Ep.3 From London with Love

Alright, alright, settle down. Despite the clamoring of several of Vancouver’s industry elite we’ve yet to receive enough libel claims to force us off the global conch that is the Internet and so with even greater pleasure than before, in the face of fantastic envy and we’re sure a fair few derisive snorts, we give to you the next episode in The Keefer Blog…


July comes to a close, and what a month it has been. The summer has set in (and I’m pleased to say seems as willing to move as a mule on a dry dirt road), we saw a few exciting days that paid their yearly tribute to some fine drinks and liquor, Tales of the Cocktail 2018 came and went with only the smallest, prerequisite, amount of drama and your very own curator of online readable treats made a small trip to England, appeared on morning television and rode the hell out of the Tamahi rapids. Add to this the knowledge that, with any installment-based publication, it is imperative to install a gripping third episode to keep the readers hooked, and one would be forgiven for thinking that the words sitting neatly in front of you would be so fit to burst with profundity that they might feasibly fall out of your screen and pour all over your sticky little hands.

However, in spite of all the grandiose promise above, it is a more humble and grateful thought I would like to touch upon this month. Throughout my sojourn in England and upon my return to this fine westerly city, through what we shall choose to call, tactfully, a very busy month, one thing that has struck me is how lucky we are in this industry to enjoy such great and enduring friendships. We can strike up fleeting connections with people at a point in time, only to find them again, years later, behind the stick on the other side of the world and the immediate intimacy of that interaction is something that continues to touch me and leave me sweaty eyed.

Sure, it’s a close-knit group of people who do what we do, and like-minded to boot, but when was the unwritten rule that we would foster a community that could only be described as family get… not written down? Maybe it’s because the work we do is so heavily focused on hospitality and interaction with strangers that it is only natural that we would strive to make sure none of us ever qualified as one of them, maybe we’re all so bloody weird and enthusiastic about distilled agave products that (with the exception of a few special people who know who they are) we wouldn’t have anyone at all to talk to if we didn’t create this bond, maybe it’s just the booze.

The point is, and while this may be a sad allegory of our own lives, I think many of you know what I mean when I say I have been hugged by some bartenders I know only slightly well with more ferocity and genuineness than many of my own family. Simply put, we should count ourselves lucky to be so deeply entrenched in a family that loves, nurtures, supports and lifts up one another in a way I feel sets us apart from any other industry out there. I guess I love you guys…

Safety third fellow drinker…

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