Whiskey

I like whiskey, even though a very good friend of mine, who shall not be named, has told me I am not a true whiskey drinker.  The reason  for this insult is that I told her that I simply cannot drink whiskey when the average night time temperature is a 90 degrees.  In other words, it is bloody hot and sticky here in Israel, and has been so for three months.  She insisted that a true whiskey lover will partake, no matter the weather.

As you know, I live in a retirement community.  One of the more delightful residents - a former South African, and a whiskey drinker, has been rather unwell for some time.  This has been very upsetting, of course to her, but also to those of us who enjoy her company. She has a devoted Philippino attendant who cares for her.  She wheels her and her maltese poodle to the activities, concerts, and lectures, she is able to attend. She wheels her to the garden at sunset, and to the clinic for her medical appointments. 

In the past, when the resident was in a better state she would invite me and another resident  over at 6.00 for a 'drinky.' The attendant would faithfully replenish the ice and make delicious appetisers. These delightful activities have been on hold for quite too long as the woman has been in and out of hospital. 

Recently she has improved somewhat she will call to invite me over, only to call later to cancel.  This week she asked me over for Monday night, then canceled.  Wednesday also was a no go.  However Thursday morning she said to me "it is on tonight for 6, but we won't be a threesome. I have invited a number of people over, but I can't remember who. Come to me at 6, and whenever the bell goes we will see who walks in. I went over at 6. Her wheelchair stroller was parked by the door.   I walked in to see  a couple sitting around the hostess' recliner. He had a tumbler of whiskey, and she had a glass of white wine.  They are an elderly (redundant word) former South African couple.  My hostess' way of introduction was to say I enjoyed whiskey.  I then quoted my friend.  The man said, of course you can drink it in summer, just put in lots of ice. The hostess in her recliner, dog at her feet, held a tumbler of whiskey.  The man poured me a healthy shot and we drank lechaim.  After a knock at the door a very large female resident came into the small apartment  with her stroller. She navigated to a chair, and said "whiskey is mother's milk to me."  I poured her a healthy shot, and the attendant replenished the ice.  The hostess was ready for a second shot.  A short while later another knock  in came a strong Philippina attendant carrying a very frail looking man. He didn't look very good! She propped him on the sofa,  and poured him a whiskey!  Then the man's wife came in walking alone with a cane. She had a glass of wine.  

The man is 100 and was a doctor. His body as I said, is  frail - but his mind seemed fine.  He had left his hearing aids at home, as had some other residents, but after repeated yelling he answered questions to the point, made suggestions, and generally engaged in the conversation which centred around whiskey, medications, and King Charles hugging some paralympic competitors.  That was surprising, because the King is NOT supposed to hug anyone.  From Charles wthe conversation turned on to Winston Churchill who thrived on alcohol and cigars, and the Queen Mother who tippled away at gin and tonics, and also lived to a ripe old age.  Princess Margaret was also a heavy drinker, but she died earlier than the others.  We agreed that being a prime minister of a country at war, or being born to royalty, is a heavy burden, and probably it was eased by alcohol.  We did NOT mention our prime minister.

The hostess was ready for a third, the woman who told us whiskey was mother's milk to her hurried to catch up. The first man there also wanted a third but his wife seemed somewhat averse to the idea, so he said to her "yes dear,"  and didn't have a third.  He told me the secret to a good marriage was two words "yes dear" and it seems to have worked for them. 

The hostess, drank her third, because, after all she didn't have to stand up and get wheeled or push a stroller anywhere.  She looked far better than she has looked in a long while. I suggested she give up her medications and just have whiskey.  This was repeated several times in question form to the frail deaf doctor. Once he heard the suggestion,  he raised his second glass in her direction and said lechaim.  Obviously he concurred.

Anyone ready for a shot?

Single malt for me.