Pimm's

I ordered Pimm’ses for us both and Spike gave me a funny look.

It was only four thirty but Gerald was marking his guests’ arrival with a Pimm’s, and Lady Partridge, with her son as her licence, accompanied him in a gin and Dubonnet.

Mum waded though Red’s excitement with a tea-towel in one hand and a Pimm’s in the other. Dad likes them strong, but cucumberless.

Steeped cucumber ratafia with Pimm’s and Sprite is garnished with a squash blossom at T’afia in Houston.

I cut past the Free Hospital, where staffers contradictorily smoke out front—down Haverstock, past the Hampstead Hill school sign advertising a pimm’s and strawberries on the lawn benefit, past the brilliantly named Downside Crescent, and on to the Legal Inn.

“I’ve brought the requested Pimm’s.” She put the glasses down in front of us. “Pimm’s cups are traditionally made with lemonade, lemon soda, and ginger beer. We add Créole Shrubb.” […] “Pimm’s is the drink to order at Polo matches.[…]”

She will have two Pimm’s and then go home before it gets late. The bar only stocks Pimm’s for her, it is an old, English summer drink and no one has ever ordered it but her.