I thought about having a drink the other day. Specifically, a gin and tonic, in a frosted glass, the kind they serve in those swish restaurants where cocktails are sold as much as a lifestyle choice as they are a refreshing drink option.It’s funny, because before I gave up alcohol I was never really a G&T kind of girl – I’d drink bottles and bottles of rosé or down endless pints of lager, believing, ludicrously, that a unit of wine or beer was healthier than a unit of spirits. (Spoiler alert: it isn’t).And yet when I received bad news last week, this imaginary G&T was all I could think about. The feel of the condensation on the glass, the sharp bitterness on my tongue, the chair in the garden I’d be on as I settled down to the stiff drink that would take the edge off the overwhelming disappointment I was experiencing due to a difficult phone call.The deafening drum of ‘drink noise’ was on me, and it shocked me as I’m an alcoholic in recovery and was only days away from celebrating nine years of sobriety.We hear a lot about ‘food noise’ in this age of weight-loss drugs that can switch off your appetite. You’ll probably know it well – obsessing about sweets, crisps and all the other junk that isn’t good for us in large amounts.But until that moment last week, I’d forgotten entirely about drink noise: the endless thoughts about booze and when you can reasonably get away with having the next glass of it.That desire for a G&T was a stark reminder that for a large portion of my adult life (and sadly, a small part of my childhood), I existed alongside an almost constant barrage of drink noise. Bryony Gordon says while she loves life as a sober woman, on the anniversary of her last drink, which was during the August bank holiday of 2017, that it all comes flooding back to herIt was the sound that silenced every issue in my life, from boyfriend problems to difficulties at work to the stress of parenting. I told myself I couldn’t have an alcohol problem because I didn’t drink in the day, but what did it really matter when I spent all day thinking about it?My life revolved around alcohol, from the rules I had around it – no booze until the baby is asleep! – to the excuses I’d make up each morning to explain my tired eyes and constant lateness.I love my life as a sober woman but it was hard won, and it’s around the anniversary of my last drink, which was during the August bank holiday of 2017, that it all comes flooding back to me. Not just the drink noise, but the battle it took to silence it.There was the chronic insomnia that came from no longer being able to knock myself out with alcohol. I’d heard that cutting out booze improved the quality of your sleep, but my counsellor in rehab explained that this was only with people who drank ‘normally’. I lay awake at night, obsessing over my terrible behaviour after drinking in the past, and when I’d eventually drift off, it was not at all restful.My body was sweating out the toxins of years of boozing, and I’d often wake up feeling like I’d gone several rounds with Tyson Fury. Even so, I had to remind myself that it was probably still far better quality sleep than all those nights where I’d essentially fallen into a booze-induced coma, or not gone to bed at all.I developed adult acne in the months after I gave up, too. I used some of the money I saved on booze and drugs to treat myself to skincare from Space NK. I’d never had a sweet tooth, but suddenly I swapped pints of Stella for pints of Ben and Jerry’s – I’d been imbibing a whole load of sugar in the alcohol I drank, and my body now craved it.A wise sober friend told me to eat all the ice cream I could, if it stopped me from giving into alcohol cravings: ‘We deal with whatever is going to kill us first,’ she said bluntly.I put on weight, but I didn’t care, because I was no longer sending people embarrassing, drunk text messages at 2am.My hormones hit me with gusto, clearly ecstatic that they could finally take centre stage in my body after decades of being drowned in wine. My mood swings were wild, my periods dreadful. Again, I told myself they were probably no worse than the vicious hangovers I was frequently hit with, and at least it only happened once a month, as opposed to every other day. My husband would rather deal with a bit of crankiness than an almost permanently half-cut wife.It all levelled out after six months, when the world seemed to turn from black and white to technicolour, and I started to feel the health benefits of giving up the grog. But it’s the memory of these withdrawal symptoms that stops me from giving into the drink noise, when it very occasionally strikes up in difficult times. Put simply: I don’t want to go through any of that ever again. I think it would kill me.So I resisted the idea of that ice-cold gin and tonic, knowing it would only make a bad situation worse. After a few hours, the G&T drink noise faded into nothing more than a whisper, and I got to wake up with a clear-head, a clean conscience, and the joyous realisation that I’d made it to nine years sober. Dolly Parton knew the most important rule for contentment: take work seriously, but never yourselfMay Dolly Parton rest in fabulousnessDolly Parton knew the most important rule for contentment: take work seriously, but never yourself. ‘After a life of wearing heavy rhinestones, she finally deserves to be comfortable,’ said her nephew of the ‘beautiful bed of plush cotton’ the country legend requested for her coffin. May she rest in peace – and fabulousness. You show your ex what he’s missing, Maya!Pity the poor footballer ex of the magnificent Maya Jama. She split from Man City player Ruben Dias in May and has been living her best life ever since – from hosting Love Island, to chartering a private jet with her mum to Ibiza, to this week being unveiled as the star of the new series of Guy Ritchie’s Netflix drama The Gentleman.That’s quite the flex. Good on Maya – there’s nothing like a career boost to show an ex what they’re missing. Maya Jama has been living her best life, from hosting Love Island to this week being unveiled as the star of the new series of Guy Ritchie’s Netflix drama The GentlemanI’m not surprised that one in seven in England are now on antidepressants, given the parlous state of the health service in this country. I’ve been on Prozac since I was 17, to treat Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and they were a life-saver at the time. But I fear they are also being used to fob off perimenopausal women who actually need HRT, and it’s not good enough. These drugs are undoubtedly important for people with a history of mental illness, but they shouldn’t be used as a sticking plaster – either for patients, or the NHS.It’s been revealed this week that the loathsome Andrew Tate rents supercars to appear wealthy. Lawyers for him and his brother Tristan have said that ‘it is in their interest to portray themselves on social media as uber-wealthy… The more hyperbolic and outlandish the post, the more likely it will generate views and likes, which in turn generates income. In short, they are playing a role.’ A damning indictment not just of the disgusting Tate brothers – but of all influencer culture and social media. It has been revealed this week that the loathsome Andrew Tate rents supercars to appear wealthyAs a mum, I’m all for Prue’s lunchbox ban Dame Prue Leith is quite right that lunchboxes should be banned in schools. The former Bake Off judge objects to them on the grounds they can’t be policed for unhealthy snacks, and would like school meals to be free for every child, as well as compulsory. I'd love an end to lunchboxes, if only to save the sanity of time-strapped parents – not to mention the washing up load at the end of a busy day!