The wise words of Uncle Steve

If six was yesterday's number of the day (and, thankfully, the number of messy mousey ends has not reached seven overnight), then today's number is undoubtedly 10.

Because it is now 10 days since I climbed on to the "dry wagon." And I've hated almost every second of it.

There is no question that I (and Vanessa) have done the right thing by abstaining from all forms of alcoholic beverage (until at least the last weekend of the month). But that doesn't make it easy.

It's not so bad during the week (although it's still very far from good). However, last weekend was a killer.

That moment on a Friday night when sproglet is finally asleep and you can go downstairs and pull something "sharp" out of the fridge is, to my mind, what the working week is all about. The idea of not having a drink on a Saturday is just plain wrong. And even ministers of the cloth have a snifter on a Sunday to compliment their round of pan loaf.

So last weekend, my first of drinking dull stuff, was therefore a challenge.

I came home on Friday and declared to Vanessa that it was no good, I couldn't do it and I was off to get a bottle of Miller.

"OK," she responded without a flicker of emotion, "you do what you want, but I'm not having a drink."

What a low blow it was. And yes I know it was reverse psychology, but there was no way she was going to outdo me - so out came the orange squash.

But come Saturday, I was even worse.

"I don't care, this time you do what you want to - I'm having a drink," I announced before heading up to tell my Facebook friends that I was intending to pop off the wagon on a temporary basis.

But a few minutes after doing so, something extremely unexpected happened.

My old mate Steve Donoughue (below left) responded swiftly to my post and implored me not to be weak. And it stopped me dead in my tracks.

Because Steve, a gambling consultant by trade and one of the great characters I've met, is a man who seeks to "enjoy life" (it took me a little while to decide what phrase to use there).

So if Steve is telling you not to be weak, well, it registers. The only comparison I can make would be if Andy Murray phoned me on my mobile and told me to cheer up. I think you've got the idea.

And Steve's words were strengthened yet further when he revealed that he too is on the wagon. What is the world coming to?

I was therefore left with no alternative but to take the chilling bottle of white wine out of the fridge and place it back on the wine rack where it belonged. I was devastated but I knew I was doing the right thing - because Uncle Steve had said so.

I then headed back upstairs to report my actions to the wise one.

And Steve's response was one I'll long remember:

"Well done that man - did I say I've taken to sniffing glue?"