Bottles.

I hope that you enjoy reading another post of the Friday Loose Bloggers’ Consortium when eleven of us post on the same topic chosen by one of us. Today’s topic has been chosen by Magpie11 who has just been discharged from hospital after recovering from an illness. Here is wishing him speedy and full recovery and a quick welcome back to the LBC.

Please do visit Ashok, Conrad, Grannymar, Magpie11, Maria, Gaelikaa, Helen, Judy, Anu and Ginger to see ten other views on the same topic. Some of these bloggers may be preoccupied with vacations, examinations, family problems and/or romance, so be a little indulgent in case they do not post or post late.

Please turn on the speakers and listen to my first ever conscious exposure to bottles.

Yes, for those who wonder, my late mother had indeed told me categorically, that this bottle never touched my lips ever.

On the other hand, my father, ever the WOG (Westernised Oriental Gentleman) of those pre-independence days, has often proudly proclaimed to the world that in honour of his first born, he bought a brand new car from an English Army Officer who was going away to fight the wars, and brought it to the nursing home straight from the Bombay docks to fetch his son and heir home. Along with the car came this bottle and yours truly, all of seven days old, was welcomed home with some diluted JW from the proud father’s fingers.

Many types of bottles of all kinds of shapes, contents and sizes later, I settled down to this one.

After many years of such fine romances with the bottles, the most common bottle that I now drink from is

Life has been good.

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