Ian McDonaldAS I have written often enough, Samuel Johnson, that most sensible of men, made us beware of those who cultivate the knack of feeling displeased at everything that life has to offer. You will meet "everything on the negative list" people everywhere the gloom-mongers, the doom-watchers, the killjoys, the dyed-in-the-wool pessimists. There is a particular class of them who make a point of discovering the harmful side in anything attractive, enjoyable, or amusing.
For instance, there are medical experts who solemnly warn women who enjoy running to beware the dangers of what they call 'jogger's nipple', caused by the friction of shirt and bra against the nipples while running. They also warn those who like to dress in jeans of an infection which they have named 'jeans folliculitis', caused by wearing jeans too fashionably tight.
On and on it goes. Sugar, they ridiculously say, is deadly stuff. Caffeine is just as bad. Sunlight causes skin cancer. Beware the fresh air of a wind-filled day because it carries allergy-activating pollen. The dangers are endless. The world is entirely filled with pitfalls. The only safe thing left to do is drink cold water, eat dry bread, and go for a brisk walk in a monastery. All our pleasures have become either illegal, immoral, or lethal.
This attack on the enjoyable is often evident in the campaign against drink. The horrors of drink are drummed ruthlessly into us and, indeed, alcohol abuse is probably the cause of more anguish even than drugs. However, please note that such warnings apply to serious over-indulgence. A Committee of the Royal Society of Psychiatrists in London states it best: anyone who drinks regularly every day more than four pints of beer, or four double measures of spirit, or a bottle of wine risks peptic ulcers, cirrhosis of the liver, peripheral neuritis and brain damage, not to mention the greatly increased probability of a fatal car accident. And that is a deadly serious warning. But it refers to a fantastic daily alcoholic intake.
Drink in modernisation, on the other hand, is one of the great, convivial pleasures of life. Indeed, a few years ago a joint report by the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine and Guy's Hospital showed that those who take up to 34 grammes of alcohol daily live longer than teetotallers. And this audit has since been supported by other studies.
These days I especially enjoy good wine though I am also happy that I live in a country that makes by far the best rum in the world. "When there is plenty of wine," wrote Ovid, that lovely Roman poet, "sorrow and worry take wing." A friend of mine used to quote to me, over a bottle of wine, the old advice of Henry Aldrich in the 17th century on the reasons why a man should take a drink or two:
"If all be true that I do think,
There are five reasons we should drink:
Good wine a friend on being dry
Or lest we should be by and by
Or any other reason why."
Or, if your taste is whisky, hear what was found in an old Scottish manuscript, dated 1578 and quoted in Murphy's marvellous book A History of Whisky:
"Whisky being moderatelie taken, it sloweth age, it strengtheneth youth, it keepeth and preserveth the head from whirling... Truly it is a sovereign liquor."
As one grows older, the hangovers from over-indulgence get worse. The Finns have a word for it the loverly word FLINDAFLUNSSA, which means 'bottle flu'. And in Burma, they use an even better word UNGIT which translates literally as "that which, while it lasts, makes a man feel that the clapper of the heaviest temple bell for miles around is playing tunes on the inside of his skull". In Burma they brew a particularly potent kind of rice wine which apparently makes the Burmese hangover world famous.
Luckily, as I grow old and wise, I know I must limit myself to that prescribed 34 grammes a day which will leave me with just a glow of contentment. I no longer have any cause to fall back on the famous hangover cure invented by Eddie Condon, the jazz musician, the recipe of which begins, in case you want to make a note: "Take the juice of two quarts of whisky..."
Ian McDonald is a regular contributor who lives and works in Georgetown, Guyana.
