My dad didn't drink & would hold parties where he'd make the drinks, hold up the glass into which he'd poured a measure, think, "Heh, that's not much" & add another. Every time.
They were great parties 
As children we loved them. Garden full of children running around, house full of music, pissed & happy raucous adults. My older brother had the job of escorting the elderly neighbours home.
So if you see my dad, Zombie dear heart head straight for him, he had the best whiskey.