All worries are less with wine.
Fortune, if thou’ll but gie me still Hale breeks, a scone, an whisky gill, An’ rowth o’ rhyme to rave at will, Take a’ the rest, An’ deal’t about as thy blind skill Directs thee best.
In the years that followed I worked as much as I could filling my empty hours with theatres and alcohol. I found I had grown to like the taste. Maybe that was a lie. I never liked the taste except maybe of whisky. I drank it none the less and it numbed any feelings I had for a time. In my sober hours I was introduced to ‘The Order of the Red Dragon’ a little at a time.