Strange Tales - musings of a sound monkey

I’ve never understood this strange fascination with trying to make Pimms worse. it’s a fantastic summer drink and in a large glass or ideally, vase, you just can’t beat it. and yet there’s all manner of folk who crawl out of the woodwork when it is set down in it’s golden gloriousness in front of you who seem to have done a bartending course at Hogwarts. the first time I tried Pimms, I took to it instantly, lovely stuff, but then the girl I was drinking with said “hang on” dashed out of the door, into the garden, hurtled round like some insane alchemist and rushed back in with what can only be described as a pile of weeds, some still avec soil and dumped it in the Pimmsy nectar. “what the…^#%%???” “it’s borage and mint, it’s traditional!” “it’s in my drink” “that’s how you drink Pimms” “but it was a really nice drink, now it tastes like gardener’s question time!” I just don’t get it, so no, cuke & salt, no - if you want a raita, go to an Indian.