Smitten as I am by the notion of a thousand ships gliding in the glorious wake of HM's barge, I propose the nth of a flotilla of toasts to summer. As you can see, I have finally halved and juiced the grapefruit you left behind, and Ethan has shaken me up a comely beverage that is as yet unnamed. Shall I call it The High Tea Pinky? You be the judge!
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