I drink whisky and beer.
It’s an odd line to start off my blog. I’m sitting here in the Mallard Bar up at the Chateau Whistler; I’ve written in my journal, checked Facebook, sent out a tweet and read my emails. There’s nothing left but work on this week’s blog and this is the best line I can write?
Whisky and beer?
Clearly there are other more pressing subjects to talk about… but in this bar, at this moment, there is only whisky and beer.
Sometimes scaling everything down and blocking out the world is the best option.
And for those who are curious, the whisky is always Glenkinchie, from an Edinburgh distillery, and the beer is either Stella or Blue Buck. I am predictable.
I’m not a big drinker. Though for the past few months I have found myself in many bars and lounges, drinking, listening to my favourite music and writing. Always writing. It seems many writers end up in coffee shops to scribble or type their words. I tend to chat too much at my local Starbucks. And I like to write while sipping something a little stronger than a latte.
I also like to watch people. When I’m not writing I spy. Right now there is a big crowd around the long curved bar. It looks like a company event. Everyone is talking and laughing. Well everyone except the man at the end. He’s drinking a martini and intently watching the bartender. I wonder about him.
I’m sure there are people here who wonder about me. What is she doing in the corner, writing in her little book and occasionally stopping to watch the singer? Yes, I bet they have questions. A young man comes over and invites me up to the bar for a shooter. I laugh and say, “No thanks… I’m working, and I only drink whisky or beer”. He chuckles as he walks away. A few minutes later he’s back and says he’ll buy me the drink I want. I smile and accept the offer.
This bar and hotel are famous. I can imagine a writer taking up residence here.
It would be a life gently filled with writing and whisky and beer.