Ransom!

The note delivered under cover of darkness, smelling of rum and cheap cigarettes.

Let it Sloe! Let it Sloe! Let it Sloe!

Oh the weather outside is frightful,

But the gin is so delightful,

And since we've no place to go,

Let It Sloe! Let It Sloe! Let It Sloe!

It doesn't show signs of stopping,

And we've bought some pills for popping,

The lights are turned way down low,

Let It Sloe! Let It Sloe! Let It Sloe!

When we finally get pissed tonight,

How we'll hate going out in the storm!

But if you'll stop us getting in a fight,

All the way home we'll be on form.

Our livers are slowly dying,

And, dear readers, we're still blog writing,

But as long as you love us so,

Let It Sloe! Let It Sloe! Let It Sloe!

 



Art appreciation

It's October again, a particularly arty time of year - you'll remember artache from last year; this year different boy, same issues. Getting boys trashed on gin every time you see them doesn't work apparently...

Anyway we'll be propping up the bar pausing to stare meaningfully* at artworks at Frieze on Wednesday, but at least one day this week we suggest forgoing Frieze for Sunday Fair where artists will be producing limited edition cocktails for a mere £50. Cocktails are now artworks. 'We're not hungover, we just bought too much art last night.'

Speaking of art buying, we Gin Lane Ladies don't know much about art but we know what we like. At the launch last week of an online art store there was something about this print that caught our eye.

Art is very subjective and we don't want to force our interpretation on you, as everyone gets a different meaning from art, but something about the juxtaposition of lettering just feels like there is a depth, a 'call to action' if you will.




See you on the other side of Frieze Art Fair, not to mention London Cocktail Week. If you see us at the bar the next round of art is on us.

*We would suggest around 3.40 minutes as the optimum amount of time in front of an artwork to suggest to those around you that you have both fully appreciated and understood it.

A pint of Negroni and a fishfinger sandwich

 "The bitters are excellent for your liver, the gin is bad for you. They balance each other."

Orson Welles

We at Gin Lane have been showing our appreciation to this year’s balmy summer weather. Let’s be honest, it has been somewhat splendid, and naturally, gin is quite the perfect spirit for such a summer. Rehydration can come in no finer disguise than a cold, sturdy gin and tonic.

But in the interests of equal gin rights, we of course are obliged to look further afield to many of the other fine gin drinks. I for one am on the Gin Lane Bitters Committee, and have been busily compiling a paper* on Aperol – the oft overlooked little cousin of Campari – and as such have been conducting some highly scientific, late-night experiments at Gin Towers with the neon booze juice.

In the past I have used my treasured bottled-sunset Aperol sparingly, having successfully brought it home with me from Venice, where I spent three days dachshund-spotting and drinking obscene quantities of Spritz (fyi: Prosecco, Apreol, soda water, orange and/or olive). This was until I realised how absurdly easy it is to make a Negroni.

Oh the Negroni. Is there a more beautiful drink? If it is on the cocktail menu – as it is at Purl and Caravan - I will be ordering it. No matter, as was the case with my last Caravan visit, if it is to accompany my breakfast. It is the ultimate democratic gin-based drink. Elegant enough for a lady, and yet weighty enough for a chap, it is as fine a drink for summery outdoors drinking as it is for Saturday-night-saddo solo boozing.  According to most reports, it was invented (read: ordered) in Florence, 1919,  by a certain Count Camillo Negroni, who wanted a stronger version of his favoured Americano cocktail.  Thusly, gin replaced the soda water in the Americano, and the drink become the Negroni we know and love today.

Of course, we spend most of our time mingling amongst London’s most upstanding of citizens and the finest of palettes. However, in the interests of research, this lady recently spent a Saturday night in at her Shoreditch abode making Negronis and fishfinger sandwiches. Borne from a mere four ingredients, the Negroni is the ultimate DIY cocktail. Not only is the list of ingredients concise, but the making is a doddle, even for the most inebriated of ladies. Consisting of equal parts gin, Campari (or Aperol) and sweet vermouth with an orange twist, it also lends itself wonderfully to making in large quantities… like, say, pints.  Count Camillo himself put 'Antico Negroni 1919' into production as a readymade version

So, next time you find yourself without a Saturday night plan, just take the cat off the hook, ask the neighbours to look after the phone and make yourself a pint of Negroni – it’s Orson Welles / Gin Lane approved.

