The
Changing Whisky Landscape
For many years my drop of choice
was Wilson ’s New Zealand
Not only was it Kiwi-made
and the cheapest available,
but its flavour truly appealed to my taste buds.
When I shifted from the West Side
to Claudelands in 2006,
it was $29.99 for a 750 millilitre bottle
and displayed on a shelf behind the register at about eye level
at Singh’s Kiwi Liquor in the Fairfield
a short walk
from my home.
After they stopped distilling Wilson
and Singh’s supply ran out
they gave me the ‘Wilson
which is now on the wall of my home office.
After that the cheapest whisky was Glen Nevis for a while,
and then, aside from occasional sales, it was Ballantine’s,
which crept up from $31.99 to $34.99 a bottle over time,
occasionally going on sale at the latter price at two for $65,
and taking Wilson
I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Ballantine’s
because it was the first whisky for which I acquired a taste,
back when I was 14 years old
and my mother was away
with my
stepfather in Cuba
The last time I bought whisky
before keying this onto the hard drive and screen
the price of Ballantine’s had gone up,
and full-litre bottles of Dewar’s occupied the place of honour
at $32.99.
Ballantine’s was two shelves down.
Thinking in terms of price, I noted to the clerk
that the whisky landscape had certainly changed.
Thinking in terms of display,
he replied that Ballantine’s had gone down.
Puzzled at first, I replied that no, it’d gone up.
We left it at that.
I think old Mr Singh had sold the place, anyway.
Drinkers Advising Drinkers
I read a series of quotes
by H.L. Mencken and Charles
Bukowski,
both drinkers and both writers,
purporting to be the rules for
drinking.
Bukowski’s, of course, were
much looser.
As someone who both drinks and
writes,
I have no rules or even advice
for others on the subject.
You know what works for you,
and if you don’t, nothing I can
say will enlighten you about that.
One thing, though:
if you like sweet, sugary booze
or sugary sweets with your
booze,
be prepared for nasty
headaches.
Two
Lives
Yes,
grog helps me to endure my solitude,
to
cope with it, live with it,
before
sleep at last brings me dreams
of
being involved with others.
Executive
Decision
It
looked as if another nothing day
was
on its way.
After
considering
putting
some of
the
Drambuie
that
Abbie got me at Duty Free
into
my predawn coffee –
caffè corretto –
I came to the tentative decision
that although no operational barriers,
such as work,
were in place,
drinking all day
really wasn’t worth
the disruption of my
daily modus operandi,
not to mention budget,
so I decided
to wait
until lunch.
The
Price of Price Sensitivity
The week that I composed this
the affordable plonk at the Pak’n Save
was a Chilean cleanskin merlot.
Although it was considerably more fruity than I prefer,
I decided after the first half dozen or so gulps
that this really didn’t matter,
even though I’d had to shudder
after swallowing some of them.
Dirty
Little Secret
I
wouldn’t be so bloody poor
if
I didn’t have to drink
two
bottles
of
the cheapest plonk
that
the Pak’n Save sells
in
order to shorten and survive
the
lonely hours
between
when I get
too
tired to work
and
the onset
of
blessed oblivion.
Not At The Centre
My daily afternoon dates
with wine bottles
have become increasingly
unsatisfactory,
but they’re still better than
sobriety,
which has become increasingly
unbearable.
One rainy Wednesday afternoon
I wondered who was thinking of me
just then,
and concluded that
it wasn’t bloody likely
that anybody was –
certainly not the bottle
of cheap Aussie shiraz
that I was cuddling.
Hard Glass Cuddles
According to the assertively cliché
aphorism,
self-pity sucks,
but when I caught myself
hugging and cuddling
my wine bottle again,
it struck me as an obvious
truth
that I am indeed pathetic,
and no other observer was
present.
