Bernard O'Shea: I've always had a love-hate relationship with alcohol. I love it, it hates me

I love looking behind the counter of an old establishment and seeing all the little trinkets collected over the years. The thick dust that has settled on a bottle of crème de menthe like ash from a volcano and the faded-to-yellow whiskey cover guards that have been holding onto upside down bottles tentatively for decades. 

The piece de resistance for me is the sign at the hatch that says, "Not for patrons. Staff only". But of course, that's where everyone stands even if it is almost impossible for the bar person to get in and out to collect glasses. 

Then, of course, the punter rounds up a few empties and lands them on the counter, expecting a Nobel Peace Prize for their efforts. Still, we all know their ulterior motive is to get served quicker. 

There is, of course, a law written into the constitution that states, "The best pubs, the ones where you could happily spend the night, have to have terrible toilets, and the only food option is Taytos and those tiny red packets of peanuts."

Then, of course, there's the friend who says, "Come out for the one". 

Never in the State's history has anyone met their friend in a pub for "one" and then gone home. If it did happen, it would be reported on the Six One News the following day. 

There was a feeling that you should happily watch your friends get plastered while sipping on a mineral (what a soft drink is called "down the country"). Still, with a massive selection of non-alcoholic beers, I've found myself not just going for a few drinks but staying out for the night. However, having to chauffeur everyone home.

For me, it's being out. I love going to meet up with friends and having the craic. I rarely have a drink at home, and even when I was young wild and free, I didn't drink at home. 

I'm a social animal. 

I'm that person on the WhatsApp group that wants to go out at half four in the day and be in bed for nine. 

A pint of your favourite non-alcoholic tipple is essentially social camouflage.

For years there was only one option, "non-alcoholic Becks", so much so that when I worked in pubs in the late nineties and early two thousands, if someone asked for a Becks, it was taken that they meant the non-alcoholic variety. Now nearly every brand has a non-alcohol partner.

I get those that say to me, "What's the point?" But the point is I like the taste of beer. 

I have a sweet tooth, but after your fourth Cidona (yes, there are people like myself that still drink and love Sedona), you're sugared off your head and have enough. 

For instance, I can tell a non-alcoholic Guinness from its alcoholic cousin, similarly Heineken "0", and that's really important. I'll know if someone gets their round in and buys me the alcoholic version. But on those rare nights over Christmas that I decided I would have a few pints, I'll be a "festive flexitarian".

Flexitarians have a diet that has a "more flexible approach to vegetarianism, so that you can reap the benefits of loading up on fruits, vegetables, and whole grains, without ditching animal products like steak and burgers entirely" (https://www.everydayhealth.com). 

So, for instance, I love pork sausages, but I'll also buy the non-meat version. I'm beginning to take the same approach to my social outings.

Firstly, I always book the next day off with my wife. I'd prefer to go out once a year and get the next day off instead of going out four or five times. For me, the next day is just not worth it. I must stay in bed with a selection box and beg someone to get me a bag of chips. It also helps if there's a full roster of soccer matches on.

Last Christmas, I had three non-alcoholic beers and three alcoholic ones on a night out. I didn't feel like I missed out on anything, but I wasn't in a heap the next day, either. 

So to that traditionalist with their novelty jumpers, I say, why not visit all 12 pubs of Christmas this year but secretly just do six.