* due to be released within the next 2 months, on the back of a packet of  Marlboro Light Menthols

The OriGINal Rebrand

Gin in fancy dress

The Gin Lane Ladies were fortunate to be given a faded parchment which documents the first ever marketing meeting, back when people actually went to market and didn't think about stuff so much. We reprint it here, in its full, dramatised for Radio 4 version.

Scene: 1823, a dark study in the home counties. A faint smell of fish lingers in the air. A man is sitting with his back to us.

Tarquinine enters, he has a rather impressive moustache, "James! How's the oyster business going?"

He turns, "Ah Tarquinine - good to see you. The oysters are selling very well. Commuting is something of a problem as Waterloo, King's Cross and Paddington haven't been built yet, but one mustn't grumble...although..."

"What is it James?"

"It's the gin they drink with the oysters Tarquinine!"

"The gin?!"

"Well the thing is people don't... well they don't really like it! I mean obviously it is medicinal but it's got a bit of tang to it..and the reputation is terrible. Women selling babies clothes and whatnot."

"You're right James - but at least it takes away the taste of those bloody oysters..."

"Well there is that. But we need a way of selling gin so even people who don't like it will drink it..."

"You could...I don't know...disguise it!"

"Disguise it Tarquinine? Maybe I should shave off that moustache of yours and disguise it with that. Haw haw haw!"

"Haw haw haw!" Tarquinine lets out a loud snort, "What I meant dear fellow is just pop along to Covent Garden and buy some of those fruit and vegetables and shove them in the gin..."

"Fruit and vegetables! Are you mad?"

A few days later James wanders round the market. His hand hovers over a potato and a banana. Then he snatches up an orange, a lemon, a cucumber, some strawberries and a fistful of mint. This is ridiculous he thinks. Stupid Tarquinine! Later that afternoon Tarquinine pops into James' oyster bar, customers are quaffing gin with enormous amounts of fruit and vegetables in. Sales have tripled.

"How are you James?"

"Well hello! This was a great idea of mine...the customers are very much enjoying my new drink. I just need massive jugs and a name for it so people don't know it is gin...I might even call it after myself. JAMES!"

Tarquinine is speechless.

"No wait, it shouldn't be James..." Tarquinine looks hopeful. "It should be the family name...I'll call it Pimm's!"

So now you know. Ladies and gentlemen who profess not to like gin at all are actually consuming by the jugful as soon as there is the slightest whiff of sunshine. We rest our case.*

*It's not just Pimm's either, many other household names also disguise their gin origins including Branston Pickle, Coco Pops and PG Tips. A good clue is to look for the Royal warrant as we all know they like a gin or two.

Drinking Etiquette with Mr Dogg.

  Snoop drinking gin in his usual understated manner

The Ladies of the Lane are delighted to say we gained exclusive access to the Doggfather while he was in the UK for Glastonbury. Would we lie to you?* What with hitting 50 and declaring that he has watched Coronation Street for the past 11 years, we're wondering if Snoop still has it and what our good pal** can tell us about gin? Here is the unabridged*** interview script when we ventured inside Snoop's trailer.

Gin Lane 'Ho': Yo Snoop!  We like gin and we hear it's your tipple of choice - any favourite gins?

Snoop: I got me some Seagram's gin

GL: Racey! Would that have anything to do with Miss July?!  Any particular drinking gripes?

Snoop: Everybody got they cups, but they ain't chipped in

GL: Round buying; it is an issue. We would never go to a party and expect to drink for free. Some people have no manners. Apart from Seagram's what do you and your friends drink?

Snoop: My homey Dr. Dre came through with a gang of Tanqueray.

GL: Would that have anything to do with Tanqueray rhyming with his own name?

At this point in the interview there is a stony silence so we change the subject.

GL: Favourite mixer Snoop?

Snoop: Tanqueray and chronic

Tonic surely?! Best not to argue at this stage...

GL: Interesting...

Snoop: Get your ice, get your cups, straight up.

GL: So you're a Martini kind of a man then? Any other tips for our readers?

