When I was a kid I got a dose of the flu, and my stepfather’s
‘remedy’ was a mug of warm milk laced with scotch. It was the foulest thing I
ever tasted. It produced an immediate urge to vomit and put me off warm milk
for life.
Footnotes:
* ‘Water of Life’ is a translation of the Gaelic term from
which ‘whisky’ is derived. On this occasion it has absolutely nothing to do
with the Queen of New York City.
** Blogger’s spell check appears to be ignorant of the fact
that whiskey with an ‘e’ isn’t the only way to spell whisky. It seems the boys
from Google haven’t yet realised that not everybody in that big wide world they’re
trying to take over does things the American way (or even the Irish, come to
that.)
2 comments:
Sorry to appropriate your comments section for my own self-promotion, but I thought you might be interested. The dig has begun again: http://episcopalcemetery.blogspot.com/2014/09/field-days-1-and-2.html
Feel free to appropriate whatever suits your purpose, Maddie. I'll take a look shortly.
But now I'm intrigued as to location. I had images of green clothed walls and hovering helicopters, but nowhere near St Mark's Church.
Post a Comment