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Playing to Type

"Many writers can only spin words into coherent fictions with a glass of whisky in front of them." I wrote that earlier.

I finish that 1000 words, and go grab a whisky. It's the last of my litre of Bowmore Surf, one of the litre bottles that I got from that trip to hellNottingham back in the other job.

Once I finish this, I'll have no Islay in the house. I've a litre of Auchentoshan that I've barely touched for good reason, it's Auchentoshan and thus not exactly the world's best. I've about a third of a bottle of Balvennie Double Wood, but I still need to find the right amount of water, and I need to be in the right mood. And thinking about it, I've some Stag's Breath hidden away. I might just make it through There's Only Music So That There's New Ringtones yet...

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