And the Next Lockdown Project is...

Lockdown 1. Lost my mind. Batch cooked for Britain. Dyed half my head blonde. 

Lockdown 2. Bought every type of Christmas food. Ate at the table for the first time in years. Put fairy lights in the downstairs rooms. 

Lockdown 3. Erm...? Not sure really. Wore pyjamas? Watched telly? Not much else tbh. 

I am, Moira. I am.

It seems I'm experiencing Lockdown Burnout. It's a thing. I just invented it. At least I thought I had. I was all set to alert the General Medical Council and School of Tropical Medicine when I read an article about it*. Anyhoooo. Lockdown Burnout. I'm so over it. It's no fun. There's nothing new to do. Not even a new fear or panic to mix things up. No new ideas to alleviate the monotony. Just the year-long rumbling of fed-upness, angst, and a low threshold for any kind of excitement. It's almost a year since the first lockdown. That means, along with a lot of other scary, sad statistics, it's also the first anniversary of the last time I dyed my hair brown. And the last time I sat in a theatre. And the last time I saw a mate close up. And the last time I took a million and one other things for granted that I'd give an arm and a leg to do right now. Funny old world, innit. 

But that was eleven months ago. Three lockdowns ago. And - because of the cruel timing of the start of mass restrictions - nearly two birthdays ago. So we know the score. We're used to the rules. We keep a distance, we mask up, we stop touching every individual potato until we find the perfect one. We buy the first one we handle and on we trudge. 

But now I've diagnosed myself with Lockdown Burnout it's my responsibility to do something about it. It's not enough to simply set the table to up the mealtime ante. It's not enough to debate, with every glance in the mirror, whether to keep the blonde or keep the roots. It's not enough to switch on the remaining Christmas lights every morning like I've done since the first week of November even though it's February. I need more. And Readers, you know where I'm going. I have a plan. 

This is what I'm
 working with.

My plan takes the form of one word. That's all. It's brief and simple. Whisky. I'm going to attempt whisky. Not a drink I have much experience with but I like a new challenge. Here are a couple of things I learnt recently. 

1. Whisky is Scottish but whiskey is Irish. 
2. I can't stand whisky. Nor whiskey.

This will not put me off. Oh no. I will persevere. The only problem is the taste. It makes me feel like I've inadverntantly ingested nail varnish remover. Or meths. If it hadn't got anything else going for it, I'd not bother. But the problem is, it looks so cool. I want to hold a iced tumbler in my hand, swilling around its contents as I brood and dwell and reflect. I want to look like the adult in the room. The woman who has GOT this. I want to get in from the office, (what office?) stride over to the drinks cabinet in my Katharine Hepburn wide-legged trousers and brogues, pour a slug from a decanter, and knock it back, with one hand in my pocket and a cigarette holder dangling from my mouth. (I've not worked out the logistics yet. I'm sure it's doable.) I want to be a whisky/whiskey drinker so bad. 

This sort of thing, yes?

I have tried, of course. The first time was years ago in Scotland where I had a bash at a couple. I gave up after each sip. I once tweeted into a Riverside radio interview where Joe Wadsack - drinks coach extraordinaire - was discussing this very topic. I asked him what was the best whisky for someone who doesn't really like whisky. He very sweetly gave me the time of day and said Speyside. So now you know. 

50 mls of whisky, 50 mls
of amaretto, and a couple
of cherries. Cheers.

All this came to a head on Burns Night when I had another go. I felt it was important to be authentic. (Whisky with no E, thank you very much.) One mouthful in and I was struggling once more. Then I had a brainwave. I'd make a cocktail! Yes! Who'd have thought this was even a thing? Not me! With my genius invention fresh in my head, it was quite dispiriting to search for Whisky Cocktails and find literally thousands of results. It seems other people have had the same idea too. My innovative, entrepreneurial bubble was burst. At the time, it was too much to deal with, so I simply added a glug of Amaretto to my drink and spent a happy hour getting tipsy as shit. Who'd have guessed that a tumbler full of hardcore spirits would have that effect? I know. Every day's a school day. 

This weekend I'm taking the scientific approach. I've done my research and got a few ideas. I'm not interested in bells and whistles, olives and onions. I want simple ways to look cool and grownup without actually having to be. Cool and grown up that is. And without having to drink neat whisky. That too.

Full disclosure, I've had a bit of help on the inspiration front. On the Off Menu podcast from 27.1.21 Ed Gamble said he 'only started drinking whisky because of Mad Men and because cool people drink it in films'. I related immediately. Co-host, James Acaster, then commented how 'whisky looks delicious in films before you've tried it. It looks like it's literally a caramel drink.' All this hit home. So for you, and let's face it, really for me, here are two whisky cocktails I'm going to try this week. 

Whisky and soda with a twist
Don't be fooled. The twist is not what you think. Instead of lime, which I believe it traditional in these matters, I've twisted the concept of the soda. Behold CHERRY sparking water from Dalston's. I'm going to recreate my amaretto and whisky masterpiece with less alcohol and sugar content. I know. It's practically a health drink. As for a recipe, I imagine I'll do a shot glass of whisky, and a third of a can of cherry water. A glass from the freezer and maybe shaken over a bunch of ice cubes. Who knows? I'll work it out as I go. Like improv. Or jazz.

I don't understand ounces
but I completely get ratio!

Rob Roy 

This one is, I understand, an official cocktail recipe that the Tom Cruise shakey types will know. Whisky, vermouth, and bitters. I am going to venture down the spirit aisle next time I do the food shop, and search for the things from the list that aren't whisky. This is the drink that James Acaster discussed in the same podcast. He said that a Rob Roy looked the way he imagined whisky tasted before he had tried it, so I'm going for it. It's my new lockdown project. I've got a cocktail shaker waiting for some attention and I'm ready to oblige.

 

Much more likely, tbh.

Of course if I chicken out, or worse, if I spend a bunch of money on all sorts of fancy booze that gets shelved after one mouthful, I need you to do my a favour. Picture me swilling a clinking glass as I brood. Make me commanding, capable, and in charge of my shit. Add the cigarette holder if it works for you, I'm not fussed. But give the image of Cool Me a bit of airtime. And that can be my next lockdown activity. Sod the whisky. I'm attempting mind control.

 
Have a lovely week, folks. 

*It seems I didn't just invent it. This article was published the day after I wrote the first draft of this. If you want to read a more scientific and less whimsical piece about the specifics of pandemic burnout - with no references to whisky at any point - this is for you.