Thank you so much David, I echo chickie, it certainly did feel like you were reading aloud, I was wanting more!!! Home brew dondi!! Lots of mom and dad's rubbing alcohol, banana leaves, seaweed and plenty of excess gas from our family!!!....HAW-HAW-HAWWWWW!!!!! We do gem and it runs the generator after a hurricane!
In his short memoir "A Christmas Memory", Truman Capote is the narrator - but he is just a little boy in the story - and his friend is a distant relative, a little old lady; they are making their holiday fruitcakes:
Of the ingredients that go into our fruitcakes, whiskey is the most expensive, as well as the hardest to obtain: State laws forbid its sale. But everybody knows you can buy a bottle from Mr. Haha Jones. And the next day, having completed our more prosaic shopping, we set out for Mr. Haha's business address, a "sinful" (to quote public opinion) fish-fry and dancing cafe down by the river. We've been there before, and on the same errand; but in previous years our dealings have been with Haha's wife, an iodine-dark Indian woman with brassy peroxided hair and a dead-tired disposition. Actually, we've never laid eyes on her husband, though we've heard that he's an Indian too. A giant with razor scars across his cheeks. They call him Haha because he's so gloomy, a man who never laughs. As we approach his cafe (a large log cabin festooned inside and out with chains of garish-gay naked light bulbs and standing by the river's muddy edge under the shade of river trees where moss drifts through the branches like gray mist) our steps slow down. Even Queenie stops prancing and sticks close by. People have been murdered in Haha's cafe. Cut to pieces. Hit on the head. There's a case coming up in court next month. Naturally these goings-on happen at night when the colored lights cast crazy patterns and the Victrola wails. In the daytime Haha's is shabby and deserted. I knock at the door, Queenie barks, my friend calls: "Mrs. Haha, ma'am? Anyone to home?" Footsteps. The door opens. Our hearts overturn. It's Mr. Haha Jones himself! And he is a giant; he does have scars; he doesn't smile. No, he glowers at us through Satan-tilted eyes and demands to know: "What you want with Haha?" For a moment we are too paralyzed to tell. Presently my friend half-finds her voice, a whispery voice at best: "If you please, Mr. Haha, we'd like a quart of your finest whiskey." His eyes tilt more. Would you believe it? Haha is smiling! Laughing, too. "Which one of you is a drinkin' man?"
Well that explains it chookies, I never put the stopper on the top and it is so potent that the fumes were interfering with your senses which in turn made you PSYCHO DRUNK for one night!!!! That stuff is 190 proof which is almost pure alcohol, 95%. Under the circumstances you are lucky to be coherent today!!! Well it seems we all had fun, so no harm done. For a none drinker you did very well!!
ROBBIE - what did you put in that moonshine?? Phew, was that potent or what!! I don't know how much I drank but it certainly knocked me for a six!! I can't remember too much about the sleigh ride but I guess it was fun!! - anyway, I've had a good night's sleep and I'm feeling as bright as a button this morning. You know the funny thing about all this, Robbie, I'm a NON DRINKER!!! I DO NOT DRINK!!!
Robbiel, I would say take 2 apsrin and call me in the morning....ha, ha,
but actually! FYI. This works for me, drink a SMALL bottle (serving size or an 8 oz glass) of Gatorade. It does wonders for a hangover, if you want to kill a headache.
Graci and Robbos, plenty for you!!
YO I should have explained better. Jenny and I were born and have always lived in Bermuda. My aunt (mother's sister) married a Scot (uncle Jimmy) during WWII and moved to Pitlochry with him and I stayed with them during my holidays from boarding school. I also visited them after on holidays. I have lots of friends in the area and Alan Robertson is a good friend. My cousin's family have a farm above Blair Atholl just up the road from Pitlochry, they have 95 Highland Cattle and 700 Ewes wandering around the foot of the Highlands. The cold never bothered me, their houses were heated so high and windows and doors all shut up. Aunt Betty gave me a water bottle, loads of blankets and the radiator turned up! I threw out the bottle, threw off blankets, shut the radiator off and opened my window!! I can't stand heat!! Hope you get back some day.
Plenty of coffee Shirley and chookies and friends emptied the jug tonight!!
Decoration Jacques old mate with pretty young sisters!
Keep on laughing PLG.
Oh Mimi, we will send you some, sip slowly, don't guzzle like chookies!
I did that gem, that's why I'm 62 and still living with mom and dad!!!!!
I'm waiting for you PG, I was wondering how you were.
Drink up and enjoy it all santorris!!
chug-a-lug SMor, grape wine in a mason jar!! Great song.
It's never too late, Mimi. Go on a trip away from all those who know and love you and be whomever you want to be...at least until the money runs out! LOL
Wow, after seeing what goes into your 'Moonshine' I think I'll stay with you coffee, Thanks Robbie. The Moonshine bottle is empty, Did chookies drink it all ?
That is amazing! What a small world. I remember the red door and the round steel mash container on the ground floor and the ammonia vat but did not stick my head in it. Our guide was one of the younger ones. It is amazing that you worked there along with your uncle. I can indeed Jenny fighting back. Is she also from the UK?
I do recall the sweet little stream running through the property. Seems like everyone in Scotland knows to catch fresh fish be it in streams or lochs.
We did check out Robertson's in Pitlochry. The collection is incredible. Our group of four even joined the Scotch Malt Whiskey Society in Leith for a year so we could taste some of their whiskies. Wish I could return--especially in summer.
He'll be online shortly, Robbie - but there's no need to worry!! No, I'd just finished reading an email from him and I guess he was still on my mind. Now that I feel like a real idiot, I'm getting stuck into the moonshine....what you say, heft it on my shoulder and chug away....shute, I'm glad my bed's still warm!!
I think you did get stuck chookies and I'm getting a little worried that Robbos might come gunning for me!!!! Plenty of glasses or just heft it on your shoulder and chug away!!
Good PKH, yes she will!
Just for looks bookish!
Thanks PK, will do.
YO what a coincidence. Yes it is the smallest and I worked there! My uncle worked in the distillery most of his working life and lived in the cottage just above the entrance . I was in boarding school in North Wales and Norfolk and spent my Christmas and Easter holidays right there in Balnauld with him. Remember the round steel mash container on the ground floor? I would shovel the mash through the window outside and the farmers would haul it away for the cattle. Remember the round vat upstairs with the ammonia smell? Did you stick your head in and take a deep breath? Did you have an old volunteer guide showing you around? Well Jenny punched him when she got her head out and scared the other tourists!! Then she punched me for not telling her what happened!! Great fun! Remember the little stream running through the property? (Wee Burn.) I used to catch little trout there and cook them. Did you go down into Pitlochry and drop into Robertson's shop? He has one of the most complete stocks of single malt whiskies in Scotland. Sorry, you brought back so many fond memories, I better take a break, I could go on and on. So glad you saw Edradour.
Hi Tex, you really believe a week? The cleaver? Hee-Hee!
Walking in the moonshine, no smelly feet! You should write a song Hanne, thanks for the link, I left a comment.
I have an idea that if you want to talk about walking in the moonlight, you can't say - oh of course you CAN but - walking in the moonshine?!! If you do you'll never have smelling feet I think!!
Wonderful! This should stop the whining for at least a week. And I think the "clever" could be used if someone tries to sneak a swig of the moonshine! You could lose a hand easily.
Nice taste in scotch! The Edradour is the smallest distillery in the country or was touted so at one time. Lovely place, I had the honor of a tour on special day. This is a fun puzzle. Thank you.
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