31 Days

It's that special month again when the very serious corkscrew is put away in the cutlery drawer and that special pourer gadget that means not a drop of wine is spilt onto the exquisite Irish linen tablecloth is placed reverentially on the gadget shelf.
January is a long, long month dear reader.
Normal service should resume when The Intrepid One pitches up in his Land Rover, fresh from more African Adventures. Predicted arrival date is January 31st.
There are some upsides to this ghastly annual ritual but for the life of me I can't think of one.

Boozing in Church

The choir in which I sing gave a concert at a local hilltop village the other night. Like trembling crack fiends, three of us hard core drinkers huddle in the apse, right behind the altar, as the local Mayor welcomes the choir and addresses the gently snoring audience with a lightning 45 minute speech. We hold our glasses out in gentle supplication as Emilio opens a bottle of his home-made grappa and dispenses what is known as the acqua del coro, the blessed choir water that warms the throat and braces the vocal chords. The suitably cobwebbed and crucifixed Romanish backdrop adds to the sense of delicious sin. And, of course, as an Anglican my sense of pleasure soars heavenwards.