A few weeks before I turned 60 I decided to formally quit drinking altogether. I've done this before, after a fashion, though I am not sure I said 'forever' before. I just decided that it didn't agree with me anymore (if it ever really did). 

I've certainly been a big part of drinking environments in my time. I vaguely recall a 20s where everything seemed to revolve around buildup to the weekend when something would be on, that would probably involve getting drunk somewhere. I also know there was a time (maybe I was 26 or 27?) when I stopped drinking completely for a year, because I was sick of the way I would be drunk and try, really ineptly or at least it rarely if ever worked, to pick up girls. It seemed unavoidable that would happen and it was stupid. But also somewhere in there I didn't like the dulling effect of alcohol on my mind, not that I am a great public wit at the best of times, but alcohol certainly didn't liberate my Algonquinesque talents, in fact, it made me slow and boring. 

I have noticed in the last few years I have (1) periodically wanted a drink, for whatever reason (2) been unable to sleep properly even after just a small drink. Red wine was the first drink to make this happen but then it spread apparently to any alcoholic substance. 

So, whatever. I have not been a beer drinker for decades, wine has worn out its welcome, and things like whisky (or for that matter Kaski) have been a minor pleasure but when it comes down to it, I can do without it. It's never been the enormous source of pleasure for me that it seems to be for most other people who partake, and I think ultimately like for instance the music of Bob Dylan or the films of, um, Stephen Spielberg, I should just say: look, everyone, you do you but I cbf with this any longer. 

Hilare Boofhead above is from the Sydney Daily Mirror 6 March 1951 p. 17.