Irn Bru (How I Miss Thee)

When giving up your favourite drink takes you over the edge

The task seemed simple enough, "Gary, I bet you couldn't give up Irn Bru for Lent". Well, challenge accepted. I'm never one to pass on a challenge that I think taxes me. Irn Bru is my life blood - it's what keeps me ginger. More importantly it keeps me sane. Irn Bru makes the world go round. On Ash Wednesday, in February 2013, I gave up the one thing that keeps me going, Irn Bru (as well as all fizzy drinks).

I'd like to say that I'm going off the stuff for life but I know I couldn't do that. So Lent was a close second. For forty days and forty nights, Gary Robert Brown shall drink no more Irn Bru. It's now the fifteenth of March and I'm struggling. I've been thinking of all the good times. Sipping a chilled can of Irn Bru at the summit of the Goatfell in the Isle of Arran; guzzling a sweet cool gallon or two on the way up the three sisters pass in Glencoe or simply rewarding myself between emails with a bottle or two. Irn Bru is my life. It helps define me. I am lost without it.

I had a moment of weakness last weekend. I tried Irn Bru ice cream both days. It tastes NOTHING like Irn Bru. I was happy for not breaking my fast but sad at not getting that kick that I so dearly crave. The good people at BARR have no idea what will hit them at the end of March. I will be back. I will need Irn Bru. I will drink your supplies dry. The ginger is coming. Prepare yourselves Irn Bru. Prepare youselves.