I really can't remember how old I was. I do know that I may possibly still have been in short trousers. It was, as they said, a thing then. You got long trousers when you went to big school.

That’s not the point however, the important point is when did real cider enter my world? It was a Christmas and my father returned from shopping with two demi-johns of what looked like cold tea. I can't even remember if there were any labels on it. I certainly had no idea where it had come from. I wasn’t even sure what it was. But it was positioned as our little treat.

For the duration of Christmas holidays we were to be allowed one tumbler of this strange liquid per night and I was appointed as drinks monitor. Primarily because handling such a monstrous container was fraught with challenges. So every evening, with me in charge the siblings would gather round for their tumbler of what we now think was real or proper cider. This exotic, very slightly alcoholic orangey brown liquid was treated like a rare treasure. Some of my siblings slowly sipped it making one tumbler last all evening. To this day, real flat raw proper cider evokes those memories of short trousers and Demi-Johns.  As in fact does Christmas.

So the strong apple flavours, the spicy, warm tannins and that little alcoholic hit still
evoke memories of short trousers and wrangling demi-johns. Although I have to blame my father who started me on this great journey of discovery and a lifetime love of fermented apples.