more little Sussexes adopting Dad
and Mum’s ways won’t help.
Yet you are right to link the fate of the planet
with human population increase. Many of the great
conservationists – like Goodall, David Attenborough,
and Chris Packham – recognise that the near tripling
of human numbers in the past 70 years, along with
the huge increase in the consumption of resources
by the wealthy, have been responsible for collapsing
ecosystems, the climate crisis and pollution.
So, of all the lifestyle choices you could make,
having one less child is by far the best option. Research
from Lund University in Sweden found that by
choosing to have one fewer child, a parent reduces
their CO 2 emissions by 58.6 tonnes a year during their
lifetime. That’s over 25 times more than from any other
action. Getting rid of the car, avoiding long-haul fl ights
and going vegetarian are all well and good , but these
actions, say the researchers, save very small amounts
of CO 2 in comparison.
And, Harry, you are no ordinary parent. In ecological
terms the royal family is a herd of elephants trashing
the forest. You are only 34, and you are probably
responsible for more emissions of CO 2 and other
greenhouse gas than most of the 1 8 million people
living in Malawi will do in their lifetimes.
But it’s good that you spoke to Goodall, because
few people want to admit the inconvenient truth that
population is a primary driver of global ecological
crisis. Most political parties and environment groups
are afraid to talk about it because it smacks of prejudice
against countries with higher birth rates. How much
easier to blame all biodiversity loss and climate change
on the rich for their profl igate lifestyles.
Consumption matters, of course, but so do sheer
numbers. Global population – currently at 7.5 billion- is growing by 82 million a year and is likely to reach
11 billion within the lifetime of Prince Harry’s children.
Sustaining another 3.5 billion people, or an extra India
and China, will inevitably impact on climate, oceans
and forests, and deplete natural resources. However,
population growth, resource consumption and
environmental impact are closely linked, and there is
little chance that the climate crisis can be turned round
unless they are addressed together.
As Attenborough says : “ Either we limit our
population growth, or the natural world will do it for
us. The natural world is doing it for us right now.”
Gay
Alcorn
John
Vidal
I took a break
from booze, but
didn’t expect to
be transformed
Having kids
is bad for the
planet. So are
the royal jets
PHOTOGRAPH: ZORAN MIRCETIC/GETTY IMAGESРЕЛИЗ ПОДГОТОВИЛА ГРУППА "What's News" VK.COM/WSNWS