I have a friend, Jim by name, whose character radiates with an evangelical glow; a winemaker in talent and by trade, he has taken to heart the Psalmist’s observation that “a day without red wine is a day without sunshine,” and has, twice now, ensured that this lonely sailor’s access to liquid warmth is not diminished by something so trifling as a remote location. He has sent wine. Red wine. In quantity. And always just in time.
For this I am ever grateful.
I only wish the retrieval were not so much like a pilgrimage.