Well, That Ended Just On Time
A Geezer’s Notebook, By Jim Foster
I’m fairly certain you will remember the LCBO strike, one of the greatest tragedies to hit Ontario since the birth of Doug Ford. (If anyone remembers the strike it will be you) It finally ended on July 23rd much to relief of most of my friends and relatives. I say most since several live in Manitoba, a few in Quebec, and one in BC, sane provinces where such a disastrous situation would never be allowed to happen. I blame Doug Ford but then I always blame poor Doug for every disaster be it weather, acid rain, or the fact that his buck-a-beer tastes like the horse could use more salt.
As I wrote this I was on the horns of a dilemma as they say. (I have never seen a dilemma up close, especially a horny one, and don’t want to. My wife was butted by a goat when she was a child and she still wakes up bleating.)
As I was saying, the strike was over and the stores would be opening in 12 minutes. I actually needed to go up there since my liquor cabinet was down to four ounces of Irish Poteen we smuggled home from the Emerald Isle several years ago. I don’t know if you have tasted this delightful fiery beverage but the stuff had been banned in Ireland since 1661 and for good reason. Swig an ounce and you fancy yourself a great lover, two shots and you are impotent, three good pulls and off you go to England with a shillelagh in one hand and a bomb in the other.
It’s an interesting brew, originally made by fermenting potatoes and gunpowder until the resulting alcohol started smoking. Once the bubbling liquor reached the critical point, a sheep or Druid priest was thrown in. A week later, now properly aged, the whole potful was strained through an old brassiere and declared ready for drinking. At that point, a quart or two was poured into a clay jug and any Irishman on hand drank a ceremonial birthday toast to St. Bridget* whether it was her birthday or not.
The problem is I actually had to go to the liquor store and right away. Not for myself, since I have no use for the stuff, but just in case friends drop by and didn’t have the common courtesy to bring their own. As I say, I had to go, but the problem was when?
What if some reporter should be there covering the grand re-opening and there I was standing outside the door along with dozens of other alkies hoping to be the first in line. My reputation, such as it is, would be ruined. What if my readers saw me, or worse, a Baptist?
I could have waited an hour I suppose but there had been a run on the stores two weeks before and their stocks had taken a major beating. I drove by every day to make sure they hadn’t settled and a dozen heavy-laden transports hadn’t dropped off case after case of single malt, or even a bottle or two of blended which is much the same except the distillers only let it age an hour or two before they send it on its way.
I handled the strike very well I thought, except for breaking out in tears for no reason at all. Our friends fared not so well; we went out for dinner at a restaurant and their hands were shaking so badly the server-person had to be hosed down and the walls re-painted.
I thought about using the LCBO’s delivery service but what if the truck was late and my order didn’t get here until late in the afternoon. We couldn’t be having our 4 o’clock cocktail hour at 5:30 or, perish the thought, 6 pm. I was getting desperate. I simply couldn’t take the chance. I would have to go. I had no choice.
Would you believe it? There were only ten customers in the whole store. I was in and out in six minutes. Sometimes I think I am an idiot.
*Little is known of St. Bridget except she was a holy woman who lived in Ireland around the same time as St. Patrick. Scholars differ as to just who the lady was. Some say Bridget was Patrick’s girl friend and others believe she was Pat himself in drag. Regardless of who she was and what she did, if anything, her birthday is considered by the Irish as good an excuse as any to crack open a couple of barrels of Poteen. On the other hand, to an Irishman, what isn’t?
(Image Supplied)
