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There certainly still seems to be a 'bravado' among men, alcohol-wise: an almost gladiatorial approach to 'competitive' drinking in the City, for instance. Walk the streets around Monument or Broadgate of an evening and despite the cold, the pavements are frequently thronged with traders and bankers toasting their latest deal. Ditto, up the Shard and the Heron Building. Women, meanwhile, are damned if they join in - an inebriated woman is vulnerable, at best, to sexual overtures from co-workers - but damned if they don't. 'She's no fun,' is generally the condemnation-of-choice. No wonder it's tempting to cave in and chalk another bottle of Cristal up, on the Amex.

When the hangovers kicked-in big-time, I realised that partying, and over-indulging in alcohol generally, was affecting my work, my finances (it's all too easy, if not downright sensible, to hail a cab to take you half-way across town when you're unsteady on your feet), probably my skin and hair - and went teetotal for the whole month. Most people, of course, do this in January, after the festive season. Much, much savvier to do it in December, and side-step the risk of doing something which could permanently damage colleagues' respect for you.

Many, many dry Decembers later, having tried all manner of alcohol substitutes which didn't make me feel like I was making a major sacrifice, I've settled on tonic water, lime juice and Angostura bitters (OK, so there's a teensy bit of alcohol in there, but not enough to have any impact), topped up with ice. Everyone just assumes there's gin in there, too. Failing access to a 'Virgin Pink Gin', fizzy water. (Plain water just feels too - well, plain boring.)

More than that: at that point I also decided to go alcohol-free from Sunday lunchtime to Friday night. (But oh, that first slug of Juniper Green goes down a treat, at 6.30pm on Fridays). I figured I needed every synapse to fire properly in order to string a sentence together - and to be able to keep track of projects in a way that's near-impossible with a fuzzy head. It's incredibly easy to stick to, actually: it's just what I do. (The one exception: for a week-night wedding anniversary, I might split a quarter bottle of Moet with my husband, in two sherry glasses. Oh, we know how to live...)

^{Some women try to match men pint-for-pint}

It avoids having to apologise to anyone I've offended, either intentionally or unintentionally. And it avoids being the butt of office jokes (I'm sure they've got plenty of other things to talk about behind my back, but it's not going to make me hang my head in shame) - because my experience is that co-workers don't have short memories: you'll be the hot topic of conversation till something more interesting comes along. Which might be months.

This probably is still an area of inequality, however. Shouldn't women be able to be 'one of the boys', alcohol-wise, without being judged? Probably. But cleverer, I still think, to survive the minefield of office parties by bypassing the booze, maintaining your decorum - and not waking up to find your entire team whispering behind your back. Or - worse - that the professional ladder you're climbing has, however unfairly, turned overnight into a greasy pole.