“He got grape concentrate, sugar, cooking brandy and a large bottle of bleach and put the mixture into a large saucepan Elinor used for making marmalade. He didn’t boil it, for fear the bleach might evaporate; after the mixture was warm he added twenty bottles of Yugoslav Riesling, two bottles of Guinness and a pound and a half of oranges cut into segments. Then, reasoning that a little bit of bleach wouldn’t harm him, he sipped, nervously, at a teaspoonful of the mixture. It tasted unequivocall...y of bleach. In fact though, Henry argued to himself, punch usually tasted of bleach. He was simply responding to the fact that he knew there was bleach in the mixture. He was thinking bleach. His toast in the morning tasted of bleach, his pint at the Rose tasted bleached. He would simply add more sugar. He added three more packets of brown sugar. It still tasted of bleach. The beauty of it being a funeral was that no one ever complained about the quality of the food and drink at a funeral. You ate what you were given and tried to look as if you couldn’t really bear to think about food.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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