This week’s topic is one I have wanted to write about for a while. I have danced around this subject because it’s not only a contentious one but also one that I have my own personal worries about.
So, how better to self-therapise than to email over 1,000 people with my inner thoughts on that very topic?
It’s time to talk about alcohol.
Cheers!
Living in the North East, drinking culture is integral to many of our lives. Newcastle Upon Tyne is famous for its brown ale (which hasn’t actually been brewed or bottled here since 2007), as well as its bustling nightlife, where flat shoes and coats are nowhere to be seen as we totter across the Bigg Market cobbles.
I grew up in a coastal town just a few miles out, which is a renowned stag and hen location. A typical bank holiday would bring the chaos of the bar street into daylight hours, and match days fostered an edgy atmosphere where a hug could turn into a punch or worse.
Even in my own home, regular drinking was normalised. Without going into too much detail, rarely a day of my childhood went by without a wine glass appearing on the countertop after 5 pm, and a bottle or two in the recycling bin by 10.
This time of year adds fuel to the fire for drinkers, with many people upping their intake in the name of celebration. I saw this first-hand when I worked in pubs in my early 20s, with the entire month of December treated as an opportunity for most patrons to get as bladdered as possible. Most of whom couldn't hold their drink, and we minimum wage employees were left paying the price.
Getting mortal
People in the North East don’t just drink. They drink a lot.
Even if you aren’t from the North East, you’ll have probably seen Geordie Shore. The reality TV show depicts a group of 20-somethings living in Newcastle with the single ambition of getting mortal.
When Geordie Shore hit our screens, I was 20 and probably at the peak of my own drinking habits. I travelled between Newcastle and university in Hull, going out with friends multiple times a week and almost always waking up with a sore head and blistered feet. I have never been able to drink without feeling the effects the next day, most notably the “hangxiety” that would put me into a 24-hour pit of dread, a dark cloud only lifting on Monday morning when I had a proper sober night’s sleep.
I’d been going out drinking since I was 17 - pretty late in the game for a Newcastle lass. And, while I was familiar with what went on in town on a Saturday night, seeing it broadcast on MTV every week was quite a sobering experience.
The type of drinking I saw at that age, both in my real life and on shows like Geordie Shore, was completely self-destructive. A combination of peer pressure and feelings of immortality meant that drinking was the only way to let go, and if you didn’t do it, you were probably left out of a lot of social situations.
In my late twenties, while travelling South East Asia, I took some time off drinking altogether and focused instead on diligently taking my anxiety medication and allowing experiences to fill my cup instead of beer. The last thing I expected when I announced I wasn’t drinking at the moment was a negative reaction, but I had this from both close friends and certain family members. Perhaps choosing not to drink made me seem like a buzzkill? Or I acted as a mirror reflecting their own habits back onto them? I was careful not to judge anyone, but growing up in a home where daily drinking was the norm, it took me many years to learn what a healthy relationship with alcohol could look like.
In fact, I am still very much on that journey. I struggle to think about how alcohol may have played a role in my Mam’s cancer diagnosis, while also recognising that a cup of mulled wine at the Christmas market is a lovely festive treat that I don’t want to give up.
For most people, and maybe even some of you reading this, alcohol consumption is something you don’t really think about. You might have a glass of wine with dinner or enjoy a few pints on a match day; every so often, you might drink too much and have a headache. But then you move on with your life and don’t dwell on those little decisions.
My own relationship with alcohol was never particularly extreme or dangerous, but I still spend a lot of time thinking about drinking. What is too much? Is any amount of alcohol okay? My incessant worries come as a result of my upbringing, where I was led to believe drinking every day was normal. It’s not.
But for me, it’s something that occupies my mind a lot, especially at this time of year when alcohol advertising is rife, and employees are playing with bottles of cheap wine in hotel function rooms in the name of corporate hospitality. I could stop drinking altogether, and I probably will one day, but equally, I like a glass of fizz at Christmas or an ice-cold lager on a hot day.
While any amount of alcohol is proven to increase the risks of cancer and other deadly conditions, British (and especially northern) society still holds a fond torch to drinking, and drinking to excess.
The data confirm my own suspicions. Post-pandemic, we know nearly half of adults in our region (47%) are drinking above recommended low-risk guidelines. A recent government study positioned the North East at the number one spot for alcohol-related hospital admissions nationwide. We also have the highest rate of alcohol-related deaths in the country.
It’s not just a social thing
It’s worth making it clear that our region’s alcohol consumption problems aren’t just about party culture. In fact, I’d argue that the most crippling examples of dependency have nothing to do with the Geordie Shore types.
For many, alcohol is an ill-fitting remedy used to cope with mental health issues, the Cost of Living crisis, pressures at work and troubles at home. It’s no coincidence that the parts of the UK with the highest alcohol-related hospital admitting rate are also the most ‘deprived’ local authorities. For many people, alcohol is a crutch - something that gets them through the day, even if it is simultaneously stealing their livelihoods.
