Fifty-six years after the break-up
with my only female lover in Copenhagen
(who, astonishingly to me, took up with my 'best friend'),
I am still puzzling over what it was
that she found inadequate in me.
It was probably my blithe and aimless
immaturity.
Yesterday -
after reading two books set in 1930s USA -
I drank a Dry Martini for the first time in my life.
From the various recipes on the internet
I made it from 6 parts
of cold junipery gin, one part of
cold Noilly Prat vermouth,
and an olive (since I didn't have a lemon)
plus a couple of ice cubes.
It was quite pleasant, but I'd prefer
a glass of cold, light, dry white wine,
such as the local Gaillac Perlé.
I don't think I'll bother trying a Manhattan,
a Gimlet, Twister or Thunderbird.
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