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Lunch was a pleasure, dinner often a celebration, but breakfast had the seriousness and the solemnity of a ritual, a time when he could sit back and contemplate the day ahead.
‘Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. It needs to be served ice cold with a slice of lemon peel. All right?’
He had grown used to the idea and had deliberately chosen to go through life with the same carelessness as the little ivory ball that span around a roulette wheel, blithely ignoring the certainty that it must one day drop into double zero.
You will not wake up to the fact that you are becoming irrelevant and were it not for your geographical location and your friendship … kinship with Europe, you would be irrelevant already.’
Later that evening, coming out of a scalding hot shower with a glass of Haig & Haig whisky inside him, Bond felt a lot better.
Bond had never been particularly impressed by the trappings of money and success – he had met too many wealthy people whose wealth was all that defined them.
What was missing here was an exit door. To be trapped at sea with only the idle rich for company would have all too quickly become suffocating. He’d have ended up drinking too much and bedding the cabin girls.
Isn’t that how marriage works? The days go by and you settle into a routine and piece by piece everything is taken away from you until there are two complete strangers sitting in the same room.
