Dear C,

Can't say I have attempted yoga after one too many, mainly because I would never dream of getting up at 5.45 a.m. after a going on a bender, but I do know the vodka and cranberry concoctions at the Club well. In general, I find they only improve my tennis game – or at least my perception of it – and they do lend a certain surreal feel to post-match drinks overlooking the putting green, which will often appear to levitate, after you've imbibed a few. The Club Cosmo is also the only way to survive the post match dinner in the Club dining room. How else could one stand to eat shrimp cocktail and prime rib (yet again) with Biffy, Muffin and Biggles, et al, while still dressed in sweaty tennis whites and shivering in the A/C?

But surely, dear C, the true test of the Club Cosmo's efficacy is its ability to persuade you to go through with your plans to hop in the family minivan and enjoy a fun day out at Ikea. Anyone lucky enough to have enjoyed this experience en famille will know that no-one in their right mind would attempt to embark on a journey that can only result in blood, sweat and the end of your marriage, after you attempt to maneuver Boxes 1, 2 and three into a car that's already teeming with cherubs. And that's even before you attempt to assemble your purchases, and discover that hubby failed to pick up Box number 4. Perhaps Ikea should sell Club Cosmos to go, along with their Swedish meatballs? Isn't that what they mean about drinking responsibly?

P.