Cocktail hour

…Or rather, afternoon.

Having less gumption (good word) than the Bard, I’m afraid that ‘injurious distance did stop my way’ at the weekend. In contemplating my footballing options, I did, as the gaffer says “follow the data.”
• St Albans to Weston Super Mare, 150 miles (give or take; depending on whether you use the M4 or A40 & M5, satnav fans).
• St Albans to Newcastle, 260 miles.

Call me not very hardcore but neither seemed very appealing. Only one thing for it. Stay home. Roast some lamb with a bucket load of garlic (dunno if there is a collective noun for garlic cloves but I quite like the idea of it being ‘a whiff’), follow my teams on twitter and oh I don’t know, invent a cocktail…Yep armed with citrus fruit, fizz, spirits (various), some dubious elderflower liquor, ice, mint and random juices, the drinking world was my whelk.

Various concoctions were invented, stirred, tasted, rejected and some were roundly laughed at before they even made it into the glass…BUT after some consultation with a Mr TLF focus group of one, the outcome of which was of course ignored by the bar fox, my official LOST FOX cocktail was born:
• 1 generous measure gin
• Splash fresh squeezed lime
• Glug of apple and ginger juice (Christ I sound like Jamie Oliver)
• Top up with Prosecco
• DRINK

In the time it took all that mixing and drinking and roast lamb eating to take place, the mighty Saints had secured 3 points, the Foxes were becoming unstuck at Newcastle after a delayed kick off and Mr TLF was relieved he hadn’t wasted his hard earned on a treble (of the betting rather than boozing kind).

By the way I should say that when Stratford’s finest was talking about ‘injurious distance’ I can’t be totally sure he was talking about ye olde worlde away day travel issues of the time.

Shaken not stirred Fox

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