I've just located a first edition of Paradise Lost and settled into a deep leather armchair in the corner.
Cap off: cof-FEE and whisky, with a side order of nutty creme brulee.
Wet: the coffee is slowly giving ground to melting caramel and hot dutch chocolate with parchment ready to pounce from the background.
Dry: The coffee's sauntered off to the next room while my nose is stuck in Professor Henry Jones' Grail Diary. Slanting bars of sunlight warm the old oak floor beneath my feet and outside someone is burning autumn leaves.
