Anyone For Pimm's?

Has a fortnight really passed since the Speccie’s summer party? I was made to drink Pol Roger on an empty stomach until I was sick. Not really, but I do find that if I drink much more than a bottle of even something as slinky as Pol, things do tend to get a bit burpy – so, in a flash of inspiration, I switched to pints of Pimm’s. (OK, maybe half-litres but it doesn’t really have the poetry, does it?)

There’s something about the sheer gluggability of the stuff. Mrs G was helping out on the Pimm’s table at our twins Ben and Joe’s school fête on Saturday and the yummies (and the daddies) were getting through so much of it that runners has to be dispatched further, and still further, afield to clear the shelves of the Metros and Locals nearest St Paul's.

Much hot air is wasted on debating the best (solid) ingredients for a Pimm’s. Groping about in the bottom of the fridge the other day I found some left-over fruit salad and can confirm that raspberry and watermelon do excellent random service, especially if zippified with a squeeze of lime.

Mint is the only essential (although I intend to re-visit another moment of inspiration when my basil has got to pickability as my memory is that its high-pitched pepperiness may make the whole even more intoxicatingly aromatic.)

I don’t know how many gallons I consumed in the back garden of 22 Old Queen Street last Thursday but I suspect that records may, as they say, have tumbled. Whatever, the most important thing is that I should never be reminded of the lychee Martinis at the after-party.