my name is don tillman and i am an alcoholic. i formedthese words in my head but i did not say them out loud, notbecause i was drunk (which i was) but because it seemed thatif i said them they would be true, and i would have no choicebut to follow the rational path which was to stop drinkingpermanently.

my intoxication was a result of the father project – specificallythe need to gain competence as a drinks waiter. i hadpurchased a cocktail shaker, glasses, olives, lemons, a zesterand a substantial stock of liquor as recommended in thebartender’s companion in order to master the mechanicalcomponent of cocktail making. it was surprisingly complex, andi am not naturally a dextrous person. in fact, with theexception of rock climbing, which i have not practised since iwas a student, and martial arts, i am clumsy and incompetentat most forms of sport. the expertise in karate and aikido isthe result of considerable practice over a long period.

i practised first for accuracy, then speed. at 11.07 p.m., i wasexhausted, and decided that it would be interesting to test thecocktails113/290for quality. i made a classic martini, a vodka martini, amargarita and a cock-sucking cowboy – cocktails noted by thebook as being among the most popular. they were allexcellent, and tasted far more different from one another thanice-cream varieties. i had squeezed more lime juice than wasrequired for the margarita, and made a second so as not towaste it.

research consistently shows that the risks to health outweighthe benefits of drinking alcohol. my argument is that thebenefits to my mental health justify the risks. alcohol seems toboth calm me down and elevate my mood, a paradoxical butpleasant combination. and it reduces my discomfort in socialsituations.

i generally manage my consumption carefully, scheduling twodays abstinence per week, although the father project hadcaused this rule to be broken a number of times. my level ofconsumption does not of itself qualify me as an alcoholic.

however, i suspect that my strong an-tipathy towardsdiscontinuing it might do so.

the mass dna collection subproject was proceedingsatisfactorily, and i was working my way through the cocktailbook at the required rate. contrary to popular belief, alcoholdoes not destroy brain cells.

as i prepared for bed, i felt a strong desire to telephone rosieand report on progress. logically it was not necessary, and itis a waste of effort to report that a project is proceeding toplan, which should be the default assumption. rationalityprevailed. just.

rosie and i met for coffee twenty-eight minutes before thereunion function. to my first-class honours degree and phd, icould now add a responsible service of alcohol certificate. theexam had not been difficult.

rosie was already in server uniform, and had brought a maleequivalent for me.

114/290‘i picked it up early and washed it,’ she said. ‘i didn’t want akarate exhibition.’

she was obviously referring to the jacket incident, even thoughthe martial art i had employed was aikido.

i had prepared carefully for the dna collection – zip-lock bags,tissues, and pre-printed adhesive labels with the names fromthe graduation photo. rosie insisted that we did not need tocollect samples from those who had not attended thegraduation party, so i crossed out their names. she seemedsurprised that i had memorised them, but i was determinednot to cause errors due to lack of knowledge.

the reunion was held at a golf club, which seemed odd to me,but i discovered that the facilities were largely for eating anddrinking rather than supporting the playing of golf. i alsodiscovered that we were vastly overqualified. there were regularbar personnel who were responsible for preparing the drinks.

our job was merely to take orders, deliver drinks and, mostimportantly, collect the empty glasses.

the hours spent in developing my drink-making skills hadapparently been wasted.

the guests began arriving, and i was given a tray of drinks todis-tribute. i immediately perceived a problem. no name tags!

how would we identify the dna sources? i managed to findrosie, who had also realised the problem but had a solution,based on her knowledge of social behaviour.

‘say to them, “hi, i’m don and i’ll be looking after you thisevening, doctor –” ’ she demonstrated how to give theimpression that the sentence was incomplete, encouraging themto contribute their name. extraordinarily, it turned out to work72.5 per cent of the time. i realised that i needed to do thiswith the women as well, to avoid appearing sexist.

eamonn hughes and peter enticott, the candidates we hadeliminated, arrived. as a family friend, eamonn must haveknown rosie’s115/290profession, and she explained to him that i worked evenings tosupplement my academic income. rosie told peter enticott thatshe did bar work part-time to finance her phd. perhaps theyboth assumed that we had met through working together.

actually swabbing the glasses discreetly proved the most difficultproblem and i was able to get at most one sample from eachtray that i returned to the bar. rosie was having even moreproblems.

‘i can’t keep track of all the names,’ she said, frantically, as wepassed each other with drinks trays in our hands. it wasgetting busy and she seemed a little emotional. i sometimesforget that many people are not familiar with basic techniquesfor remembering data.

the success of the subproject would be in my hands.

‘there will be adequate opportunity when they sit down,’ i said.

‘there is no reason for concern.’

i surveyed the tables set for dinner, ten seats per table, plustwo with eleven seats, and calculated the attendance atninety-two. this of course included female doctors. partners hadnot been invited. there was a small risk that rosie’s father wasa transsexual. i made a mental note to check the women forsigns of male features, and test any that appeared doubtful.

overall, however, the numbers looked promising.

when the guests sat down, the mode of service moved fromprovision of a limited selection of drinks to taking orders.

apparently, this arrangement was unusual. normally, we wouldjust bring bottles of wine, beer and water to the table, but, asthis was an upmarket function, the club was taking orders andwe had been told to ‘push the top shelf stuff’, apparently toincrease the club’s profits. it occurred to me that if i did thiswell i might be forgiven for any other errors.

i approached one of the tables of eleven. i had alreadyintroduced myself to seven of the guests, and obtained sixnames.

i commenced with a woman whose name i already knew.

‘greetings, dr collie. what can i get you to drink?’

116/290she looked at me strangely and for a moment i thought i hadmade an error with the word-association method i was usingand that her name was perhaps doberman or poodle. but shedid not correct me.

‘just a white wine, thanks.’

