"Shall we try the new gin?" I asked.
"Which one?" came the reply from the kitchen.
"The one my sister sent me for Christmas."
I could hear the sound of cupboards being opened and shut, then, "The Boatyard?"
"Yes. Is my glass on the draining board?" I was proud of that glass. It was a tulip-stem glass that I had purchased from a shop somewhere in North Carolina. The glass in question was meant to be used for sweet ales and IPAs, but I had found it made the perfect gin and tonic. Fill the glass up to its widest point with gin, then top it off with tonic water. I had tried to explain the concept to the barman at the hotel I was staying in at the time, but he didn't seem to understand. So, I had taught him to make pink gins instead.
"Yes. It is," came the answer. "What do you want with your gin?"
I thought for a moment. My sister knew my tastes in alcohol quite well, but this would be my first taste of the Boatyard. "Get some water from the bottle in the fridge."
"Alright. Come and get it when you're ready."
It took a couple of minutes to finish what I was doing. When I entered the kitchen, my glass was on the worktop by the sink, the bottle of Boatyard gin beside it. I picked up the glass and took a sip. The gin was flat.
"Hey!" I called out. "I thought I told you to use the water in the fridge!"
The answer echoed down from upstairs: "I did."
I opened the refrigerator door. There was indeed a bottle of spring water in there, exactly where I had put it the night before. I took it out and checked the label. Under the bottler's mark, in small letters, was the word 'still'. I sighed.
"My bad!" I called back, and took another sip of gin.
