My friend, it’s never too late

Every other morning, on the stairs outside my door, there’s an empty bottle of Glen’s vodka.

Someone sits there, very close to me, and drinks his Glen’s several times every week. Who is it? I’ve started to think about him (her?). This thirsty guy is my fellow Finchley resident and I feel sorry for him. It doesn’t have to be like this. Thing is, I’ve been in similar places myself, but I’ve managed to move on so why couldn’t he? Maybe he just needs a push or a hint. Sometimes change warrants social interaction.

I think I’ll talk with him, you know. I’ll just sit down on the stairs and wait until he comes, with his bottle of vod, and tell him, softly but still straight, that it’s never too late, that there are so many other Vodkas that are so much better.

Like the Russian Standard or the Polish Krupnik. They both provide tremendous value. Good luck my friend.