Snoop: I hit a corner and make sure my drink don't spill.

At this point the interview comes to a close; we are reliably informed Snoop does in fact practice road safety and wasn't driving and was most definitely wearing a seatbelt.

So that's all motherf**kers.

* Yes we most certainly would. Sorry.

** Never met him

*** We obviously took out all references to bitches, hos and and funky ass shit as we don't think swearing is big or clever

Just my ima-gin-ation

It was a normal kind of evening with this lady and her gentleman friend.  We meandered a stretch of the ancient Roman road Watling Street to take in a view privée of intriguing artworks by an artist whose kaleidoscopic influences apparently include Mallarmé's poetry, British zombie movies and 19th century French millitary painting.  Topped off with a few bottles of freebie(r) and a Yemeni supper.  As I said, a normal sort of evening.

We started about the long walk back east-central, pondering the eating habits of Jack Bauer when this lady's well-trained eye was fish-hooked at twenty paces by a certain unmistakable 11-point type word: gin.

Ladies and gentlemen, Mansfield Cryogenics have moved - this is Purl.  A newly opened Victoriana-infused cocktail den nestled a safe distance from the Chardonnay-thirsty hoardes of the City and the Mojito-swigging trendos of the East.  In fact, the only reason I have ever been in this part of town with booze-thirst before, was on another very normal evening of viewing miniature-man-suits in an old fire station, as one does.  My gentleman friend allowed me the honour of buying the drinks, as it was a Tuesday and it was 10pm and and I could sense that he was, in his head, already watching re-runs of 24.  The cocktail menu regularly changes in this joint, as the leaves from the booze tree fall, but on this balmy June eve I plumped for a Negroni and a Clover Club - both masterfully created with two of the fine array of gins available, with ice carved before my very eyes from a glacier (ok ok, a really big block).  We listened to bizarre Charleston-tinged remixes, sat in the bowels of this Marylebone underworld in a little cave all of our own.

The Gin Lane Ladies don't do reviews (not least because other people are, like, well better - see: Yet Another Gin and that naughty Gin Monkey), but if we did, we'd tell you to go to Purl.  And to order the Foul Moudames at The Queen of Sheba.

Statement of Witness: Deliver us from (G)innocence

 The Tasting Session's Flickr Photostream / Jacqueline Chang Photography

SHOREDITCH POLICE DEPARTMENT: TRANSCRIPT OF STATEMENT

Statement of: Gin Lane Ladies

Age: Erm, twenty-something (honest)

Date: 11/05/2010

Location: Shoreditch Town Hall

Lady 1: Look, all I remember is this. I took the 78 bus to Shoreditch Town Hall, where I met one of my trusted Gin Lane companions and entered.  No, not via the main entrance, it was the basement.

Lady 2: We were in this room and the clocks and the pictures on the walls were all sideways, and there were eggs filled with asparagus and duck on sticks and Cazadores Tequila everywhere.

L1: And even a chocolate with a shot of tequila embedded in it.

L2: Yeah that was amazing… but then it got weirder. A funny hairy chap appeared, maybe he was a centaur... Anyway he was holding two apples and babbling about an angry queen. He convinced us to follow him through a cabinet in the wall into a wintery wonderland where we drank the finest Appleton Estate Rum and ate teenie tiny rum-spiked ice creams. Then the hairy fellow led us further into the darkness where we were met Snow White…

L1: Well technically Mr. Snow White. He showed us how not to make apple pies but how to eat the most perfect whiskey chocolates and gave us all a shot of the oakiest whiskey that's ever passed our lips.

L2: As if this weren't enough, next we were led to a room where a wolf kissed a girl and we all drank Meantime beer.  Then we were led into an enchanted forest where gin flavoured chocolates grew in cages from a literary apple tree.

L1: She's right, there was gin everywhere, but not normal gin... this gin was made from apples from the organic cider apples from the fields of Chase Distillery and made the most marvellous mini martinis, and boozy-jelly-worms.

L2: The last thing I remember is snorting some sort of (chocolate) powder in the toilets. I think there was a Big Brother contestant there.

L1: We didn’t want to do it, but they convinced us. It was peer pressure. And I suppose maybe we wanted to look cool.  Look, we're sorry.  Please don't tell our mothers.

