Late Ruminations.

It's the wee small hours of the morning (tautology or not, the phrase is established and not unpleasing.) The 500ml bottle of London Porter (5% ABV and brewed by Shepherd Neame who claim their establishment to be the oldest brewery in Britain, having entered the lists in 1698 - or so it says on the bottle) is consigned to its fate and the first sip of Famous Grouse has been sampled. The revelation is startlingly apparent:

‘How sweet the scotch tastes after the porter.’

Being the sort to think that life is about little if not connections, and the phrase having a certain edge to lift it above the mundane, it occurred to me that this has to be a metaphor for something.  I wonder what. Let’s try:

Out of the strong came forth sweetness.

That’s all about Samson killing the lion and getting honey as a reward, and it’s been printed on every can of Tate & Lyle’s Golden Syrup since time immemorial (which means ‘before I was born.’)

And so I ruminate: is this about alcohol having some sort of connection to the universal power struggle? The meek shall inherit the earth, perhaps. Not convinced. Best have another scotch and see what comes up. This came up (I swear, it just came up. It's another one that appeared mysteriously like ectoplasm in a Victorian drawing room.)

It seems I should drink

To discover the link

While ladies in aspic

Look pretty in pink

Ah, so now we have a connection with gender roles and social stereotyping. More than that, even – with Lady Gaga and the suffragettes, no less. Am I getting somewhere?

I ruminate some more, I drink some more, and I remain unconvinced. I think I should stick with the simple fact that scotch is stronger than porter but also happens to be sweeter before I become too academic and fall over. Time for bed.

I have to go and vote for my next MP tomorrow. It will be the same as the last one, of course. I won’t get my first choice – wrong colour – and there is no second. The Shire is unremittingly blue, and that’s that.