That night I couldn’t sleep. Wanting to get some English air, I went for a walk. Raindrops splashed against the black umbrella, creating a colorful illumination with the lights of Westminster Square.
It was two in the morning and I could hear the muffled sounds of a piano in the distance. Arranging into a subtle melody, they were like film music heard from outside the frame. Walking through the stark streets of London towards the music, I felt like the protagonist of a film noir and an exciting thrill ran through me. What script is written for me today?
Finally, London revealed one of its secrets to me: I came across a small intimate jazz club. Several musicians playing on stage, oak inlaid bar with amber reflections under the glass of cognac I ordered.
I took the last free table and gave myself over to this impression emphasized by a noble drink. That’s how I spent the rest of the night and felt special… it was a good vintage – London Riverwood.
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