My old weekends? A few hundred cash in hand, easy. Unlimited 4 Roses pours while DJing to a lively 21+ crowd. I loved it. Never a bad time. But honestly, they pale in comparison to the new rituals.
These days, it’s Live at the BBC and Gardening Club on the Sky Glass with my wife. When she heads to bed, it’s a scotch and part of a Bond flick. Tonight’s selection: From Russia with Love. Long-form sounds like work and I’ve had my fill for the week. Here are some scattered thoughts.
Glenmorangie 12 is criminally underrated. As is From Russia with Love.
I’ve just started reading John le Carré, and I’m realising there’s a whole world of literary espionage beyond Fleming. But, Fleming is still the GOAT for obvious reasons.
The Macallan takes a lot of heat in whisky circles. But as a good friend (and colleague) put it: it’s the Rolex of Scotch. Luxury, no-nonsense. If you get it, you get it. If you don’t, you still wish you had a bottle. The Balvenie comes close for me, but no cigar. Literally. I’m off them for a while now that I’ve picked up running again.
Speaking of Rolex, first impressions of the Tudor Heritage Black Bay? Excellent. If “stealth wealth” had a licence to kill, it wouldn’t wear Omega or Rolex. It would wear Tudor. Tough, rugged, and still oozing luxury. I drive a 13-year-old xDrive BMW. I wear lace-up boots daily. Yes, I work in tech, but my cardio is running, kettlebell swings and kickboxing. This one speaks to me.
It’s been a rough week. The Balvenie pour tonight is bigger than expected. But this makeshift date night (Irving Berlin tunes, a solo nightcap and a Bond flick) is the perfect way to move on from the chaos and reset.
Anyway, cheers to stay-in date nights, Bond flicks, and decent whisky.
I’ll see you in the garden on Sunday. The verbena is taking over the flower bed and I’ll need to cut down half of the population to save the poor hydrangeas before they strangle them. Who said you can’t be domesticated and dangerous?