I don’t want to paint the picture that alcohol dependency is a class issue, either. A 2018 study found that high earners in professional jobs, such as teachers and lawyers, are more likely to drink regularly (four to six days a week). So, while hospitalisations and alcohol-related injuries are more common among poorer parts of society, it’s safe to say that a reliance on alcohol as a means of just getting through the week is universal.
Mommy needs her wine
Never has this coping mechanism been clearer than in “mum wine-drinking” culture. You only have to head to your local Card Factory to see hundreds of greeting cards depicting mothers enjoying (or needing) a glass of wine. You’ve got booked like Why Mummy Drinks by Gill Sims, tacky wine ‘mum’ wine glasses like the below and hundreds of Facebook groups dedicated to connecting '‘wine mums’ who are clamming on that grape juice to get them through the bedtime routine.
Wine is positioned as a remedy for the mental load, a domestic burden often carried by women in the family home. In contrast, dad drinking culture is seen as a release - wetting the baby’s head, for example, is a tradition whereby the dad goes out with his pals to get drunk. The baby isn’t even involved.
But what do the beer dads and wine mums have in common? They’re all making alcohol part of their cultural identity.
And this phenomenon isn’t limited to parents, either. Corporate Christmas parties are almost always oriented around alcohol consumption; supermarkets position drink deals at the tills to encourage shoppers to pick up a bottle or two with their weekly essentials.
It’s not all bad. In fact, young people seem to be bucking the trend by being the “least likely to drink” of any age group, and around 26% of Gen Z are fully teetotal. This is really comforting to me, as someone who felt pressure to drink even when I didn’t always fancy it. Needing an excuse like driving to an event or having work the next day doesn’t seem to matter anymore. You can just not have a drink, and that’s fine.
However, if you don’t feel like you can say no to a drink - either because you feel pressured to have one, or because you can’t seem to stop when you start, then help is there. DrinkAware provides an abundance of free guidance to help people stop drinking, and the /r/stopdrinking Subreddit is also a useful resource if you feel alone - especially at the time of year.
If you intend to keep drinking but want to be more mindful of what and how much you consume, like me, then here are some tips to get you through the festive season:
Choose low or zero-alcohol alternatives
Here in the Boyle residence, we are big fans of low and zero-alcohol beers. Some favourites include Impossibrew, Athletic Brew Co. and Mash Gang. You can take a couple of cans of these to a friend’s house and still feel part of the festivities, but safely drive home after. What’s not to like?
Avoid situations where you feel pressured to drink
Suggest activities with friends over simply going out drinking. Cinema trips, crazy golf, beach walks… there are so many things you can do that don’t necessarily mean you have to drink to excess, or you can opt out altogether while still feeling part of the occasion.
Prepare responses for nosey family members
If you only fancy one glass of fizz but don’t want to neck a whole bottle, then it helps to have a few one-liners in your arsenal to combat those snarky comments. Even just “I’m good for now” and a topic shift will help anyone who feels pressure to keep drinking at the dinner table or down the pub on Christmas Eve.
So, whether you plan to go sober this December, or just want to be a little more conscious of how much you drink, I hope this has helped. And, if you’re thinking about alcohol overconsumption and what it’s doing to your friends and family, then you’re not alone. I’m right here.
It’s been a week of working hard and trying to get everything done before Christmas, so we can take a week off. The weather is also an absolute wash-out here in the North of England, so there’s not been much touching grass recently. With that in mind, here are a couple of photos of my daughter in her IKEA kitchen. She is very much in her ✨single mom who works two jobs✨ era right now.
That’s all from me. See you next week, where I’ll share some insights into dealing with difficult family members and the contentious dinner table topics.
Until then,
Ellen x
Irish drinking culture is very similar. "Ah he's fond of the aul' drink so he is!" = functioning alcoholic. Not helped by the fact that there are zero places to socialise in the evening that isn't the pub, unless you go for dinner or to the cinema.
I don't drink much because of hangxiety and my dodgy digestive system, and it can be a bit stressful sometimes explaining why I don't want to drink. But also - we shouldn't have to explain why NOT. Like you, I still enjoy a mulled wine or a cocktail, and I think that's okay. It's a little treat.
I think I was 20 when I first came to the UK to study, and during an internship, saw just how packed every single bar & pub was post 5. It made me realize that if someone didn't drink post-work, there's really not that many other opportunities to socialize with your coworkers or even "network."
This was a very thoughtful & insightful post. So much of adult socialization revolves around drinking that it's probably very difficult for those who don't. Luckily, like you said, a lot of the younger generation is okay with non-alcoholic drinks & is actively switching to other types of social activities too!
Also, omg, your little one is growing up SO quickly!! She was so little when I saw her at the start of summer!! Adorable pictures <3