The coffee-roasting machine at Ishmael is going full blast and the busy smell drifts across the pavement.
In a telephone kiosk, abandoned on the shelf beside the phone, is an empty bottle of Irish Meadow. What is a Irish Meadow? According to the label, " A smooth blend of fresh cream with white wine and Irish whiskey."
Pondering my life so far, I say to myself this morning, that I have been wrong more often than I have been right, and that I have been fortunate to reached the present more or less intact. In fact, were I to need a motto I can think of nothing better than Muddle Through
2 - Whatever happened to not mixing the grain and the grape?
What indeed? A strange concoction! Not for me.
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