It's not always easy being teetotal in a world where alcohol is the social glue to all events, from births to funerals and just about every occasion in between. The younger, less confident me would cling to a glass of tonic water, trying to fool my peers that it had a big slosh of gin in it. Now, I just fess up.

Another Love

Another Love

I have lost count of the times that a well-oiled acquaintance or relative has cornered me with tie askew and said, 'don't be boring! Have a drink!' or worse, when people cross me off invite lists before I have the chance to prove I can be fun, sober.

So why don't I just pop a cork and join in? The answer is twofold. Firstly, I have a ridiculously low tolerance to alcohol, one glass and I am sozzled. It has always been this way. And no, practise did not improve my skill. It's almost like an allergy. I can legally drive after two small glasses of wine, but after one, can barely identify my car nor manage to hold the key. This extreme 'light-weightedness' as it has been referred means that after a very small amount of alcohol I would find it hard to keep myself safe. I couldn't run, use my phone, shout for help or stand and frankly that terrifies me.

Secondly, some people can take one square of chocolate and put the remainder back in the cupboard, not me. I'm an all or nothing kind of gal. It's the same for hobbies or anything else I become interested in, I am obsessive and addictive with two settings, full tilt and off. Now, when this means scoffing a whole packet of Hob Nobs or watching over a hundred hours of Homeland in succession, that's one thing, but what about when that addictive nature encounters alcohol? That's a whole other story.

I am not anti-booze. I keep a well-stocked drinks fridge and when friends arrive I happily uncork a bottle. I vacuum around my sons when they have over indulged, heck, I've even cleared out my freezer so they could conduct jelly and vodka experiments on a semi-industrial scale. But for me, I know that it wouldn't be one odd glass, one celebratory sip. If I didn't pass out, it would be one whole bottle, followed by another...

When researching my book, Another Love, I spoke to women who were alcoholics and to hear them describe the need for their drug of choice, was heart wrenching. I recognised the tone of their language, understood how it felt to make the jump, between want and need. Some had lost their careers, homes, even their families to this horrible disease and it's on the rise among career women. The traditional image of the drunk, sipping from a brown paper bag on a bench is no longer valid, you are just as likely to be sitting next to an alcoholic at work, on the train, or at a dinner party, where a woman sits quietly, taking stick because she is choosing not to drink.