Hello there,

There's no colder gaze than that of an oncologist who is ensuring that you have really understood what she has said.

A leading proponent of taking tobacco out of public life — sponsorship, investment portfolios, advertising — this clinician had been calmly taking her audience through her mission, outlining in exacting detail the effects of tobacco use that she saw in her patients.

But now the talk was over, and the session was breaking for post-event drinks. We were leaving the lecture hall together, when she dropped her little cluster bomb on me: "You know that for women in particular, every single drink you have raises your risk of cancer?" She levelled her gaze at me to make sure that I understood, as I drew my eyes away from the sparkling trays of sparkling wine and back to her.

"Every. Single. Drink. Remember that," and with that she was off – to get a drink.

I've been thinking a lot about that doctor as something very odd has stolen over me during the last few months — a fading desire to drink any alcohol at all. It’s not deliberate: I’ve never been one for the Feb Fast or Dry July. I've never had the self-discipline, and the siren call of a Campari and orange juice on a hot February evening has been one I never wanted to resist. 

But something fundamental has shifted – and for no reason that I can identify: I just don't want the taste anymore. I mix myself a cocktail, take a sip and pour the rest down the sink. I steal a mouthful of my husband’s beer – and I’m done. I might have one drink – but rarely any more.

Mind you it comes and goes: a chance encounter with an old friend recently led to a glass of champagne and many laughs and hugs and that felt about right. But the great Australian post-work ritual of a glass of cold white wine is dead in this house. And I'm not sure who or what killed it. But I suspect that cheerful oncologist gave me the gun.

The point she was making was one I had no idea about: that two drinks a day raises a woman's cancer risk by 5 per cent. That’s believed to be in part because alcohol consumption has been associated with higher oestrogen levels in the body which can influence the risk of breast cancer. As young women, we Australians also have a lamentable habit of binge and even blackout drinking, which causes acetaldehyde to build up and drives a truck through our DNA.

Back then, that chance conversation did not change my drinking habits at all, even while I never forgot it – a clear example of leading a horse to water. But it stayed within me like a damaged cell, and it might just be metastasising into a most unexpected lifestyle change.

I perceive something of an urgency around this issue. We report here on the deeply worrying rise of colorectal cancers among young Australians, and the link between colon cancer and alcohol is powerful. Combined with increased sugar and fat intakes from processed and fast food, the alcohol intake of young people is evidently creating a deadly triumvirate.

Late last year the New York Times reported on the emerging drinking habit that is even more alarming than the well-established binge-drinking that we share. It’s called "high-intensity drinking": consuming eight or more drinks in a row for women, or ten or more for men. According to US data from the Alcohol Research Group, its frequency among men 30 and older and women 18-64 (pretty much all of us) has increased. While young people were bingeing less the data found middle-aged people were drinking more per session.

But is it changing? I’ve never known a time when alcohol-free drinks, wine, spirits and mocktails have been so popular, prevalent and easily sourced, and when saying no to a drink at an event is such a non-event. (I was once one of those hosts pressuring you to "c'mon, just have one" something for which I am deeply ashamed.)

With a culture change that significant other changes are inevitable: health surely one of them. I can't see an end to the Australian booze and binge culture yet, but I seem to be escaping the slipstream. And that has to be good for me.

This weekend, apart from cancer wakeup calls, you can find love in the bush and fulfil the latent sheep farmer in you: you know you want to when Sam Neill makes it look this good.

Have a safe and happy weekend and with Kylie back in town on a joyous home victory lap, let’s raid the vault. Her fan base has divided over “indie” Kylie, but I was always a huge fan: she can bring the Vegas energy this weekend but I’ll slip you some chill.

Go well.