The coffee has been served and people are making their excuses and heading off. We shuffle around the restaurant table, closing the gaps. I am sitting next to Sister Nene.
"How are you doing? Did you enjoy the food?" I ask.
"Oh yes - and all the better for it was free." The evening has been a work social gathering. A waiter comes up with a glass which he hands her.
"What are you drinking?"
"Whiskey," she replies, a little indistinctly.
"Normally I like Jamesons. I don't know what this is like. It is something called 'Glenfiddich'."
"That's very good."
"I know. It is a single malt." She reaches for the water jug and eyes me conspiratorially. "I like a little water with it," she whispers and pours half a pint of water into the glass. I watch in horror. "It takes the edge off it and brings out the flavour." As she lifts to drink the light catches the drink - not even a homeopathic amber tinge remains. "Ah - it is excellent."