Mark,
Whenever I smell gin, I alway think it would probably make a good paint stripperURGHHH!! 
But having said that 
If it does it for you!
Well! Keep on Rockin`:twisted:
vic
Bombay Sapphire… now that’s one to steer well clear of if there’s no vowel in the month! Mmmn, mmnn. I’ll quaff the odd measure or two, when I’m away from the malt. Whisky has my vote though, be it Highland Park, Talisker, Lagavulin, Laphroaig… whisky without an ‘e’, thank you. Peaty rather than sherried, Islay rather than Speyside… Oh dear me - would that my wallet could keep up with my taste.
Judders you dirty beast!
That lot`s almost erotic 
Calm down!
I cant handle that kind of talk, first thing in the morning, its got me all a dither
Now, do behave yourself
Take care,
Jameson oops! sorry! I mean
Vic
I should just mention, for the benefit of those poor souls yet to discover the delights of Scotland’s finest, that Highland Park is not an Islay malt. It heralds from Orkney and is, in this mere sassanach’s opinion, the greatest all-rounder in the history of distillation.
TRUE HORROR STORY FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE
. Chapter 5: Conclussion
Yknow when your boyfriend/girlfriend; wife/husband; civil partner/regular one night stand (wotsat?), elbows you out of their life, they automatically assume the mantle of biggest bitch /bastard that ever slithered forth from the primal swamp. Until, that is, a well meaning, sympathetic and like minded friend, agrees with you, and voices that opinion. Whereupon, you round on said friend, and alienate them for life, with more vitriol than you ever spat at those responsible for the original generation of vitriol, in the first place! Theres probably a,Society For the Lifelong Alienated, somewhere out there.
Its like that with little Buddy, only, nobody else knows about him, or…knew. Except for Lilly of course, my cat and you cant really count her,…she`s female; as fickle as hell (oops! Better be careful what I say down here). It behoves me therefore, in fairness to Buddy, and indeed myself, to speak in his favour, since, he was nothing if not the product of my Id; a peevish response, from deep within, to the super ego frustrated, wholly irrational desire, for attainment of the unattainable.
The short of it is, the little guy was only doing his job. His job description, penned, deep inside, by yours truly.
You know something! And this is whats screwing me up. When yslam a couple of words on the page, that seem to work(at least for you), and you think,â€
Hey Vic, rock, as they say, on. 8) 8) 8)
H
Well, that comes as a surprise …
I read a lot of stuff, I do reviews on books for public radio, I’m a jury member for writing competitions and honestly, vic, most of the stuff I that gets printed isn’t half as good as your ramblings on these forums. Maybe the whole canal story and it’s synopsis aren’t the right topic, the right way of writing for you. But please don’t give up on writing. I would honestly love to read a book written by you one day. Please.
Best,
j.
I hear my name, I pop up to preen.
miaow?
Ditto! 
Seems hardly sporting old chap. Depriving the masses of such inane, yet joyful, drivellings. Stiff upper lip and all that.
Either way, whatever you choose Vic, enjoy yourself.