DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. 
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First up this week: Deptford … 
The Elizabethan playwright Christopher Marlowe was killed during an alleged drunken brawl in Eleanor Bull's house in Deptford Strand in May 1593. Marlowe had spent all day with three men: Ingram Frizer, Nicholas Skeres and Robert Poley. Marlowe snatched Frizer's dagger and began attacking him. According to the coroner's report, Marlowe was accidentally stabbed above the right eye, killing him instantly. The jury concluded that Frizer acted in self-defence, and within a month he was pardoned. Marlowe was buried in an unmarked grave in the churchyard of St. Nicholas, Deptford, on 1 June 1593.

Second up this week, Drambuie … 
An award-winning dram, Drambuie is a sweet, golden coloured 40% ABV liqueur made from Scotch whisky, heather honey, herbs and spices. I remember it in my parents' home, somehow related to the holiday season. So Scottishy! Drambuie was first commercially produced in Union Street in Edinburgh in 1910. Only twelve cases were originally sold. In 1916, Drambuie became the first liqueur to be allowed in the cellars of the House of Lords and Drambuie began to ship worldwide to British Army officers' messes. Do I drink Drambuie? No. But I feel I should begin doing so. Pater and Mater clearly thought it something special. At least a bit of holiday tipple.

Third up this week, Dough … 
I'm an unrepentent fan of the Great British Bake Off. Season 14 is in the books. This little empire of dough seduced me from the outset. I rewatch episode after episode. I shout at the competitors on screen. I'm outraged by the judges, and how I perceive them to be unfair to my favorites. And I continue to watch. Here's a bit from The Guardian about the season 14 finals … "The bakers are virtually identical, the format repetitive, the standards low – we've just seen everything on this show far too many times before. Until one final moment livens things up … "Boring is too strong a word," said Paul Hollywood, “but it’s on its way." He was talking about a showstopper cake presented to him by Josh, a Leicestershire 27-year-old who hoped his three-tiered celebration of the English seasons, complete with a biscuit greenhouse, would win him series 14 of The Great British Bake Off. But the veteran judge could have been referring to this year's final … Josh seemed the obvious winner from the start of the last episode, despite presenters and judges trying to impress us with his rivals' achievements in earlier rounds. "They've all had a handshake!” protested Prue Leith, referring to the gesture of approval that used to be sporadic and understated, but which has now become awkward and somehow slightly icky. Perhaps we have just seen everything in this show one too many times.
Josh's three sponges were fully covered and stood up straight. It seemed that all he had to do to win was not faceplant into his buttercream on the walk to the judging table. But, as he sampled Josh’s work, Hollywood bristled. The flavours were only "adequate"! The sponge was overbaked! The design was on the way to boring! Matty’s sponges had been wonderfully light … Outside in the sunshine, the winner was announced: Matty Edgell had come from nowhere to triumph. In its very last moments, an undercooked series finally sprinkled some spice." 
I love it.

Not a slender volume …   
The World in a Wineglass, by Ray Isle
There's nothing slender about this 700+ page book. I'm charmed by its contents, if not by its weight and heft. There's so much to explore here! "With authority and charm, Ray Isle leads readers brilliantly into the world of organic, sustainable, biodynamic, regenerative farming, and also explains what the hell natural wine actually is. This book is for the curious wine drinker looking for both up-and-coming and familiar names in the wine world. I truly enjoyed reading it. Cheers!" —Aldo Sohm, Wine director of Le Bernardin and author of Wine Simple

And a bit more … 

"The night Marlowe died" by Patricia Beer

Christopher Marlowe was a spy, it seems.
His day of pleasure by the River Thames
Should have brought him a handshake and a watch
For faithful service. He had done as much
For anyone who paid him and so had
His three companions. They were really good.

In those days spying was expertly done.
Informers took each other’s washing in.
Double agents cancelled themselves out.
Spying had paid for all the wine and meat
Which filled the little room that day in spring
When Marlowe met a different reckoning.

He had been his usual snorting, railing,
Blasphemous self, but loyal to his calling,
As they all had to be, to live so well.
He sang a noisy song before he fell,
A dagger stuck in his eye after the feast
As though the Cross had got to him at last.

They saw each other home after his death.
The rats had tired, the streets were out of breath.
Somewhere asleep, the top spymasters lay
Unpicking webs that they had spun by day.
Somewhere, across the park, a peacock’s cries
Bewailed the pointlessness of murdering spies.


And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's "Sometimes"

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.