Note: I’ve just signed up for Prompt, an experimental email service that sends you a topic every day, and you reply to it. The next day, everyone’s responses are mailed back to you. In an effort to revive my daily writing habit (Wait, did I say revive? I meant start.) I will be posting some of my prompt replies here. Happy reading!
What qualifies as my ‘first’ time drinking? Is it that time at 14, when I accepted a bottle of beer at a (much) older friend’s party, trying to act all cool, like this was something I did every night of week. Or all those times 12-year-old me secretly took hasty sips out of the glasses of Whisky that I was bringing out to serve the guest in our living room. Or was it when my grandfather, while nursing his evening drink, would dip his fingers in the glass and give a taste to his 1 ½ year old grand child?
I guess all of them qualify as firsts. The first time that toddler me realised that the tempting amber liquid that was forbidden, was in fact not my cup of tea. The first time I realised that whiskey is not a spirit your drink with your taste buds, but with a kind of philosophical, almost cynical knowledge that only comes with age. And the first time I paid the price for a terrific night with a terrible morning.
The reluctant writer