not a fan of white wine but every Christmas I buy 2bottles just to have in and sip at between sherries while I get chef's nibbles at the turkey in the early afternoon of the big day. Most of the 2bottles, the green-bottled brothers, go to friends and mums dropping round for a
quick Christmas toast or a longer boozier evening. Cut to 2020's lone-drinking festivities and the younger brother, a half-bottle, sits in the fridge, lies on its side, fingers left on its hip, calling me like Blondie's song, beautiful and cool, untouchable brilliance, but
right there on the middle shelf
while its older brother sits behind the wheelie bin, ice cold, stuck in its frosted white basket from the leaking gutter above, the bin's wheels black against the gren glass. It lurks.