Why I've decided to give up the booze for Dry January

Depending on who you listen to, it appears I do drink far too much.

If you tend to take your advice from Big Dave propping up the bar by the fruit machine then I've got time for one more.

But if you like your wisdom served with a splash of scientific fact then it's time to cut down. A lot.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who would think nothing of ending the day with a drink or two to take the edge off and relax; putting work, the kids, the chores, the bills and Piers Morgan's tweets to the back of my mind for a few blessed moments.

I'm positive I'm not the only one who thinks this is perfectly within the boundaries of sensible, moderate drinking, even with a few more over the weekend for good measure.

I'm definitely not the only one who'll be shocked to discover that's not the case.

Yup, according to NHS advice an adult should drink no more than 14 units a week.

But, now here's the thing, a unit doesn't equate to a pint or a large glass of wine.

A pint of strong lager/cider/beer can contain up to three units, an average-strength lager equalling two. There's also three units in a large glass of wine, 1.5 in an average alcopop and 1.4 in a 35ml shot of your favourite spirit.

Drink more than five Peronis or one-and-a-half bottles of cabby sauv (not my phrase) then you've hit your seven-day limit for healthy drinking.

You probably knocked back more at your Christmas party, possibly even necked that much at home before heading out to meet friends this week.

A quick tot up and I've realised I've probably gone over my allocated 14 units most weeks since for as long as I could legally drink.

Because cancers, strokes, liver diseases, heart diseases and brain damage aren't on my 2023 bucket list I've decided to lay off the plonk for the next 31 days and take part in Dry January, the Alcohol Change UK challenge which calls on you to quit all booze for the first month of the year, in the hope I can quit or learn to enjoy life with a little more moderation.

But how easy is it to keep a lid on your boozing in a country where knocking a couple back is as much of the culture as fish and chips, Eastenders and temporary traffic lights?

This is a nation where alcohol is embedded in our culture, where football shirts, sporting events and music festivals have been sponsored by drinks companies, where we get free bars at weddings and where terms such as 'lightweight' are used to mock people who don't want to drink too much or who can't handle it when they do.

And on the rare occasions where we can escape this booze-fuelled island we don't detox do we? No, we book ourselves on all-inclusive holidays and kickstart them with a pint at Gatwick. At 3am.

Drinking's always been part of my life, ingrained in the psyche if you will.

I hit my legal-drinking years at the height of Cool Britannia, when guys off their nut who proclaimed they were 'mad for it' were invited to receptions at Downing Street, when lad and ladette culture was fuelled by tasty, easily drinkable Apple Hooch and Smirnoff Ice and Johnny Vegas would appear on comedy panel shows accompanied by a glass of Guinness which would swiftly empty, be replenished and empty again.

Going to the pub was my generation,s TikTok, and not just because it was the go-to place to watch people dance like idiots. Now these kids have grown up to become the business brains who normalise drinking even more.

I can get 18 cans of lager for just a tenner using a supermarket loyalty card. For a monthly subscription I can have exciting new ales from around the world delivered to my own doorstep. You probably know of someone who counted down to Christmas with a watermelon and chine-flavoured craft beer or a gin with hints of Nutella and peach advent calender - it's not as if these people don't remind you every day with another Facebook post.

To help me get ready for four weeks of sobriety I've been checking out a couple of books.

The first is Adrian Chiles' The Good Drinker - two parts memoir, two parts scary science and one part helpful tips - which I've been consuming via audiobook as I drive to and from work.

The other is Stop Drinking Now by Allen Carr. This self-help book kindly tells me I can have a drink or two as I digest the words, and for that reason I've avoided it on the commute.

But that's it for me. From today (January 1) I'm off the grog for a month. At least that's the hope.