We sit in silence as I take in the warmth of the fire, the smell of the wine in the glass and just the presence of the room.
He picks up an ember from the fire and uses it to relight the cigar held firmly in his thick, wrinkled fingers.
“Please Sir, tell me again about your amazing escape and the trek through Africa”, I find myself imploring and breaking the silence.
“Now sonny, best you be getting another bottle then, the Orchestra looks good. And none of this Sir crap, call me Winston… or Mr C if you must”.