Enjoy. Red or white?
Here I’ve had my last tea of the evening and the washing up and dishwasher loading awaits. Fun times on a Saturday or night!
Tonight, it shall be white wine, from the south of France.
And I am raising a glass to her, as I write.
Actually, my mother didn't much care for wine - neither white nor red, - she drank it more as a sort of social obligation, whereas my dad loved good, rich, smooth (and highly alcoholic) Italian red wine, such as Ripasso, or a good Chianti Reserve - (and she only ever drank beer abroad when on holidays with my father in warm places such as Greece, Turkey, or southern Italy).
Instead, she far preferred vodka, actually, vodka and tonic was her preferred tipple, and sometimes, while relaxed at the week-end, while watching one of her favourite TV programmes, she would ask me (or, I would offer) to prepare one (or two) for her - even in my early teens, I was (and still am) good at the aesthetics of such things, ice, lemon, proper cut crystal glassware, generous quantities, correct proportions, etc - and to prepare some tasty nibbles for her - cheese/cucumber/tomato on crackers, and perhaps some nuts - elegantly served in a small ceramic dish - as well.
She was also partial to a good whiskey in winter.
Decent Brother wrote a lovely tribute to her earlier today which I didn't catch, as I don't frequent the social media that he (occasionally, in fairness, very rarely) frequents or visits; however, a cousin texted me to let me know that her brother (my favourite cousin, whose daughter is autistic, who himself had been in touch with me last week) had forwarded the details to her, having spotted it online. The tangled webs we weave.