Drinking Part 1
The home I grew up in didn't have a lot of alcohol. There was sometimes shandy in the fridge, and later there was one bottle of red wine which must have been brought as a gift by someone who had come to dinner. It lolled around in the drinks fridge for many years, never realising its life's purpose of being consumed. Oh yes, there was also sometimes stout but that was bought only when my grandaunt's husband visited us, and he was the only person who drank it.
In the year I was 10, we went on holiday to New York to visit my aunt and her husband who had been posted there for a few years. One of the days when we were in her flat, my grandfather asked me to pour him some beer. First time pouring it, carefully ensuring none of it spills, pour it into a glass as you would with Coke or other fizzy drinks. Who knew that the contents of one can wouldn't fit into one glass because of the couple of inches of foam on the top now. Result: grandfather highlighted my incompetence then showed me the correct way to pour beer, and to this day I reflexively tilt any glass regardless of what I might be pouring into it.
I was a rule-fearing cautious kid from a rather conservative family. I wasn't interested in relationships because I had always been told "You need to finish university before you have a boyfriend." I was also told "You cannot work part-time during the holidays because then you will lose interest in studying." It was a blend of "We are not poor so you don't have to work during the holidays" with "We are not rich so you have to do well enough to go to the local university because we can't afford to send you overseas".
Around 15 years old was when I first had alcohol. It was Harveys Bristol Cream sherry, and we stole sips of it from its blue glass bottle in my friend's mother's kitchen. It felt very grown-up to be tasting it, coupled with the clandestine fun of doing something you were not legally allowed to. It made me feel relaxed, but cannot remember whether I felt any high. I suppose I may not have drunk enough to produce any physical sensation. And the thrill of an "achievement unlocked" could have accounted for any Dutch courage I may have displayed.
In JC my friends and I started trying to buy and drink alcohol in bars and other establishments. I usually managed to get served unless they checked our IDs, which really sucked because my birthday is at the end of the year, so I'd end up with a soft drink while my buddies who were already 18 enjoyed their drinky-poos.
I do remember one weekend we had booked a chalet by the beach. This was after the final exams. Someone had brought a bottle of Smirnoff Red. Hey, we were young and didn't yet know that no one drinks that stuff. So some of us drank some of it. I do not recall whether anyone got drunk. But it did make me feel sufficiently uninhibited to go cuddle the boy I fancied. No, nothing happened, there were about 10 of us staying overnight in the one room.
I think that was probably during the phase I went through of not wanting to be drunk because everyone knew how alcohol made you do and say things you later regret. I had a very high wall built up around me, and I was afraid that alcohol would dissolve that wall, and my secrets would spill out. So I had a love-hate relationship with alcohol. I was very curious, but I approached it with caution; always wondering what my limits were, but never testing them.
In the year I was 10, we went on holiday to New York to visit my aunt and her husband who had been posted there for a few years. One of the days when we were in her flat, my grandfather asked me to pour him some beer. First time pouring it, carefully ensuring none of it spills, pour it into a glass as you would with Coke or other fizzy drinks. Who knew that the contents of one can wouldn't fit into one glass because of the couple of inches of foam on the top now. Result: grandfather highlighted my incompetence then showed me the correct way to pour beer, and to this day I reflexively tilt any glass regardless of what I might be pouring into it.
I was a rule-fearing cautious kid from a rather conservative family. I wasn't interested in relationships because I had always been told "You need to finish university before you have a boyfriend." I was also told "You cannot work part-time during the holidays because then you will lose interest in studying." It was a blend of "We are not poor so you don't have to work during the holidays" with "We are not rich so you have to do well enough to go to the local university because we can't afford to send you overseas".
Around 15 years old was when I first had alcohol. It was Harveys Bristol Cream sherry, and we stole sips of it from its blue glass bottle in my friend's mother's kitchen. It felt very grown-up to be tasting it, coupled with the clandestine fun of doing something you were not legally allowed to. It made me feel relaxed, but cannot remember whether I felt any high. I suppose I may not have drunk enough to produce any physical sensation. And the thrill of an "achievement unlocked" could have accounted for any Dutch courage I may have displayed.
In JC my friends and I started trying to buy and drink alcohol in bars and other establishments. I usually managed to get served unless they checked our IDs, which really sucked because my birthday is at the end of the year, so I'd end up with a soft drink while my buddies who were already 18 enjoyed their drinky-poos.
I do remember one weekend we had booked a chalet by the beach. This was after the final exams. Someone had brought a bottle of Smirnoff Red. Hey, we were young and didn't yet know that no one drinks that stuff. So some of us drank some of it. I do not recall whether anyone got drunk. But it did make me feel sufficiently uninhibited to go cuddle the boy I fancied. No, nothing happened, there were about 10 of us staying overnight in the one room.
I think that was probably during the phase I went through of not wanting to be drunk because everyone knew how alcohol made you do and say things you later regret. I had a very high wall built up around me, and I was afraid that alcohol would dissolve that wall, and my secrets would spill out. So I had a love-hate relationship with alcohol. I was very curious, but I approached it with caution; always wondering what my limits were, but never testing them.