Long ago when the kids were small we had a cottage beside a loch in the Highlands of Scotland one summer. At that time of the year it never gets completely dark there. The kids were in bed and asleep.
Liz and I sat on a bench overlooking the loch and smelling the salt and the seaweed. It was very still and the reflection of the mountains was barely disturbed by ripples from the breeze. And we talked and smoked cigarettes and sipped Glenfiddich whiskey into the small hours. I must have drunk most of the bottle and Liz had a lot (for her). But we didn't feel drunk, just high, at one with our surroundings and each other.
That was a great drinking experience. But it has never been repeated.
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