Damn but it’s cold out there. Windy too.
I don’t want the railing in the pic, so I build up the table height with my handy dandy collection of rubbermaid stools. We use them as all purpose tables, a suitable height for glasses of sundry fluids while reading on the couch among other things. (I’m not house proud.)
Anyway, the table tilts East. I built up the right side with magazines as wedges. I set up my tripod. Put the whisky on the table with a glass. First shot nails it. I’d rather some sunlight, but it’s a good shot.
The sun comes out a couple of hours later. I set up the shot again. I’m a whole lot faster this time as I know what works. Windy as hell and still cold.
I am focusing the shot when the wind blows the bottle – full as you can see – into the glass and the glass blows off into the abyss. (The ground is about 195ft/60m below). I grab the bottle and the glass bounces off the railing and lands on the magazines so it doesn’t break. God apparently loves whisky drinkers.
The bottle was edge into the wind. My tripod is periodically lifting the offside leg.
I decide to go with the first shot rather than risk taking out some nameless pedestrian… (not to mention spilling more of the precious fluid).
And if you’re curious this is a “buy on sight” whisky. The stuff is amazing. Unbelievable. I can’t say enough superlatives.
Looks glorious! Thanks!
I am finally reading this! (Blame an Inbox stuffed with unwanted flyers…) It’s 2 Nov in Australia and I’ve just started a week-long writing retreat in rural Victoria east of Melbourne. It’s supposed to be Spring here but the last couple of days it’s been cool and really blustery and I wouldn’t mind a wee dram of that scotch on the porch before it blows away…By Sunday it’s going to be in the 30s here: gin and tonic weather. I’ve already visited the village pub: the owner/cook makes a pretty good borscht. But they sell drinks pre-mixed here in little tin cans. So you get your scotch with ginger ale. Lord love a duck!
Today I am envying you your G&T weather… (I’ll email a shot of Toontown as of this second). A local with decent borscht? With a vineyard everywhere you look? And a writing retreat? If that isn’t heaven on earth you need to mortify your flesh some more. (Maybe by reading reviews past of your books?)
And for the record that whisky is as home grown as your most excellent Prodigal Daughter. A fine Canadian product. When you’re through I’ll let you try a snifter.