My love of Whisky

The warmth I knew

As winter days and nights go, the joys of central heating could be such fun to keep warm. Like my apartment in Amsterdam where the insulation and heating was such that one could traipse around the rooms naked without a care in the world.

This was fun until the very last few months when the clatter of my teeth was the makings of an industrial machine, the warmth had left with impending departure.

One desperately tries to keep as warm as possible in England; thermal underwear, scarfs, leg-length socks, sturdy shoes with all-weather grip soles and leather gloves.

My love of Whisky

This time, I have a companion, his name is Whisky, he stays close, offers amazing warmth, lying on my chest, or grabbing my sides in such intimate embrace that no winter night goes without the love.

Flamboyant in dress, receptive in gifts, many a pain he has soothed almost better than a masseuse, deft and dainty, professional and knowing how to knead those achy parts.

He head is screwed on, yet his dexterity feeds my imagination with utility I cannot demand of any other friend. He can’t be shaken and he melts the ice, such is his warmth that is quite hotter than Adonis at the first touch.

I love you Whisky, never leave my side.