I think in England we have a special relationship with dirty water. I can only speak from my own experiences, which begin in Norfolk at my Grandparents pub. The bubbles of a lager, the frothy head of an ale, and yes both the bitter taste and smell of beer that seemed foul at the time. I could never fathom why people would drink something so unpleasant, in such vast amounts, in quantities that you only ever saw in milk. I was only told," that you would enjoy it when you're older."
Fast forward to age 14 I was allowed the occasional shandy, which turned into a small glass of wine at a meal, which turned into one pint of Green King IPA.
Age 15 now, the older Scouts egg me on to do the "Bear". Four meters of piping, filled with flat white cider to be downed in one like a yard of ale.
Age 17 at house parties drinking alcopops, cider, bottles of beer, cans of beer, Applesnapz, vodka, Malibu, wine box's and anything else that older brothers and sisters would get.
Age 18 and finally old enough to enter licensed premises. I had my first pint of Green King IPA from a pub with my Granddad in Norfolk. As more people got older in our friendship group the more of us went to our locals and the occasional club. In Falaraki Greece, where spirits are not sold in required measurements, I had the "Jack Daniels" experience which I only know from the stories. I woke up stinking of cigarettes, mouth tasting of vomit, tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and in my underwear. My friends wanted to call an ambulance to have my stomach pumped, the hotel manager refused, bringing bags of Ice to put under my armpits and crotch which was why I was half naked. Fiona’s now boyfriend Chris (who had the flat warming party) didn't know us yet. All he heard from his balcony was, "there’s a boy on third floor, and he’s dying!"
The next three years I had similar exploits which involved me stealing rocking horses, drinking absinthe and gin with the Goths in Camden, paying 80p for bottles of beer and two pounds for trebles in Newcastle, fighting with homeless workers in Soho, getting kicked out of "the" worst night club in Britain (which is in Southampton and is called Jesters, I was told you could piss and puke on the floor and no one will kick you out) and many more.
Fast forward to age 14 I was allowed the occasional shandy, which turned into a small glass of wine at a meal, which turned into one pint of Green King IPA.
Age 15 now, the older Scouts egg me on to do the "Bear". Four meters of piping, filled with flat white cider to be downed in one like a yard of ale.
Age 17 at house parties drinking alcopops, cider, bottles of beer, cans of beer, Applesnapz, vodka, Malibu, wine box's and anything else that older brothers and sisters would get.
Age 18 and finally old enough to enter licensed premises. I had my first pint of Green King IPA from a pub with my Granddad in Norfolk. As more people got older in our friendship group the more of us went to our locals and the occasional club. In Falaraki Greece, where spirits are not sold in required measurements, I had the "Jack Daniels" experience which I only know from the stories. I woke up stinking of cigarettes, mouth tasting of vomit, tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and in my underwear. My friends wanted to call an ambulance to have my stomach pumped, the hotel manager refused, bringing bags of Ice to put under my armpits and crotch which was why I was half naked. Fiona’s now boyfriend Chris (who had the flat warming party) didn't know us yet. All he heard from his balcony was, "there’s a boy on third floor, and he’s dying!"
The next three years I had similar exploits which involved me stealing rocking horses, drinking absinthe and gin with the Goths in Camden, paying 80p for bottles of beer and two pounds for trebles in Newcastle, fighting with homeless workers in Soho, getting kicked out of "the" worst night club in Britain (which is in Southampton and is called Jesters, I was told you could piss and puke on the floor and no one will kick you out) and many more.
At Fiona's flat warming party I had half a bottle of rum. I poured the half away on the way home. I have been thinking recently why I rely on alcohol to have a good time? It's not just me, allot of my friends have now finished uni so have been drinking like this for three years. I think the above illustrates what you will see in whole of the UK. I believe this stems back further than this, in which the poor people drank themselves stupid just to distract themselves from their boring mundane lives.
Hogarth's "Gin Lane" shows it has gone on forever, but I wouldn't want for other people to stop drinking even though I am. I also think that the Governments policy in preventing people drinking in excess is wrong, but I can't be arsed to rant about it here.
I did genuinely love alcohol, and not just drinking too much. But the amount we can achieve with out it I believe is far greater than anything I ever got from drinking the devils nectar.
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