Judith Lacy’s Jottings: Let’s raise a glass of water to Guyon Espiner

Guyon Espiner's book The Drinking Game is a must-read and, yes, you can be a sober journalist. Just ask me. Photo / Mark Mitchell

Opinion

I don’t know how we got on to the topic but we did. And since then my brain keeps going back to it like Maysie to her food bowl.

We were at a networking event and the acquaintance started talking about how he used to go out with a Fleet Street journalist. The relationship didn’t last - he didn’t think his liver would survive all the drinking.

Then he turned to me and asked if I drink like other journalists. “No, my health is much too important,” I replied.

I was a late bloomer to journalism (not entirely by choice). I started journo school when I was 29 and our class fell into roughly two groups - those straight out of school and those looking to change careers. The two groups were not a natural fit but we did occasionally socialise.

I can remember holding one young friend’s hair back while she vomited into the toilet. I naively used to think such undignified acts happened only in movies. As the sober driver, there wasn’t much partaking on my behalf.

When I was in the hostel at university drinking (not mine) meant being unable to get to sleep, fearing for my safety and worried about what I would find in the bathroom the next day.

Weren’t we meant to be poor and developing our brains, not killing them scull by scull?

In my first journalism job I was introduced to cocktails and whiskey sour became my drink. There was one incident that I will never live down. I’ve been told there is photographic evidence of that night but I’ve never seen it. Maybe someone will whip it out at my funeral, my 21st well past.

I had two cocktails the day after my nephew’s funeral last year. I was not only grieving his sudden, tragic death but being treated not as the family black sheep, which I’m used to, but as the invisible sheep.

Did I feel better afterwards? Of course not.

Before journalism went online there was one deadline a day when the printing press began to run. The Saturday paper was the biggie full of features and lifestyle content so it seemed natural on a Friday to head to the pub. They always seemed so handy to newsrooms.

Journalists tend to stick together because - cue the violins - we are often reviled, mistrusted and misunderstood. Yet can you imagine a world without us?

I’ve just read Guyon Espiner’s The Drinking Game. Espiner is one of my journalism heroes - he’s level-headed, has a cat-with-a-mouse attitude, and is a polished presenter.

I agree with Espiner that alcohol is a drug.

I was saddened to learn there is no evidence that Māori used any intoxicants until the arrival of Europeans with alcohol.

I was shocked to learn the requirement for pregnancy warning labels on alcoholic beverages doesn’t come into effect until July 31.

I’m no Kate Sheppard and am not about to launch a temperance movement. But let’s be honest with ourselves about the harm alcohol can cause like we are now with smoking and hopefully soon will be with vaping.

Talking about honesty, I consume enough sugar as it is without drinking alcohol and my face is red enough without a booze-induced flush.

It’s great to see a range of non-alcoholic drinks being offered at functions now, just not orange juice and water if you are lucky.

And to the person or persons waiting patiently for me to return The Drinking Game to the library, I have now done so. I’m happy to shout you a non-alcoholic drink.