Bring me laughter...

I was trying to think of when I last experienced uncontrollable laughter. It was a long time ago. I think it was in Berlin, in a restaurant called Vau. I was there with my photographer, Rob, and a PR woman, whose name escapes me. It goes without saying that I had been drinking. Laughter always involved an artificial stimulant of some sort or other. And now I have no such thing. I don't drink, take drugs or smoke cigarettes. The nearest I get to anything like a stimulant is the occasional cappuccino, but I prefer a sparkling mineral water, a Pellegrino or Badoit. Perhaps I should get myself a tin of Andrews Liver Salts, they used to be fun: a teaspooon of the stuff 'for a refreshing drink' but there's also an element of excitement as once the teaspoon of powder hits the water, the whole thing fizzes up and you have to be quick to drink it before it loses its zing, I suppose similar to Berocca tablets. So I checked out Google and found that Andrews Liver Salts ceased production in 2023, not because they were discovered to be dangerous or anything like that, but just because they could no longer make them anymore. Alternatives exist, but the best bet is to stick with sparkling mineral water.

I used to like drinking alcohol. Or rather I kidded myself that I liked it. When I was a kid, let's say eight to 10 years old, alcohol never touched my lips. I drank lemonade and cream soda and I considered both to be delicacies. I remember going swimming on a Sunday morning with my dad and Christopher Hunt and his dad. Chris and I were school pals and he lived a couple of blocks from me in Ringstead Road. Number six or number eight, I can't recall. We went to Morden swimming pool in South London, the deep end was 15ft if I remember correctly and I found the pool to be an exciting place. I loved the blue water and the smell of chlorine (and still do). My dad taught me to swim at Highfield Swimming Baths in Carshalton. After a swim at Morden we would be treated to a chocolate eclair and a Pepsi and that was the height of soft beverage excellence.

Like everything that isn't good for you, the truth of the matter is that when first experienced, it's so horrible you would likely never go near it again. Smoking and drinking were both like that. I remember coughing and spluttering when I first tried a cigarette, but practice made perfect and it was the same with alcohol. In the early days, I remember my dad allowing me a shandy in the pub, one made with real beer. These were the days when dad had first passed his driving test and started taking us on family jaunts into the countryside where there were many 'country pubs' offering rounds of ham sandwiches to go with the beer. I remember my dad drinking Tolly Cobbold beer in the summer, sitting in the back garden with his Sunday Times reading about politicians now long dead, Reginald Maudling, Denis Healy, Ted Short, there were loads of them and I recall setting fire to the newspapers he discarded using my magnifying glass. The papers never caught fire, the just smouldered and blackened around the hole I created. I loved the smell of burning newspaper and still do. 

It took a while to actually like drinking beer and smoking cigarettes but we all kept on at it just to be socially accepted. Today I simply wouldn't bother. But that peer pressure is strong and in many ways it still is; it's been eight years since I last had a drink but there are still people who want me to start again. While they think they might have some chance of success, they don't realise that I have made up my mind and I won't touch the stuff again. I'm called boring and such like, but it won't deter me from my already achieved goal of simply never touching the stuff again. I'd say to anybody who does drink: if you can go 12 months without it, you need never go near it again. I have lost every possible inclination to drink or smoke, I simply don't need it. I used to think I did need it and I probably did, but it was a false need. I'll admit there were many many times that I looked forward to reaching my hotel or a specific restaurant where the first thing I would order would be a large glass of Merlot and I really enjoyed the first sip or two, they would relax me and help me unwind. I couldn't think of anything better and it was the same with smoking. There was nothing better, in fact, than a pint and a cigarette: Benson & Hedges Gold, Marlboro Red, Camel, Kent, cigarettes with a bite to them, none of that 'low tar' rubbish or, of course, a decent roll-up, preferably Old Holborn. I used to love the dampness of a fresh pouch of the stuff.

If smoking and drinking were harmless I'd still be doing both of them right now as I write this; there would be an ashtray to my left and a pint of beer or a glass of wine too, but they are bad for me and I'm glad I've stopped. I realised through stopping that I don't need cigarettes or alcohol and never did. I was fooled by the advertising and the banter of my mates, all of whom continue to drink.

I never gave up because I had to. With smoking I stopped shortly after getting married. My wife has never smoked (she's the smart one of the family) and she didn't drink a lot either. I didn't want to harm her with my smoking so I stopped and I found it very easy to give up, but not as easy as alcohol. I gave up smoking for 10 years but then started again before finally giving up for good. I went through a stage of smoking other people's cigarettes if they were offered to me and had an on/off relationship with tobacco into the mid-90s, but finally even the little bit of smoking stopped and now nobody could tempt me to start smoking again. Similarly drinking, which I only gave up after an inner ear infection back in October 2017. Arguably, giving up drinking was one of the best decisions I have made.

When I was drinking, I remember that there would always be a moment when, after hitting the sack around 2300hrs I would awake around 0300hrs with a thumping heart, an increased heart beat that I used to find very worrying. I was told by a doctor that it wasn't something to worry about but I still think it was of concern and after I stopped drinking so did the rapid heart beat in the middle of the night, which had been a regular occurrence, now it's so rare I've forgotten about it. Surely a racing heart in the dead of night is not nothing, but whether it was or not, it's over now and I don't have to worry about it. 

I'm not one of those people who dislike others drinking, but oddly those who do drink rarely do so in my company even if I insist that they do; perhaps they're being polite, perhaps they think that by drinking they might 'set me off' and get me started again. They won't. I'm over it. 

Whether not drinking has made me a better person I don't know. Has it made me boring? Some people would say it has, they liked the crazy me even if my lunacy, my speaking out of turn, my fretting about what I might have said to X or Y at a party or a concert or round somebody's house would seriously bug me as I hated not being liked looked down upon and still do, it's just that now I don't feel compelled to jump through drinking hoops just to keep them impressed and on side and my friend. They can be my friend, but they have to accept that I don't drink anymore. Most of them do, but some of them don't and we rarely communicate as a result. 

In truth, I'm probably not as much fun as I used to be. As I said at the beginning of this post, I can't remember the last time I experienced uncontrollable laughter, which I believe is good for everybody. There was the time in Berlin and another occasion in Sutton Library with my old friend Andy Penfold. Both occasions involved artificial stimulants although I like to believe that had we not been under the influence the result would have been the same. Somehow I think not.