Gin

We have reached a time of year when it is rather pleasant to sit and share a beer on the top terrace before the sun drops below the trees on the ridge beside us. These folk presumably fancied a quiet sundowner before heading round the corner into the shaded harbour and mooring beside the other yachts in the flotilla where together they squawk like seagulls. I swear we could smell the gin wafting up the hill on the breeze.