Thanks all. Hearing from people who can relate to these odd experiences is such a boost, I have a big grin on my face right now.
A big part of the past few days has been trying to surpass the lonely feeling of making the decision to stop and coming to terms with it. Yet coming on here and seeing likeminds, and also recognising that the lonely feeling can be explained as a technique of the AV is making me realise that the drinking itself (for me anyway) was "oh woe is me and my amazing tragedy", whereas the whole point for me is I don't want to see that I no longer want that to be the defining me. Just as I mock pictures of me from the mid-90s looking moody with my centre-parting and ludicrously baggy jumper, now I want to mock the part of me that thinks a drink can actually remedy anything other than the desire to vanish ever so slightly up my own arse (massive understating of how far I could get up there after a week of red wine).
Artful - "The only thing missing was the 2 lit cigarettes." Ha, before I stopped smoking that was also a speciality. Some mornings I'd come downstairs and find three or four barely smoked ciggies in various places. Maybe one precariously balanced on the fireplace, one upside down in the little removable disc thing in the middle of my record player, one on the edge of a beer can... I would generally take one of those as my cue to spark the ciggy and kick back with the remainder of the beer can too, trying not to retch on the ash or butt-end floating around in there.