L2: I'm sorry officer but we promise we’re telling the truth. Honestly, it was something called the Tasting Sessions: Deliver us from Innocence, cooked up by the ladies who were behind Towards A Fluid State, it’s their fault.

L1: Yeah, and Damian Allsop is the man responsible for all of the chocolates

L2: You should check The Tasting Sessions' website for the next session if you don't believe us.

GIN PARTY MANIFESTO

IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO VOTE!

(ps. Thank you to that German chap Karl who let us use his template thing)

A Broadcast on behalf of the Gin Party

Transparent expenses from the Gin Party

So over the last couple of weeks we've been hearing about all these parties and wondered why no one had invited us! We love parties! How dare they? Then we realised - we don't need them - we'll have our own!

Anyway this is our party broadcast. We think there might be a word missing from that statement but we're too drunk to know or care.

We say vote Gin Party. Yes, we hear you, oh cynical voters. You're thinking you haven't heard from the Gin Lane Ladies for a while. You'd be right. We were undercover. We were, you know, trying to be more like politicians. You don't hear from them and then a week before the election they start bombarding you with leaflets and promises. So here we are.

Our policies? Um. Drink gin. Um, that's it. We'll worry about the small stuff like the economy once you vote us in. We love a live debate though and promise to turn our mikes off when we slag off vodka. And the drinking in canvassing in pubs and bars has begun in earnest. Oh and if there happened to be a hung parliament we might align ourselves with Churchill pre 1924 as he liked a Martini or two. Then again we might not. Never discuss politics we say. But if you did want to vote for your favourite gin below why not?

Come Gin With Me

Feeling a bit 70s this week. Not in our seventies, as though we ladies are ageing we still have the occasional delight of being asked for our identification when buying gin. It really is the elixir of youth. Under no circumstances tell anyone we have perfected a shifty walk and lack of eye contact as we approach the till.

So in fact back to the 1970s for us. We swung by Trailer Happiness on Thursday for a delicious gin and champagne cocktail amongst nests of tables and graphic printed curtains, but it was Saturday night when we truly went retro.

An Abigail's Party themed dinner. Jumpsuits donned, hair flicked, blue eye shadow applied we hot footed it Kensington way for a supper that began with the Queen Mum's favourite and 70's classic Gin and Dubonnet which our hosts mixed with a dash of bitter lemon. Apparently bitter lemon the mixer of favour in the late 60's early 70's favourite is becoming harder to find, patronise it now before it is too late!

The G&B was accompanied by a delightful array of suburban snacks; a foil hedgehog with cheese and pineapple, twiglets and oh so sophisticated pimento olives in a bowl. Our hosts were most certainly folks of a certain class! We sat down for dinner with a range of Afro wearing gents; sorry boys the question on everyone's lips was were they were more Jackson 5 or Kevin Keegan? Dinner consisted of a melon boat starter, paella, creme caramel and a soundtrack worthy of Studio 54 lit by a lava lamp. A 2am cab ride home, the score was a reassuring 9/10.

When it is our turn to host we're wondering if we can get away without serving food at all.

Stop your sobbing

I've been meaning to finish this entry for some time.  You may recall a certain emotional week for the ladies shortly before Christmas - "the missing week" - during which an astonishing amount of the ladies' favourite was consumed with particular gusto.  At the end of who knows which of these nights this lady stumbled home scribbling an angered, teary blog post on the back of an expired pack of Camel Lights.

 

Photograph by Sam Perry & Jennifer Smit

As seen on the cover of the excellent 125 Magazine - Issue 6

So why does gin have such a reputation for making our womenfolk cry?  And why, I hear you scream, are you revisiting such nonsense?  Let me explain.

To answer the first question, this myth could be some way explained by gin's popularity amongst the female poor of 18th century London.  'Gin' here, however, describes the bathtub variety produced from the cheapest possible grain and diluted with sugar, fruit, old boots, anything to disguise the abhorrent taste.  As for its female-heavy demographic, well, gin was available to purchase on the street and in corner shops.  Beer, then virtuous by comparison, was confined to ale houses which were of course male-only territories.  Gin thus became associated with good old-fashioned female desperation, not that we know of such things...

