The dad, who visited us last weekend, brought with him my birthday present. A nice bottle of whiskey. We don’t have alcohol in the house often, but for myself, I am partial to wee dram every now and then, so the present was greatly appreciated. It will probably last until next birthday 🙂
I have been doing some editing tonight of The Spiral Tattoo, and I poured myself a small one, topped off with a little ginger ale. It was a funny thing, but the tickle of alcohol at the back of the throat and in the nose, while tapping away at the keyboard, brought back to me strong memories of my first year at university.
I should at this point confess to having only passed half of my first year at University. It may have something to do with the fact that I wrote most of my assignments the night before they were due, usually while drinking from a bottle of port.
That year, I have strong images of sitting in my room, heater blaring as rain pelted the windows, Vivaldi playing on the stereo, typing assignments and bad poetry on my typewriter, while quietly finishing a bottle of port. What we do as when young. I am sure I thought the alcohol imbued my writing with striking elegance and eloquence. I probably thought my verbose turn of phrase would impress the lecturers no end. I am unsure why the failing grades didn’t dissuade me from that opinion. 😆