My name is SarahLily.
Hi SarahLily
I have a drinking problem.

Two of my closest friends have recently committed themselves to staying sober – very admirable. One is following a generally all-over healthy lifestyle: great diet, no smoking, no drinking, no drugs, no sex. The other…well, let’s just say there was an ‘incident’ (some beer was drunk, some shots were had, someone’s face was savagely bitten by said friend…you know how it goes) that triggered a decision to stop drinking.

Great. For them. It’s not a concept I’ll be entertaining anytime soon, I enjoy a swift after/before work/Uni/anything beverage far too much. However, from working on the wrong side of innumerable bars for far too long, I really appreciate how irritating, and occasionally disgusting, us vile student binge drinkers can be perceived by those sober. Bearing this in mind, I realised that toning it down would probably be the most dignified and self-respecting thing to do.


Sunday afternoon, I woke up in my bed (an achievement in itself) completely naked, with no memory of leaving the last club I could remember visiting. My 5month old puppy had made a nest in my hair, and as I, much to her dismay, began to untangle her, she gave me a judging glare.
Oh no…
Where are my pyjamas? Naked sleeping just isn’t how I roll…Where’s the friend I dragged out with me last night? I can’t stand suffering solo, hangovers are things to be shared with those you love. Throwing on some oversized nightwear, as though hoping to conceal myself within it’s folds, away from the Canine of Judgement, I hurried to my living room. A flood of relief poured through me, not unlike last night’s spiced rum, when I saw my friend snoozing (fully clothed, at least one of us got it right) peacefully on my sofa. Well, I still couldn’t remember anything post-3am, but at least I now knew neither one of us had died, which was good enough for me. When he eventually woke up, my friend and I curled up together on my sofa, pathetic, helpless, hopeless. Although, we did have some success on piecing together the few lost hours of my life –

1. My online banking history revealed I’d purchased more Tequila shots than was probably sensible (after a wild weekend of spontaneously journeying from Liverpool to Cardiff and unluckily discovering a fabulous Tequila bar, Salt, which consequently rendered me incapacitated for the following four days, I had realised Tequila to be my Mexican Kryptonite).

2. My front door had a big, black boot-print below the letterbox. My friend casually explained that this may have been caused from his attempt to break down my door, after I swore blindly that I’d lost my keys. Which I obviously hadn’t, they were safely inside my handbag, as they always are…

3. Mysterious stain in the hallway outside my apartment. Almost certainly from where I’d been sick, probably around the same time my door was being kicked to death. I still have no memory of this, and I think it’s absolutely for the best.

4. Strange smelling puppy. Yes. I was sick on the dog. I bathed her in baby shampoo and apologised for being alive.

Altogether, I concluded that somewhere down the line, I’d had one drink too many. Unlike many of my friends, I can usually handle what I drink, and am happy to stop waiting at the bar and stressing out my bank balance once I’m happily drunk enough to dance. Clearly, this particular Saturday night excursion did not play by these rules.

This week, I have been left unable to leave my bed. Struck down with a chest infection, I’ve been snuggled up with a hot water bottle, some foul tasting strepsils (that don’t come close to being effective, by the way), and probably a few too many Co-Dydramol pills. I haven’t even been able to make it to the place where dreams go to die, AKA Uni, and have been feeling altogether very sorry for myself. However, this does mean I will definitely be having an alcohol-free Halloween (which is a bit disappointing, as i’d recently purchased a particularly raunchy Robin (as in Batman’s mate) costume, complete with sparkly G-string). Not very exciting, but probably just what I need after recent events. I think the penny really dropped after my mum sneered mockingly, “Ooh, these tablets have got alcohol in, Sarah, so you can still get your fix without even leaving the house! ”

So, think of poor, poorly, sober me while you’re all getting full on Deidre-Barlowed this Halloween. And remember. Do not vomit on your dog.