Of course, being well-versed in Lady's Eye-water's fabled teary history, this lady isn't one to be fooled by such twaddle.  I know perfectly well, as do my cohorts (here comes the science, brace yourselves) that all types of alcohol are depressants; drugs which slow activity in the brain (we rarely feel such effects thanks to our incalculable intellect / Big Giant Brains) by increasing the production of gamma-amino butyric acid, an amino acid that eventually promotes sleep in the central nervous system.

Why am I revisiting such nonsense?  Well.  It was a normal sort of evening; a private view followed by a delightful dinner with the Ladies of the Lane, where we spoke of important matters such as gin and dresses.  All very lovely as I'm sure you can imagine.  So it was with much surprise that, come 2am this lady found herself storming out of her gentleman friend's abode in tears.  How embarrassing!  How uncouth!  Dear reader, white wine should never precede gin.  Nor should such vast quantities of the aforementioned combination follow a particularly upsetting week.

In any case, our official party line is this: Stick with the science - never, ever drink white wine.

A rather rum party

Hello Sailor! No not that one.... Sailor Jerry of course. Thanks to an invitation from Madame Frou-Frou, the blonde half of DJ duo Hell Kittie Kittie Gin Lane was once again caught up in the world of rum. We see no harm in occasionally mixing our drinks after all. The occasion was the relaunch of Sailor Jerry rum as a cocktail mixer; we danced to the Paris Riots in the City Arts & Music Project whilst working our way through endless rum cocktails served up in jam jars. We always wondered why Granny insisted on keeping so many. Now we know. She predicted there'd be growing market of East London bars bored of traditional glassware. Good on you Granny.

We digress. What did we drink you ask? The classic Jerry and Ginger was followed by Death or Glory (no glory holes tonight thank the lord) and Vanilla Mojitos. The only near gin experience came when a Very Drunk Young Man asked this lady to name her favourite drink. After shouting GIN at him several times it became clear he a) wanted to buy her a drink in a free bar situation b) Alcohol in excess had apparently rendered him deaf and c) he was probably a bit of an idiot. The trays of drinks kept coming and for a Tuesday it all got a bit much. I woke up to a tattoo of an anchor on my arm. A transfer. Rock and roll.

On smell alone...

The most unfortunate of Ladies has spent the last 11 days (go on, count them) in a most disturbingly dry state.  Due to a run in with a dentist resulting in an unexpected extraction, this Lady has been on The Drugs (not the good kind) and therefore not on The Drink for really far too long.  Suffice to say that I was therefore inclined to feel not a little sorry for myself on the night in question when, as per our invitation, we visited one of our number At Home on the Isle of Dogs.

And imagine my further woe when a bottle of a certain recently discovered gin was brought out, tonic was procured and lemon arrived at the table, for the bottle was beauteous.  Greenall's Bloom.

As winner of the 2009 Drinks International Design and Packaging Gold Medal and not one but two Gold Stars for Luxury Product and Designer of the Year, one would expect nothing less.  And then – you can image the torture, lesser Ladies would have fallen – I leant in for a whiff.  O!  What delicate fragrance was this?  Not just the camomile, pomelo (that weird and wonderful fruit, provider of an aroma of citrusy loveliness) and honeysuckle of their advertising blah, but another taste… could it be… quinine?  Like a G&T but just G, which, I would imagine (having not had a drop, I swear it), would slip down the throat with great ease.  How fabulous.  Perhaps the anti-inflammatory qualities of aforementioned alkaloid might help with me tooth ache…

Gordon's Makes Us Drunk

Gordon's makes us very drunk too. And with Valentine's Day around the corner, for one of the ladies at least the only thing for it is to get very drunk. But before she does, she just wanted to share this delightful homage to Gordon's Gin by artists Gilbert and George. A love story indeed.

Going Gin in Hồ Chí Minh

As you will know, one of our number has been travelling the globe at some not inconsiderable distance – presumably you’ve read my co-Lady’s post about Cuba so you ought to have gathered that this is the one about Vietnam.

