“Pete will enjoy some Schnapps”

The missus’s flatmate said, and she wasn’t wrong. Currently hammering this out on a flight over to Piz Gloria, to walk in Lazenby’s footsteps as he ponced around the peaks of Murren smoking a pipe and banging his way through Blofeld’s hypnotised angels of death, with a crushing hangover.



The one that makes every chore feel twice as laborious and magnifies your place in the world as no bigger than a dung beetle grazing on a cow turd. This of course is the result of Pete enjoying the Schnaps, both bottles. Although technically not schnapps as originally indicated, but a pear brandy from Schladerer Obstwasser.

Distilled from fermented apples and pears from the Markgrafler region, the black forest and around Lake Constance. On the nose pear, red apple and pepper. On the palette a violent hit of alcohol, pear flesh notes and parma violets.

This morning I fished them out of the garbage, wiped off the garbage and excavated the lids. Filled them with water for the purposes of the shoot, the cat looked on stoically from the shadows, poised with deft precision on the top of the chair. I wondered what he was thinking, the judgemental little sh*t.




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