Well… mine would be red wine but still..
A Scottish Love Story.
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.
With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted Scottish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in rumpled posture.
His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon …..
‘F**k off’ she said, ‘they’re for the funeral.