Never Left It

According to some idiot (no link because TIME magazine, fukkem):

It’s Time to Go Back to the Joy of Social Drinking

As pandemic lockdowns ease and we return to ordinary life rhythms, the revival of social drinking should be embraced with euphoric gusto. The shared experience of music, happy chatter, effortlessly synchronized conversation, rising endorphin levels, and reduced inhibitions catalyzed by a few glasses of ethanol has been impossible to replace with Zoom chats, and it is something we’ve been desperately missing. Let us look forward to once again celebrating the ancient, distinctly human joy of sharing a pint or two among friends.

Yeah, I suppose he means something like this:

…this:

…this:

…or even this:

Hate to say it, buddy, but that’s the way I always drink and no, I didn’t stop during the Covidiocy.

Tradition

Sod off, Swampy.  Trying to stop la famille du Toit  from getting together at this time of year would take a company of Marines, and even that might not work.

We do Christmas meals a little differently from most people.  It’s too long a back story to tell now, but basically, we stagger our Christmas meals so that various of the family members can visit with their in-laws, girlfriends’ / boyfriends’ parents on Christmas Day.

So Christmas Day is always devoted to an early-morning present-opening ceremony, followed by a Full English breakfast:

…after which the kids scatter to the four winds.

That was yesterday.

Today is Boxing Day (in Britishland), which is when the family comes back to our place for a proper Christmas dinner (roast beef with Yorkshire pudding):

That will be this evening… and I’m still full from yesterday.

Have mercy.

Question

Longtime Reader Sean F. sent me this, and wondered if I’d ever tried it:

My reply was unprintable, even for this website.  Gin-flavored tea — i.e. adding a sniff of gin to a cup of Yorkshire Gold — might be acceptable in cases of dire emergency (although rum is far better).  But a tea-flavored gin?

The fact that they chose the floral Earl Gray — tea of people who don’t know much about tea but are seduced by the ersatz  class of the name — says it all.  Revolting.