An endearing description of a local shop (local, as in only a few miles’ rugged road away), unable to fulfill the customer’s order but wanting to be helpful anyway, and so chucking in a completely unrelated product. Given that Gavin Maxwell needed the meths for cooking, he’d presumably have had to cook the sausages over a fire.

‘Inside was a pencil note which I deciphered with difficulty: “Sorry no methylated spirits but am sending you two pounds of sausages instead.”‘

 

Source: Gavin Maxwell, Ring of Bright Water (London: Penguin, 1974), p. 39

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