‘i recommend a margarita. world’s most popular cocktail.’

‘you’re doing cocktails?’

‘correct.’

‘in that case,’ she said, ‘i’ll have a martini.’

‘standard?’

‘yes, thanks.’ easy.

i turned to the unidentified man beside her and tried the rosiename-extraction trick. ‘greetings, my name is don and i’ll belooking after you this evening, doctor –’

‘you said you’re doing cocktails?’

‘correct.’

‘have you heard of a rob roy?’

‘of course.’

‘well, put me down for one.’

‘sweet, dry or perfect?’ i asked.

one of the men opposite my customer laughed. ‘cop that,brian.’

‘perfect,’ said the man i now knew as dr brian joyce. therewere two brians but i had already identified the first.

dr walsh (female, no transsexual characteristics) ordered amargarita.

‘standard, premium, strawberry, mango, melon or sage andpineapple?’ i asked.

‘sage and pineapple? why not?’

my next customer was the only remaining unidentified man, theone who had laughed at brian’s order. he had previously failedto respond to the name-extraction trick. i decided not to repeatit.

‘what would you like?’ i asked.

117/290‘i’ll have a double-coddled kurdistani sailmaker with a reversetwist,’ he said. ‘shaken, not stirred.’

i was unfamiliar with this drink, but assumed the professionalsbehind the bar would know it.

‘your name, please?’

‘sorry?’

‘i require your name. to avoid errors.’

there was a silence. dr jenny broadhurst, beside him, said,‘his name’s rod.’

‘dr roderick broadhurst, correct?’ i said by way ofconfirmation.

the rule against partners did not apply, of course, to peoplewho were in a relationship with someone from the same class.

there were seven such couples and jenny was predictablysitting beside her husband.

‘what –’ started rod, but jenny interrupted.

‘quite correct. i’m jenny and i’ll have a sage and pineapplemargarita too, please.’ she turned to rod. ‘are you being ajerk? about the sailmaker? pick on someone with your owncomplement of synapses.’

rod looked at her, then at me. ‘sorry, mate, just taking thepiss. i’ll have a martini. standard.’

i collected the remainder of the names and orders withoutdifficulty.

i understood that jenny had been trying to tell rod discreetlythat i was unintelligent, presumably because of my waiter role.

she had used a neat social trick, which i noted for future use,but had made a factual error which rod had not corrected.

perhaps one day he or she would make a clinical or researchmistake as a result of this misunderstanding.

before i returned to the bar, i spoke to them again.

‘there is no experimental evidence of a correlation betweensynapse numbers and intelligence level within primatepopulations. i recommend reading williams and herrup, annualreview of neuroscience.’

i hoped this would be helpful.

118/290back at the bar, the cocktail orders caused some confusion.

only one of the three bar persons knew how to make a robroy, and then only a conventional one. i gave her theinstructions for the perfect version.

then there was an ingredient problem with the sage andpineapple margarita. the bar had pineapple (tinned – the bookhad said ‘fresh if possible’ so i decided that this would beacceptable) but no sage. i headed for the kitchen where theycould not even offer me dried sage.

obviously this was not what the bartender’s companion hadcalled a‘well-stocked bar, ready for any occasion’. the kitchen staffwere also busy, but we settled on coriander leaves and i tooka quick mental inventory of the bar’s ingredients to avoidfurther problems of this kind.

rosie was also taking orders. we had not yet progressed tothe stage of collecting glasses, and some people seemed to bedrinking quite slowly. i realised that our chances would beimproved if there was a high turnover of drinks. unfortunately,i was unable to encourage faster consumption, as i would beviolating my duty as the holder of a responsible service ofalcohol certificate. i decided to take a middle ground byreminding them of some of the delicious cocktails available.

as i took orders, i observed a change in the dynamic of theecosys-tem, evidenced by rosie looking annoyed as she camepast me.

‘table five won’t let me take their order. they want to waitfor you.’

it appeared that almost everyone wanted cocktails rather thanwine.

no doubt the proprietors would be pleased with the profitresults. unfortunately it appeared that staff numbers had beencalculated on the basis that most orders would be for beer orwine, and the bar personnel were having trouble keeping up.

their knowledge of cocktails was surprisingly poor, and i washaving to dictate recipes along with the orders.

the solution to both problems was simple. rosie went behindthe bar to assist while i took all the orders myself. a goodmemory was a huge asset, as i did not need to write anythingdown, or process just119/290one table at a time. i took orders for the whole room, thenrelayed them back to the bar at consistent intervals. if peopleneeded ‘time to think’, i left them and returned rather thanwaiting. i was actually running rather than walking, andincreased my word rate to the maximum that i consideredcomprehensible. the process was very efficient, and seemed tobe appreciated by the diners, who would occasionally applaudwhen i was able to propose a drink to meet a particularrequirement or replayed a table’s orders when they wereconcerned that i might have misheard.

people were finishing their drinks, and i found that i couldswab three glasses between the dining room and the bar. theremainder i grouped together and indicated to rosie as i leftthe tray on the bar, rapidly advising her of the owners’ names.

she seemed a little pressured. i was enjoying myself immensely.

i had the presence of mind to check the cream supplies beforedessert was served. predictably the quantity was insufficient forthe number of cocktails i expected to sell to complement themango mousse and sticky date pudding. rosie headed for thekitchen to find more. when i returned to the bar, one of thebarmen called out to me, ‘i’ve got the boss on the phone. he’sbringing cream. do you need anything else?’ i surveyed theshelves and made some predictions based on the ‘ten mostpopular dessert cocktails’.

‘brandy, galliano, crème de menthe, cointreau, advocaat, darkrum, light rum.’

‘slow down, slow down,’ he said.

i wasn’t slowing down now. i was, as they say, on a roll.