I’ve been talking to a lot of men lately. It’s a little different from usual, in that I’ve been talking with a notebook and tape recorder, but I’ve learnt a lot from a whole host of men lately. Including this: in the Navy, the sailors were entitled to a tot of rum every day.
This might not be news.
Here’s where it became news to me. A tot is a treble.
It used to be the regular challenge in the Clubhouse. In the absence of lime wedges and rock salt – and, frankly, tequila – young fellas on a night out used to challenge the barmaids to knock back a shot of dark rum, while the young fellas did the same.
I suspect they thought that dark rum was so sharp on the tongue and hard on the throat, that the barmaids would make a series of faces before shaking their heads and growling with their tongues out.
I’ve been working on the bar for ten years.
Dark rum is not a challenge.
Largely because it’s a single. A treble would probably put me in hospital. Rock on, the menfolk.