I like a drink. There, I’ve said it. A fruity Pimm’s in the garden on a summer’s day. A cold beer on holiday by the pool. A robust red with an autumnal fireside pub lunch.
I have a favourite tipple for most occasions. And on my camera reel, a search for the word ‘cocktails’ brings up hundreds of photos that speak of margarita good times.
But if I’m being completely honest, I just can’t drink the same way at the age of 52 as I did in my 20s and 30s. Who can? Who wants to?
At the same time, I don’t want
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