Quite often in our lives words are inadequate.
That is when one must resort to firewater and, while it is slicing coldly down one's throat, silently send a thank you into the evening. It splits two ways, 8,000 miles to the south east and 3,000 to the west, heading to my mother and father in Cape Town, presumably asleep under the dome of Table Mountain, and to a wave-lapped shore in British Columbia, where the sun has not even begun to set. So, to the three of you, thank you. And right now to one especially. Dankie Pa.
I drank a gin martini, because two of you don't like vodka, and I know that Number Three is game for anything. Once.
See, that's the difference: the gin martini slices down your throat while the Greygoose one glides its way down. But yeah, anything once. :)
ReplyDeleteHmmm, Greygooooose :-)
ReplyDelete