White Out!
For reasons I'll probably never understand, my paternal grandfather has harboured a lifelong abhorrence of white vehicles. I've heard that in decades past, white was the default paint colour of automotive manufacturers unless one paid extra, so perhaps he associates it with distasteful frugality. It could also just be a strongly held conviction without any sound justification—it’s occasionally been pointed out that us Drinkles can be particularly opinionated people.
The Art of Discovery
The Renascence of a Forgotten Style
Nobody can be good at everything, and any wine shop that tries to excel in all categories will at best achieve consistent mediocrity. It's known to our frequent customers that, of all French regions, Metrovino ignores Bordeaux. The reasons for this are unimportant, and to tackle them exhaustively would comprise a separate and far lengthier article than the one that you've presently committed to. However, a partial justification of our stance can be made while circuitously endorsing the "sale wine” that precedes this pedantic piece of writing.
A Letter From a Concerned Friend
Dear Tom,
I'm writing to emphatically thank you for allowing me to make use of your cabin for a few days. I'm sure that you can relate to the magic of how a modest abode, a mere 50 minutes from the city, can prove to be so effective at banishing one's urban sorrows. Free from the quotidian oppression that can seem inescapable in Calgary, I can be as creative and prolific here during a “retreat” of a couple days as I might be over an entire month in the city.