As I travelled the length and breadth of Vietnam with my current beau (soaking up the sun in Saigon, having a high time in Hanoi… ok ok, here endeth the awful alliteration) it became apparent to me that we had seen only Gordon’s throughout Vietnam. It might even have been the super strength version that they’re allowed outside this country in the big wide world… the one with red and yellow branding… yeah.

As fabulous as Gordon’s is, it was with some significant relief that we arrived in Hồ Chí Minh and went for a little cocktail at the Sheraton Hotel. Of the eight restaurants, drinking holes and lounges at the Sheraton we opted for the rooftop bar where we drank several delightful Bombay Sapphire’s with tonic, and lime, I was pleased to note. As we looked out over the twinkling lights of Hồ Chí Minh there really was nothing more a Lady could ask for... Apart from another round.

Onwards, from Hồ Chí Minh to the tropical island of Phu Quoc where dined on the beach every night and slept in a delightfully simple wooden hut (amidst the quite frankly terrifying noises of the jungle I hasten to add) – and this is where the splendid game of gin rummy was discovered. If you haven’t opened your mind to this brilliantly named game already you must down tools immediately and follow these instructions to learn it. I discovered that I have a natural penchant for the game, and when there’s gin involved… well, I don’t even need to elaborate. Several rounds in things were getting a bit messy, at which point my handsome companion (yes, still the same one) called me obstreperous (someone can’t handle their gin) and I proceeded to ‘go gin’ – the point at when a player achieves the best possible outcome of the game – a bonus of 25 points. But then, us ladies always win when we 'go gin'.

The Ginternet Movie Database

The Ladies of The Lane have, as ever, fully immersed themselves in Awards season.  We were of course delighted to be invited to the Golden Globes (this is a fib) - it was a wonderful night - and we are very much looking forward to attending the Oscars (this is too).  Our vintage Valentino couture gowns have been steamed to within an inch of their lives, and we've had the help polish our Chopard diamonds special like.

All that's left is to sit back and await the big night.  This lead us to thinking about gin, of course, but gin in Hollywood, so we've compiled a list of our favourite Hollywood gin references for you.  We'd like to thank our families, Miller's, Hendrick's, Bombay Sapphire, and of course the Academy.

 

I'm No Angel (1933)

Mae West's character Tira is caught up in an elaborate thievery plot, "Like an olive in a dry martini".

 

The Thin Man (1934)

Nominated for 4 Oscars

According to Nick Charles (played by William Powell), "a dry martini you always shake to Waltz time."

 

After Office Hours (1935)

A gratuitous excuse to mention the glorious Clark Gable and Constance Bennett, who spend a fabulous proportion of the movie drinking dry martinis with one olive.

 

Every Day's A Holiday (1937)

Nominated for 1 Oscar

Another Mae West film, here Charles Butterworth tells Charles Winninger, "You ought to get out of those wet clothes and into a dry martini."  This famous phrase was repeated in 'The Major and The Minor' (1942) - when Robert Benchley asks Ginger Rogers, "why don't you get out of that wet coat and into a dry martini".

 

Dark Victory (1939)

Nominated for 3 Oscars

Bette Davis favours the 'Pink Gin' cocktail in this film.  Here's how to drink like Bette:

1. Swish 3 dashes of Agnostura Bitters around a chilled martini glass. 

2. Pour in 2 measures of chilled gin.  

3. Drink.

Casablanca (1942)

Winner of 3 Oscars, Nominated for a further 5 Oscars

Rick (Humphrey Bogart): "Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine."

Dr. No (1962)

Winner of 1 Golden Globe

You knew it was coming - Bond, James Bond.  The classic "Shaken, not stirred" line was first mentioned in 1962's 'Dr. No', but not ordered by Bond himself until 'Goldfinger' in 1964.  Of course we all know that this 'ere is a vodka martini - two words which shouldn't really be placed together, in our opinion.

Withnail & I (1987)

Withnail (Richard E Grant): "Two large gins, two pints of cider. Ice in the cider."

 

Vanilla Sky (2001)

Nominated for 1 Oscar, 2 Golden Globes, and 1 Grammy

Sofia (Penelope Cruz): "I think she's the saddest girl to ever hold a martini."

