Time let me play and be

A Tale of My Grandmother

A Tale of my Grandmother

My grandmother always claimed that she never drank alcohol. When pressed, she would doggedly maintain her abstinence. Her sister, Elsie, would support her in this, asserting that she, too, was a teetotaller.

We accepted their claims, knowing that it probably originated in their adherence to a less than popular Christian denomination. Which also accounted for my being christened in a Congregationalist church, long before I was old enough to have a say in such proceedings.

Some time after Elsie’s death, the old lady became incapable of looking after herself, and my wife and I agreed to move in to help her. It was then that we became aware of my grandmother’s nightly ritual of “the tonic.” Every evening, she would look at the clock, see that the time had arrived and go to the cabinet in the corner. From this she would extract a small glass and a bottle of dark liquid.

Having poured herself a glass of this liquid and with the bottle safely back in the cabinet, she would proceed to her favourite chair and sit there, sipping at her glass contentedly.

Our curiosity as to the nature of the liquid was aroused, naturally. Any enquiries were always met with the assertion that it was “the tonic.” My wife and I exchanged looks at these junctures and, eventually, decided that we should find out the truth for ourselves. We examined the bottle in the cabinet.

It was sherry.

We pointed this out to her. “It’s tonic,” she asserted. “I never drink alcohol.”

“Actually, Gran, it’s sherry,” I advised.

“I know that’s what it’s called,” she said. “There’s no alcohol in it.”

“Yes, there is. In fact, sherry is quite a strong wine from Spain.”

“Nonsense,” she replied. “I never drink … wine.”

I decided to let it go. It was a harmless habit at her age, anyhow. And maybe it was a tonic after all. She lived to the age of ninety-seven.


Word count: 323
For “13,” 10.27.24
Prompt: Day 9: "I never drink...wine." —Dracula.