Quiet please, I'm thinking.
Happiness comes in all forms, and at the oddest of times too. Today, several weeks after my birthday and I don’t know how many weeks since I bewailed the lack of uisce beatha, much to my surprise there came a parcel from Devonshire. Even the name of the place produces comforting imagery; elves dancing, gnomes fishing, Hobbits, er, hobbitting. Inside said parcel were three little bottles of Glenfiddich; 12, 15 and 18 years old. Happiness in liquid form.
Now, I wouldn’t like to consider myself one who rejoices at the misfortune of others, nor would I be delighted to think I am one who overplays the good fortune of myself but, well, in a nutshell, tough titties non-whiskey recipient types. There are some little bottles of soda in my fridge which I shall mix with the heretofore celebrated whiskey (taking some time to feel like a giant holding miniature bottles of both) and I can’t think of a better way to spend my evening. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration, but for the purposes of this post that is certainly as much as I should say.
In conclusion, good friends sending a surprise parcel of three bottles of whiskey make this wandering Mick an all round happy chappy. Now, to finish those potato cakes I was making.