Wonderful little supper with Marcus and Annie last night, of oxtails bourguignon over rice, with even a glass of good cheap burgundy for Annie and me, halfway through the meal, once Marcus remembered that other people (unlike himself) like to drink it as well as cook with it. I gotta say, my old friend Marcus is one weird fellow, by normal Western European standards: He doesn't like to "drink" with his meals, not even milk or water. The whole business of having a bite of something, then a sip of something to "wash it down," is foreign to him. And he positively dislikes the taste of wine. I call this oddity of his "Haggis genes," because it seems an hereditary quirk, one that he and his late younger brother Syd (who died of lung cancer just a couple of months ago) shared in a degree usually seen only in identical twins. They also similarly detested tofu and hot chilis. One is reminded of Archbishop Benson's sons who were all similarly melancholic.