Author Daisy Buchanan, 38, is one of the growing number of Brits to quit drinking alcohol for good. Drinking had previously taken her to some dark emotional places. Here, she reveals why her first summer without alcohol was her happiest yet – and shares her advice on how to deal with booze-free festivities from weddings to BBQs and everything in between…

“Last year, I celebrated my Best Summer Ever – or at least my Best Summer Yet. I threw myself into weddings, parties, festivals and barbecues. I felt carefree and energetic. And I didn’t get a single hangover because I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol.

I finished my last alcoholic drink, a mediocre gin and tonic, on 23 June 2022 and haven’t touched booze since.

No-one is more surprised than me. I’ve always loved a drink, especially in the summer. I used to start celebrating in early April when rosé season was declared officially open. The moment I received a wedding invitation, I’d start dreaming about the delicious, icy glass of champagne served after the ceremony. I’ve been a member of at least three WhatsApp chats where the group name contains a reference to Aperol Spritz. Past Me couldn’t have stayed sober for the duration of a garden party. What changed?

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with alcohol. In my teens and twenties, I drank heavily and frequently, always with the intention of getting very drunk. Alcohol offered a short-term fix for the feelings that constantly plagued me. Drunk, I wasn’t anxious, sad or insecure. But hungover, these emotions would return with a vengeance, until I drank them away again. As I got older, I learned to moderate a little, and restricted my drinking to the weekends. Outwardly, it looked as though I’d calmed down.

However, when we came out of lockdown my social anxiety came roaring back and I started drinking like a teenager again. I’d try, and fail, to drink away my self-consciousness, feeling numb, and slightly ill. The next day, the headache and nausea wouldn’t bother me, but I’d be filled with profound shame and deep anxiety.

For a few years, I’d been drawn to sobriety memoirs – Glorious Rock Bottom by Bryony Gordon, The Unexpected Joy Of Being Sober by Catherine Gray, Blackout by Sarah Hepola and Drink Like A Woman by Holly Whitaker. Initially, I read for reassurance. Surely I wasn’t an alcoholic? However, emotionally, every single word resonated with me. I loved the glamour of drinking, the idea of it, the fizzy shiver of anticipation after a cork was popped. But alcohol took me to a dark place. I was starting to feel like I needed it. Then, after a couple of boozy parties led to a week of weeping, I made my decision. I’d stop drinking alcohol and see if anything changed.

There’s a mantra used in Alcoholics Anonymous that I took to heart: ‘One Day At A Time.’ When giving up drinking forever felt overwhelming, I’d stop thinking about forever, and remind myself that I just needed to get to the end of the day without a drink. A whole summer without booze seemed daunting, so I took it barbecue by barbecue.

I made some interesting observations. Firstly, everyone feels awkward before they start their first drink. If I allowed myself to feel the awkwardness, instead of trying to resist it, the feeling would evaporate by the time my Lucky Saint had arrived. Secondly, doing anything with people I loved in the sunshine was inherently fun. If I felt I needed a drink to get through the occasion, it wasn’t actually fun.

I was expecting a certain amount of resistance from my friends, but many were also thinking of quitting or cutting back. ‘It’s a revelation,’ my friend Emily told me. ‘If you’re not drinking, I feel I’ve got permission not to drink either – I go home when I want to go home, I sleep properly and I feel human the next day. Thank you.’

My greatest challenge came early. With almost a month of sobriety under my belt, I went to a big family wedding with an open bar. I suspected I was in for a long, hot, awkward day – and that my aunts, uncles and cousins might not be supportive. (‘Are you pregnant?’ ‘Just have one!’) It was going to be hard but I’d drink lots of water, bring some energy bars and pace myself. If I needed to take 10 minutes alone to gather my thoughts, that was fine. In fact, no-one noticed that I wasn’t drinking, unless I told them. There were moments when I felt tired or quiet. There were moments when I felt joyful, even euphoric. I talked, danced and laughed a lot. At midnight, when everyone was wilting from wine, I felt wonderful.

I still have cravings for alcohol, and I’m surprised by the events that set them off. Weirdly, when the Queen died, the sense of shock left me with a strong urge to sit in a pub and day-drink. When I finished writing my new novel, Limelight, I couldn’t toast myself with champagne (although I had a glass of Wild Idol, my favourite AF alternative.) I thought my first sober Christmas would be really difficult, but I loved it. Similarly, sober holidays are fabulous. Usually I stagger back from my holidays hungover, but instead I’ve felt inspired and restored. Also, dinner without drinks almost halves the bill.

Going sober in the summer is challenging, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. I used to drink alcohol to briefly boost my mood – but without alcohol, I feel significantly happier and more energetic. If you’re considering your own sober summer, here’s my advice. There will be highs and lows. You’ll crave delicious rosé – but you can satisfy that craving with company, connection and a different delicious cold drink. Most people will be pleased for you, or inspired by you, and the tiny minority who want you to have ‘just one’ may well have their own complicated relationship with booze.

And you should come and find me on the dance floor. Because there’s only one thing more liberating than dancing when you’re tipsy, and that’s dancing when you’re sober and everyone else is drunk."

Daisy’s novel LIMELIGHT, published by Sphere, is out now

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