Diary of an Edinburgher

By LadyMarchmont

Another cupboard laid bare

Uncle A does not need me today, so I am whizzing on with packing. I have to remember to pack the box at the place it’s going to sit, as I hurt my back trying to move a few once they were full.

All the china from the lounge china cabinet is packed or gone to the auction. I opened the cupboards below. Full of bottles of alcohol. You name, it’s there. And it’s not mine, it’s untouched since my father died in 2002. He loved whisky, and prided himself in being able to offer visitors a range of Single Malts. At any time of the day. I once heard a workman in the house about 10am - he was here to fix something - and I heard my father offer the man a cup of tea, or would he rather have a whisky?

When I came back to live here, he declared that my hospitality skills were sadly lacking, as I only ever offered visitors wine - red or white (also tea or coffee, of course). Especially to gentlemen visitors. He thought this was an insult. Real men didn’t eat quiche drink wine. I think the word 'sissy' was mentioned. We had many heated arguments discussions about this.

One day, I found this note for me listing what was in the grog cupboard. It’s faded now, but I kept it and came across it again amongst the old photos. It listed the % proof, and how full the bottle was (⅜ anyone?). The Titoki (a liqueur from NZ, made from titoki berries - not nice) was his second bottle. He loved it (and loved NZ) and made all (his) visitors have a wee nip.

The photo is one he took of one of his ‘afternoon teas’ when he lived here on his own. He was in Gaelic language classes, and so had visitors round for meetings quite frequently. This meeting obviously had some ladies present, and as a concession, cake, chocolate biscuits and sweeties were added, cups and saucers laid out. Five glasses but only four cups. I'm guessing he was skipping the tea! But the main event was the display of whiskies and the partaking thereof. He was obviously quite pleased with his efforts and recorded it for posterity.

I don't blame him taking comfort in whisky - he had almost 20 years of long evenings as a widower.

Anyway, I’ve just packed one plastic container with bottles of alcohol. I'll need another one as well. I suppose I could use it up on a big housewarming party.

Note the last sentence, ‘Plus, of course, Whisky in my (bed)room’.

Of course.

Cheers!


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