The Weasel is living in genteel poverty. This does not mean I have to buy Tesco Value gin and put it in a decanter. Not that bad. What I mean by "genteel poverty" is not being able to have three bottles of single malt, such as Caol Isla, Old Pulteney, or Dailuaine on the go at once, all the time. Indeed, I have a dearth of decent 16 year-olds. I am sure Gary Glitter would understand.
I have re-instated the home brew barrel this week, not entirely due to financial strictures, but because I like real ale and because bottle real ale is still beyond my price range in the quantities required by me and any 15 year old who just wants to get pished. I may even get my own still.
And so to my subject. My first wedding had high points and low points. It was "disapproved" of and we had to initially finance it ourselves, which actually was not so bad because we did it our way, including having the use of a horse drawn phaeton, which even now makes me cringe. At this wedding were two chums, one my best man and the other a good friend and colleague. Last year, the best man picked up a cool £10 million - a little consolation present for having been a partner in a very prestigious City firm of stockbrokers that got sold on. This Ten million was in addition to his already inflated portfolio that extends across the world. I am sure he looked at it as a nice way of getting the magnolia paintwork done at his flat in his listed Georgian flat. Or his villa, or his town house. I have no idea. We have not spoken since my I split from my first wife. The other chum, who I have more or less lost contact with, has had a distinguished career as a broadcaster and writer, and is not unknown on the book prize shortlist circuit.
Well, the first guy, the multi-millionaire, has an unremarkable name. If you ever met him you would assume he is a sales assistant in Halfords - the kind you would avoid because they don't actually drive a car (he doesn't). He is just another eminence grise in the City. Consequently, there is not much point in Googling him.
The other chap, the broadcaster is eminently Googleable, but not as much as me!!!!
The Weasel gets over 27,000 entries currently, whereas, me old mate at the Beeb gets less than 14,000, which is a couple of thousand less than "anal seepage". So, when I am down, and down to my last drop of Balvenie, I stare into the bottom of the glass, think of anal seepage, and chuckle at the misfortunes of my old wedding guests.