Traditions

Aren't I lucky? A shelf full of Bucky

During these strange times, you often find yourself doing things to fill up the day.  Stuff that you would never normally do and that others would find quite peculiar.  Such as making a jewellry box out of laser-cut plywood, or recording Gene Pitney's hits onto cassette tape, or doing group video chats while consuming unwise amounts of whisky.  Such is life when there a no pubs to go to, and no immediate sign of there being so in the near future.

For me, the past two weeks have been like this - get up, go to work, stay there till Midnight (for maximum social distancing), go home, eat, have a few beers and go back to bed.  The thing about this routine, is you have very little to look forward too at the end of the week.  Basically, it's the same as a work day, only without the work.

And as such, you try to find the smallest thing about your old life to hang onto.  With me, it will be Buckfast Sunday.  Let me explain - every Sunday at 3pm, myself and few other regulars at a local micropub have a glass of the infamous Buckfast Tonic wine.  Like all the best traditions, nobody really knows how it started (or even how a craft beer focused bar ended up stocking notorious Ned juice). 

We've all sent out the Twitter messages to each other saying we've got the stuff in (I ordered 4 bottles from the Whisky Exchange to make the postage worthwhile) and we're all chilling them ready for tomorrow's online Bucky sharing.  Daft, I know.  But it's the little things that remind you the most of better times.

If anyone else has Bucky in, you're welcome to join us.  And if you end up wreckin' the hoose after you've drunk a whole bottle, it will at least give you something different to do afterwards.