It will not surprise you to know that in my world, there is
a gin for every different mood.
Today’s mood is autumn.
It is brittle and bright and still largely blue-green, but where the
trees meet the sky there are comfort colours like sweetcorn and
pumpkin and orange rind and nutmeg. And
then the sun goes in, and the blue-green turns pewter and the nutmeg becomes
leaves like rattlesnake scales rasping the colour from the pavements. And then it is time for gin.
So a brittle-bright blue-green gin is Hendricks®, which you
pour over green-green cucumber, so I was taught: and you use plenty of cucumber
so that it lasts through the top-ups because once you are on your third G&T
you may not be able to locate the cucumber let alone slice it.
Hendricks comes in a brown bottle that looks like something
from the alchemist’s shelves, like it ought to contain potassium permanganate rather
than fresh cucumber green and tin. It is
always a good idea to keep your gin in something that reminds people of
chemistry practicals: you will never have to share it.
Not that there is much left to share.
If the above seems uncharacteristically lyrical, it is
because I am using a paint brochure as a coaster and whenever I lift my drink
(which is often) I get inspired by interesting colour names. The brochure does not actually mention the
colour green-green, but after a gin or three it seems a perfectly sensible tonal
combination, all things considered. No
chance of clashing. Just green on green,
two greens, double the greeniness. I think
perhaps it is time to go to bed and watch the clocks go back.
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