grouse
The word “grouse” always makes me think of Scotland. There was a whiskey, I think, called “The Famous Grouse” which had a silly little bird on the label. I always thought the bird looked both dignified and utterly silly at the same time.
The phrase brings back memories of wet bitter cold, and tea, and walking up and down hills. It makes me think of the Royal Botanic Gardens. It makes me think of red and green double-decker busses. It makes me think of dark beer and football scarves and schoolgirls. It gives me the taste of salted crisps and penny sweets. I smell the hops in the air from the local brewery on the days when the wind shifted, and I hear the cheers from the rugby stadium as I walk past. I see my old college, and the castles and monuments, and I am homesick for a place that was never really my home.
The phrase brings back memories of wet bitter cold, and tea, and walking up and down hills. It makes me think of the Royal Botanic Gardens. It makes me think of red and green double-decker busses. It makes me think of dark beer and football scarves and schoolgirls. It gives me the taste of salted crisps and penny sweets. I smell the hops in the air from the local brewery on the days when the wind shifted, and I hear the cheers from the rugby stadium as I walk past. I see my old college, and the castles and monuments, and I am homesick for a place that was never really my home.