Sunday Night Wine

On Tuesday, I heard someone say on the radio about how they were looking forward to the last day of the Masters and a bottle of red. It was all I could think about afterwards.

Seeing as I am on my Easter break, a bottle of red on a Sunday was fair game. I had spent time cleaning the house only to have Lego strewn back all over the floor. Some might say that is reason enough for a bottle a wine. I cannot say I am a big drinker but there are moments when the right drink is needed. Usually, that is a tea laced with honey. Not on Sunday however. Sunday was for wine.

Rugby is for beer. Writing is sometimes for whisky when I want to feel pretentious. I think we all have those images in our head of when a particular drink might do a job for us. For example, who hasn't walked into summer and wondered when someone will crack open and mix the Pimm's (not me - I can't be bothered with all the cutting and so wait on others to do it)? What about that thought of an alcoholic cream liquor at Christmas time? Or a mulled wine? Or a mulled cider? There are a lot of drinks linked to Christmas in the British psyche come to think of it.

My point is: I had a wine and I didn't regret it. That is the sign of a good drink.