I went to the party to celebrate 60 years of Ambit, the first literary magazine ever to publish my work. (Some very unliterary magazines had previously published some very unliterary stuff of mine). The evening was a poetic rather than gustatory occasion, and it was a good night, but I’d been told beforehand that there’d be a ‘special cocktail’ called the Euphoria Bliss.
Now, fans of the very most obscure literary backwaters may know that Euphoria Bliss was an alumna of Ambit, famous chiefly, and perhaps only, and long before my time, for reading poetry while naked. Or as in this case while wearing a kind of fishing shawl:
Those men’s faces confuse me a little – are they leers, smirks, or are they just embarrassed? Male gaze – minefield innit? In any case it was a different time, and there’s no suggestion that anybody ever coerced Euphoria Bliss into getting naked. This is her too:
Nobody seems to know where she is these days or what’s happened to her. An online search brings up various euphoria blisses including ‘Euphoria Bliss - the number one marketplace for Wellness and Lifestyle.’ Yeah right, but none is the one we’re looking for.
And so, occasional mixologist and magazine lover that I am, and always in search of new taste sensations, I went to get my Euphoria Bliss cocktail.
Need I say I was disappointed? It was a gin and tonic – nice enough its way but neither truly euphoric nor blissful. Nor with a slice of lemon.
So I decided I would go home and make my own small tribute to Euphoria Bliss, a woman I never met but have heard a great deal about. It’s this:
One part gin, three parts pink grapefruit juice, two parts Tia Maria. Works for me. I hope it works for Ms. Bliss, wherever she may be.
Here is the Ambit crowd, looking vaguely sepia.
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