A few weeks into our adventure, the inevitable happened, and I found myself in possession of a cask of wine. The silver handbag. Chateaux de Box. Cardonnay. Goon. At $3.50 for 7000 litres, it seemed like a good idea to have a box stashed in the truck for emergencies.
Of course, cask wine is never a good idea. Whether I drink 1 glass or 5, I have a thumper of a headache the next day. I guess that’s because of the sulphites – Cai is massively allergic to sulphites so as a rule we all stay well away from them – but Google can’t find me an organic, preservative free wine in a box, weirdly enough.
Anyway, with the kids tucked up in bed last night we thought we’d goon on next to the campfire. We only brought our mugs with us, so they have to double as glasses. It looked as classy as it sounds, goon in stainless steel camping mugs. It was about 9.30 or so, so it was pretty quiet around the campsite.
And then a car came ripping through.
And then again. And stopped right in front of our fire.
The female occupant of the car was, how do I put this delicately, completely off her face. Smashed. Rat Arsed. Maggot. I’m not sure about the bloke, but seeing as how he was controlling a vehicle I can only hope he was in a better state. She had a very large glass of something in her hand.
“Do you wanna have a drink with me? I’m looking for someone who wants to have a drink with me!”
Matt didn’t miss a beat.
“Sorry love, we’re just having a cup of tea and then we’re going to bed”.
And that, dear readers, is why you should always drink your wine out of a coffee cup.