My First Drink

As a young child, I remember witnessing people crafting their own beer and wine long before the internet became ubiquitous. My older brother, in particular, had a passion for brewing, and I can vividly recall the sight of a demijohn fermenting in the corner of our room. While the details of how he started brewing escape me, I distinctly recall a cautionary tale about the dangers of consuming potato wine, which could lead to blindness. Additionally, I have memories of spotting bottles of his homemade brew neatly stored in the cupboard, each adorned with handwritten labels.

Back in the 1960s, during my youth, I frequently accompanied my father to the working man's club. This establishment served as a haven where local families would convene to unwind and connect after a strenuous week. In the bar room, patrons engaged in friendly games, while in the concert room, bingo was the activity of choice before the evening's entertainment commenced, often featuring a singer or a stand-up act. It was a cherished tradition, offering both relaxation and camaraderie to all who attended.

As children, we would dash around outdoors near the club, only darting inside briefly to quench our thirst with a refreshing juice from our parents. Later on, we'd settle down with Mum, keeping quiet as she focused on her bingo cards. Together as a family, we'd eagerly await the start of the entertainment, relishing the time spent together before eventually heading home. It was a simple yet cherished routine, filled with warmth and fond memories.

As I grew older in the 1970s, my taste in beverages shifted from juice to something more robust. One day, my dad introduced me to proper shandy—a concoction comprising equal parts beer and lemonade. I found the taste of shandy surprisingly enjoyable, and it bestowed upon me a sense of maturity, as if I were truly becoming one of the guys. It was a subtle yet significant gesture from my dad, acknowledging my transition into adulthood and fostering a sense of camaraderie between us.

One day in the mid-1970s, during a visit to the club with my dad, he surprised me by offering a cider instead of my usual shandy. Initially taken aback, I decided to give it a try. To my astonishment, cider quickly became my new favorite drink. However, as the 1980s rolled around and I began frequenting town establishments with friends, the simplicity of ordering "x pints of lager" or bottles led me to adopt lager as my beverage of choice. Despite its popularity among my peers, I found lager too fizzy for my liking, often resulting in unpleasant repercussions the next morning.

In the mid-1980s, I shifted away from the nightlife scene and primarily enjoyed cider at home or during social gatherings with friends and family. This routine persisted for quite some time. However, in 2003, during a visit to town to catch up with a friend at his workplace, he extended an invitation to a nearby pub after his shift. Initially hesitant, as I had distanced myself from town drinking for years, I eventually relented and joined him. We ordered pints of cider and settled in for a chat before I headed home. It was a simple yet unexpectedly enjoyable return to the pub atmosphere after so long.

I found solace in the quiet ambiance of the pub, even amidst the bustling crowds. It became a regular haunt for my friend and me, where we'd indulge in cider and engaging conversations. Over time, we became familiar faces to both the regular patrons and the staff, who effortlessly anticipated our drink preferences as soon as we walked through the door.

What made this pub particularly special was its in-house brewery, which consistently produced a selection of unique beers available on hand pumps. Intrigued by this offering, we decided to venture away from our usual cider and sample one of the pub's brewed beers. From the very first sip, I was captivated by the rich flavors and quality of the brew. From that moment on, cider became a beverage reserved for home consumption, where I'd opt for the most economical options available. The bottled and canned beers from local shops paled in comparison to the exquisite brews crafted right at the pub.

Over 20 years later in 2023 real ale is my main drink now with a cider once in a while and a shorts even less so, unless I can get Ouzo or a Black Sambuca, I'm still going in to town most weeks to that same pub drinking old and new beers brewed on site, and drinking with old and new friends.As the years passed, my friend gradually stopped joining me at the pub. However, I found new companions and drinking companions to share the experience with. Now, over two decades later in 2023, real ale has become my primary beverage of choice, with cider making only occasional appearances and shots from the bar optics even rarer, unless I can indulge in Ouzo or Black Sambuca.

Despite the changes in companionship and drinking habits, one thing remains constant: my weekly visits to that familiar old pub in town. There, I continue to savor both the timeless favorites and the newly brewed beers, all while enjoying the company of both old and newfound friends. It's a tradition that has stood the test of time, providing me with a sense of comfort and camaraderie that I treasure dearly.