Today

ALEXANDRA PATRIKIOS

March 7, 2010

A beer at a barbie, a glass of red before bed, cocktails with the girls – alcohol is the cornerstone of a typical social calendar. But as part of Febfast, a month-long initiative aimed at redefining Australia’s drinking culture, about 7200 people swore off the booze, trading the obligatory chardonnay for a humble ginger beer.

The Sunday Age followed three Febfasters: Victorian parliamentary secretary for public transport Brian Tee, ”Oarsome Foursome” rower James Tomkins, and PR manager Belinda Phillips.

Ms Phillips was the only one of the three to remain alcohol-free for the month. Not an easy feat for a woman whose working life revolves around wining and dining clients.

”I do think there is a kind of undisclosed pressure on people to be leading the way [by drinking], especially if you’re hosting. But I don’t think it really mattered at all that I wasn’t having a glass of champagne at an opening, and just a mineral water.”

After hours, Ms Phillips has found that giving up the grog hasn’t slowed her fast-paced social life. Whether it’s meeting with girlfriends for a catch-up dinner or going to parties, she says she has learnt ”that I can continue to be a social person without always needing to have a drink in my hand”.

But the month wasn’t without its challenges, and she concedes that ”breaking the habit of having a beer with my boyfriend” and turning down Friday night drinks was ”tricky”.

She relished the opportunity to seek out alternative ways to de-stress, such as early morning yoga and jogging.

She has even saved some extra cash from her self-imposed sabbatical, and plans to go overseas with her partner with the money saved. ”We’re thinking Thailand … I guess I probably saved about $100 a weekend, when you think about it, being able to drive and not drinking as much.”

Particularly resilient during Febfast – she didn’t take a single leave pass for the month – Ms Phillips admits there was a slightly bitter aftertaste to her first drink come March. ”It was a bit anti-climactic, and I even felt a bit naughty,” she says.

For Tomkins, the prospect of abstaining from alcohol for a month seemed like a walk in the park – in his rowing days, he would stay clear of alcohol for up to three months. But Febfast demanded an Olympic effort just to resist the daily temptation of a quick beer with a mate.

”It’s been a real eye-opener – in a social setting, you just drink without even thinking about it,” says Tomkins.

Although he admits to taking his second time-out pass during a conference for work – he is a senior account manager for an investment management firm – going dry, or at least, damp, has taught him some valuable lessons. ”I’ve learnt that you don’t actually have to have a drink.”

Labor state politician Brian Tee isn’t the only one who benefited from his alcohol-free February – with recharged energy stores, the 41-year-old parliamentary secretary, says that keeping up with the kids has never been easier.

Outside of the family home, Tee is confident that the Febfast message is also having a positive effect on the broader public, crediting the initiative with a newfound consciousness of our drinking culture.

”[Febfast] has just really raised awareness of how pervasive alcohol is. It is something we take for granted, out of habit rather than really thinking about it,” he says.

This month, Tee has been taking the lessons of Febfast one step further, making time for gym sessions, and maintaining Sunday to Friday as a weekly dry zone.

Febfast founder Fiona Healy says the response this year was overwhelming and more than $500,000 was raised for substance-abuse charities.

She attributes the rise in participation and donations to a heightened awareness of the effect of alcohol on people’s lives.