Having just read William Sitwell’s piece in today’s Telegraph
I once asked the former assistant of my great-uncle, the writer Osbert Sitwell, about his late employer’s drinking habits. “For the last 15 years of his life Sir Osbert never drank,” Frank Magro told me.
“Really,” I said. “Not even wine?”
“But of course,” Magro replied quickly, “Sir Osbert drank wine.” Since then, I’ve worked to assume that mantle of sobriety trying only to ever drink wine. Or champagne, which is wine. As is port. And sherry.
So there you go. I’ll be dry like Sir Osbert!