Paella and Whiskey

I like drinking whiskey straight up. No ice, no mixer, no chaser. The whiskey, the whole whiskey and nothing but the whiskey. I picked up the taste for it last year in China, when:

- Firstly, the tour group I was with in Beijing were provided with tiny, free bottles of (nasty, sharp but effective) whiskey at lunch one day (actually it was a colourless liquid, probably more akin to vodka) and all the other (married) women would have none of it, so of course I was the one to say, sock it to me! (Actually I said, YUM SING).

- Secondly, on the overnight trip I took to the grasslands of Inner Mongolia, we got just a little plastered on the same nasty stuff (actually, even NASTIER -- the stuff I had in Beijing was utterly smooth by comparison), spent the night singing songs and finally retired to our yurts, dreading the moment when our bladders required we make the pitch black journey to the windy, outdoor, communal, squatting toilets.

- And thirdly, in Xian, when a guy I met bought me a double shot of Johnny Walker Black Label (infinitely tastier than either the first or second experience) and I spent the night telling him and his best mate that they had a history going out with idiotic princesses of women and should try to find some girl not satanically warped by the expectations of society and the media.(GOOD LUCK!!)(How I love my soap box of why I hate other women).

BUT!

You know you've been leading far too domestic an existence when you're at a quasi-barbie (quasi because it's happening in France, not Australia and they're making paella not snaggers), have a sip of whiskey on the rocks (and briefly reminisce about the good old days) and immediately become a smidge tipsy. It's neither here nor there really, because the only person spending a great deal of time with me is one year old and won't notice my whiskey breath, and, even better, walks more erratically sober than I do inebriated. (Toddlers, bless). Well, I noticed, nevertheless.

Also, the paella took AGES to cook and wasn't ready by the time Baptiste had to go home for bath and bed, so I hadn't had anything to eat whilst I was drinking (excuses, excuses). Didn't stop me from having another one though, just because I like whiskey and dislike puritan naysayers saying nay about drinking.

So, the score so far:

Whiskey neat: 2
Paella: 0
Child bathed, fed and put to bed: 1
Microwave leftover dinner: 1
Tipsy blog: 1