An old mate from Milan, Sergio, was chucked-out of his favourite bar for the very last time this afternoon at five o'clock Italian time. He was a classic boozer, often funny, sometimes out of order, unpredictable, subject to violent mood swings but most of all always extremely generous. When he drank he really attacked the glass, his mouth curling back into a sneer as he downed a glass of wine. It was Sergio who bought a bottle of Pedro Ximenez sherry to go with pudding at a dinner a couple of summers ago. It dates from a 1927 Solera. I liked it so much, he insisted we have another one. And this is the bottle. He died of course from cirrhosis. Time's up Sergio. Let us other bastards get to the bar. And you lot raise a glass to Sergio. A boozer's boozer.
