Have we finally accepted that Dry January is a con? A myth we’ve been sold that January 1 is the date in which we shall awake reborn with unshakable willpower and infallible conviction to be better at everything. Thinner, teetotal, cleverer, kinder, more eco-friendly with a new 6am meditation routine and bedtime journalling habit. It’s a fallacy which makes us doomed to fail and in turn filled with more self loathing than before.
I’ve never been one for setting super-specific goals, preferring instead to aim for vague broad strokes that allow me to remain blissfully unaccountable. Best to not get into debt, try not to mess up at work, cut back on eating peanut butter from the jar — that sort of thing. This year I will confess, a recent bout of anxiety and existential crisis prompted me to purchase a “wellness journal”. The sort that provides you with daily affirmations (“you are a human woman and that is enough”) and reminds you to do things that allow you to exist like breathe and drink water. But I ordered it too late and it won’t arrive until late-January, by which time I’ll be in full breakdown mode and there’ll be no saving me.
Of all the things we put ourselves through in the New Year, Dry January in particular has never appealed — though I am certainly someone who drinks far too much and is a quivering dried husk of a person post-Christmas. Sober self-flagellation, for me, seems an intolerable and rather futile penance in an already torrid month — and more and more experts now agree that there is little point going teetotal for 31 days only to resume old habits with vigour for the rest of the year.
Welcome then to Damp January. The concept (basically cutting back and drinking more mindfully) has been growing in the last few years with thousands of mentions on social media this week. The cynic in me says it’s yet another buzzword to wave around on social media to sugarcoat the fact many of us have an unhealthy relationship with booze (myself included) and don’t know how to address it. The endless grind and relentless worry of the pandemic spurred a national drinking problem with eight million people said to be drinking seriously harmful amounts of alcohol.
The thinking behind Damp January seems sound. Drinking less, in a more considered way, could re-frame one’s relationship to alcohol more effectively than the agony of suddenly going cold turkey. It worked for Kate Moss, right. Getting used to ordering a single gin instead of a double, perhaps, or just drinking half a bottle of Chablis on a Friday night rather than the whole thing. It actually sounds OK. Doable. Enjoyable?
In our wonderful city, it’s never been easier to cut back. We have new booze-free restaurants, a no-alcohol off-licence and there are delicious low-alcohol alternatives available everywhere. There are apps, books and podcasts to inspire and motivate, too. It’s not a quick fix, but worth a shot. Or not. It’s up to you.
See you at the Berghain! Jokes, I’m not cool enough to get in there. But for those who are, a London-to-Berlin sleeper train has just been announced.
Launching in May this year, the night train will set off from St Pancras with seats as cheap as €49, posh sleeper compartments at €109 and breakfast included.
It will whiz party people and chic city breakers to Berlin Hauptbahnhof in less than 16 hours.
Let’s hear it for rail news that doesn’t involve the words “strike” and “Mick Lynch”. Tickets go on sale on February 20 and if my WhatsApp groups are anything to go by, getting a ticket will require strategic planning a la Glastonbury.
Set your alarms. It’s just the beginning of accessible rail travel from here to Europe with more routes to be announced this year. I can’t wait.