Our Lady in Havana

Heading optimistically for Cuba, a nation of rum drinkers, this lady felt like a modern day crusader. By the end of her secret mission the locals would be drinking gin. Armed with a few key Spanish phrases - Si, Ginebra, Gin-Tonic and 'Te pido disculpas por mi comportamiento de anoche' she was feeling pretty confident.

A trip to the Museo del Ron in Havana confirmed suspicions, we were about as likely to stumble out and find a branch of Starbucks as to discover that gin had overtaken rum in popularity. But when in Rum...a tour followed in this heavily branded Havana Club 'museum' (looked like a bar to us) and attached shop and we felt it our duty to try Havana Club 7 anejos . Not one for mojitos, this is a feisty sort to be sipped straight and savoured.

I hopped into the back of a 1955 Blue Plymouth and was whisked across town to Hotel Nacional. Sipping a G&T on the lawn I reflected this Communist lark wasn't all bad. Good intentions followed and a trip to the local shop proved there is a small demand for gin. An assortment of lesser known brands and only one bottle of Beefeater left...

I stumbled into a bar to contemplate this evidence of an underground gin drinking network. I perused the cocktail menu. It would appear that mojitos cost around £1.50 while a gin was around a fiver. The ladies of the lane are nothing if not frugal. A two week fiesta followed, memories of salsa, thick cigar smoke and the smell of fresh mint - Gin darling, it was just the once and I was thinking about you all the time.

P.S. If you are heading there soon, bring us gals back a Cohiba each and a bottle of Havana Club Barrel Proof. Just for research purposes of course.

Me, my gin and I

Abandoned.  This seems the only real way to describe my present situation.  How dare the other two ladies go on holiday?  I could perhaps bear the pain if I knew they were having a dreadful time, holed up in some primitive lean-to at a budget Butlins spin-off.  Alas no, Vietnam and Cuba I'm sure are wholly fabulous.  Well whoop-dee-doo.

I miss them so, it's quite difficult to avoid imagining one's life as a teary montage, with Celine Dion's 'All By Myself' on repeat.  Of course, this could be an opportunity to explore a life outside of the Gin Lane bubble, to amuse oneself in the company of others... so to speak (damn those ginnuendos).  But no, I am an independent lady, not in a Beyonce way, but independent nonetheless.  Let's do this properly.

In my kitchen has been sat a bottle of Miller's Westbourne Strength gin for quite some time.  To this point, I've been apprehensive to try it.  One of only a handful of 'super premium' gins on the market - those with an ABV of over 45% - Miller's Westbourne Strength sits patiently, safe in its 45.2% ABV knowledge that it will most certainly get me entirely titted.  Tanqueray No. 10, a rival at a staggering 47.3% ABV, knows this too.  It's seen me, holding desperately to the edge of bars, in the all-consuming fear that my face will soon be swiftly and inelegantly introduced to the floor.

But look.  There are no bars here, nor are there people.  The potential embarrassment of disgracing oneself in a drunken way is all but completely removed when drinking at home, is it not?  And, I can wear my Christmas slippers to boot.  The perfect opportunity - the ladies will wish they had stayed.

Miller's Westbourne is the big brother to the much loved Miller's Gin - itself a delightful premium gin, most excellently suited to a Martini, FYI - and the the little brother of the cripplingly strong Miller's Gin 10th Anniversary Strength (54% ABV!) which was rated the best gin in the world no less, by the Beverage Tasting Institute.  On first sniff, Miller's Westbourne is a rich, rooty specimen, not so much screaming 'GIN' at you, but rather singing it in a deep, manly baritone voice.  You'd like Miller's Westbourne to be in a musical.  It'd scoop you up in its big, strong arms and carry you off into the sunset in the final scene.  Miller's Gin, in comparison, is far more citrussy, more of a tenor of a man.  He'd probably just send you an email or something.

It is in a gin and tonic (two parts tonic to one part gin, please) that Miller's Westbourne triumphs.  Mixed, as I did, with Fever Tree tonic, and a good chunk of lime, it has a richness that many gins lack.  Gone is the hairsprayish twang present in so many gins, replaced by a velvety thickness that demands you have another and kick off your festive slippers. 

A perfect gin to drink alone, if needs must.  And I only played Celine ONCE.  Or twice...

END OF DECADE DISPATCH (STOP)