There's been a bit of discussion around wine o'clock over the last week, prompted by Louise Mensch posting about it on her blog, Unfashionista. One of the newspapers asked if I might write a response to the idea of taking wine o'clock away, so I did but they didn't use it and I can't bear waste so here it is*.
Wine is an excellent thing. Given that I worked as a supermarket wine buyer for the best part of a decade it is not surprising I’m a fan. But, that aside, after a typical day – school runs, a supermarket trolley-dash and possibly a conference call in which I try not to let on that I have a 3-foot-tall Power Ranger standing before me – I love having a glass of wine.
Before we go any further, I must address the issue of frazzled mums collapsing on the sofa, glass in hand. Hands up, that’s me. But I am a normal person who likes a glass of wine. I’m not guzzling the bottle. They say women should know their limits. Well, I know mine. It’s fourteen units a week. Sometimes I drink less than that, sometimes a bit more, but generally wine is part of everyday (or rather night) life in our house, usually served with food and an episode of Masterchef/Mad Men (delete as appropriate).
Mothers of old drank gin when pregnant and blew smoke in the other direction when holding a baby. We’ve come a long way since then and shouldn't be made to feel guilty just because we love a glass of wine at the end of the day. Motherhood already comes with a side order of guilt, and so on behalf of all of us who drink responsibly I’m sending that particular dish back. I wrote my book because I thought that seeing as we’re (in my experience, anyway) drinking less than we used to, we should make each glass count and drink better.
Any given day with small children generally involves tears, laughter and endless trips to the loo. And that’s just me. The point is, motherhood is a joy but it is also completely exhausting. Along with the sheer pleasure and wonder our children bring us on a daily basis (no laughing at the back) we are also faced with the slightly less joyful tasks of endless piles of washing to sort out, running a canteen and taxi service, wiping noses and bottoms and kitchen tables whilst picking up random bits of plastic on the way. Motherhood ain’t no place for sissies, as they say. It is chaotic, messy and very, very noisy. But when the day is done, and the children are put to bed with clean faces and full tummies, I love the quiet that descends. Like a blanket, it gently tucks itself over the house. And when it does finally happen, the quiet is restorative. It’s grown-up time, and a glass of wine marks the split between the rest of our day and the time we have to ourselves in the evening. I don't have a glass of wine every evening, but more often than not I do. It is usually delicious and crucially it is about the taste, rather than the hit. So I won’t get wound up by those who want to take wine o’clock away. I’ll just pop the kettle on for them.
*adapted from my book .
Labels: wine o'clock