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Two skinny J's
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The perfect pour. Exactly to the rim and not one drop over the edge :)
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“Tommy, I don’t drink much whiskey.” I offer as a glass of steaming Green Spot and water is placed in front of me.

“Just like ye can’t pick a winner on the track?” He says with a laugh that I know has made many girls fancy him. Truth is it would have worked on my own self a few years ago.

A gentle rain wets a street that can be seen beyond a wooden doorway where many a men have stumbled since it’s construction sometime in the early 1700’s. A proverb hangs to my left and a faded flag of green and orange and white above my head. Near the barman hangs a portrait of a man who hang by the hand of the crown that oversaw this land for man years. A poem to its right tells of the fight and how a republic came to be. I’m the only one present without a brogue.

Tommy laughs at his own jokes with an innocence. He smiles sideways at me and says, “All me brought with me is me wits, can ye get the next round.”

I smile and offer some Euros to the table that I know won’t get spent. He has money and wants only to make me laugh. In a moments time he’s done it with remarks about the French.

A lemon with cloves floats lazily on the hot spirits. Flavour explodes on my tongue just before my belly warms. It’s not heaven nor hell but someplace near in between where the two collide. It’s smooth like the way a line slips between fingers when cast properly and warm like early August sun on a glistening river. It makes me instantly miss my father. He would love this cup of hot whiskey.

Tommy fake sneezes and I offer blessings. He laughs and points at me. “Did ye throw this at me?” He asks trying to look angry. He’s somehow takin’ a drink coaster and tore it in a manner in such a way as to attach it to his nose. It’s truly swift how fast he’s done it and shockingly real looking. I laugh in the way a smitten school girl would and feel embarrassed. Until I notice everyone around me is in stitches.

My coat feels light on my shoulders as I step into a cold night’s drizzling rain. I’m definitely not sober but my feet are steady. I hum a song from my childhood making my way across street past a giant Christmas tree to the door of the place I stay. A glance over my shoulder shows Tommy watching from the door to ensure I make safe passage home.

From my third floor window before sleep takes hold I watch the street and listen to the sounds from the pub on it’s other side. Laughter makes me smile coming from the humble doorway of the tavern.

Being alone isn’t always lonely. Or maybe that’s the whiskey talking.

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Tommy wondering if I threw that at him.

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Hot whiskey on a cold Irish night betting on ponies that may or may not come in.
 

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Two skinny J's
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@Merlincustom two doubles of Larceny with ginger ale at dinner tonight… sorry no pics. Just know it was good .)
 
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Two skinny J's
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Home waiting for family to get in for the holiday
 

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Two skinny J's
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“Tommy, I don’t drink much whiskey.” I offer as a glass of steaming Green Spot and water is placed in front of me.

“Just like ye can’t pick a winner on the track?” He says with a laugh that I know has made many girls fancy him. Truth is it would have worked on my own self a few years ago.

A gentle rain wets a street that can be seen beyond a wooden doorway where many a men have stumbled since it’s construction sometime in the early 1700’s. A proverb hangs to my left and a faded flag of green and orange and white above my head. Near the barman hangs a portrait of a man who hang by the hand of the crown that oversaw this land for man years. A poem to its right tells of the fight and how a republic came to be. I’m the only one present without a brogue.

Tommy laughs at his own jokes with an innocence. He smiles sideways at me and says, “All me brought with me is me wits, can ye get the next round.”

I smile and offer some Euros to the table that I know won’t get spent. He has money and wants only to make me laugh. In a moments time he’s done it with remarks about the French.

A lemon with cloves floats lazily on the hot spirits. Flavour explodes on my tongue just before my belly warms. It’s not heaven nor hell but someplace near in between where the two collide. It’s smooth like the way a line slips between fingers when cast properly and warm like early August sun on a glistening river. It makes me instantly miss my father. He would love this cup of hot whiskey.

Tommy fake sneezes and I offer blessings. He laughs and points at me. “Did ye throw this at me?” He asks trying to look angry. He’s somehow takin’ a drink coaster and tore it in a manner in such a way as to attach it to his nose. It’s truly swift how fast he’s done it and shockingly real looking. I laugh in the way a smitten school girl would and feel embarrassed. Until I notice everyone around me is in stitches.

My coat feels light on my shoulders as I step into a cold night’s drizzling rain. I’m definitely not sober but my feet are steady. I hum a song from my childhood making my way across street past a giant Christmas tree to the door of the place I stay. A glance over my shoulder shows Tommy watching from the door to ensure I make safe passage home.

From my third floor window before sleep takes hold I watch the street and listen to the sounds from the pub on it’s other side. Laughter makes me smile coming from the humble doorway of the tavern.

Being alone isn’t always lonely. Or maybe that’s the whiskey talking.

View attachment 53797
Tommy wondering if I threw that at him.

View attachment 53795
Hot whiskey on a cold Irish night betting on ponies that may or may not come in.
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I felt like i was there. I know i wish i was.
 

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Two skinny J's
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