So I was sitting on my usual 11:30 am perch, as I do everyday at roughly this time. I won’t say where exactly, however, to the males reading this it’s the place you sit and feel at your most relaxed, unless it was a heavy night before, you’re ill or if you have been on you smart phone and leaning on your knees until your legs go numb.

Anyway while sitting there contemplating this week’s Gin Club post. I started to think at what point I started liking Gin and I can remember it exactly. Best start from the beginning….

So my Dad (the old fart Stewart Macdonald) loves Gin, however, he speaks of a time where the mere smell of the stuff used to make him wretch. I also had the same experience. Any of my friends will know I never really took to drinking with the rest. I hated the smell and taste of all booze. I always imagined red wine would taste like Ribena – it doesn’t and has been a disappointment ever since.

So, I had this distaste for alcohol (which isn’t a bad thing, in Scotland it’s just considered weird). What I did have a taste for, was making and serving it to my Dad. I apparently pour the best Gin and Tonics in the Macdonald household, well I did, now my eight year old nephew does, start them young eh? I remember pouring Gin and neither enjoying the smell nor the wee sip I would take just to confirm that I indeed didn’t like it. Eventually I accepted this fact and stopped.

One night whilst still at University I was out in Perth and a girl I knew happened to be there, I think her name was Lyndsay Buchan (if you’re reading this or know of her, tell her I missed the boat and it plagued me for a few months as you/she, is/was hot). We were chatting away in Sportsters (local pub/nightclub) whilst queuing at the bar. She asks “Do you want a drink?”, of course I said “Yes”. At this point in my life I was pretty strict with what I drank, Jack Daniels and Pepsi or nothing at all. “Good” she replied, “I’m drinking Gin”, naturally I thought, hey, I could be in here. So, obviously I said, “Cool I will have one of those too” (knowing full well I couldn’t stand it).

Whilst debating who was paying for this round, I go into my wallet to pull out a £20 note and a condom falls out. She picks it up and says, “Someone’s sure of himself”. Red faced I reply “I would rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it”. Yes that was cool of me, however, it was a long time ago and I no doubt didn’t execute it in such a smooth manner. Anyway, we sat down and drank the Gins.

That night I loved Gin, it tasted so fresh, clean almost. It was citrusy and cold. The Gins went down better than the Jack. From then on in, all I drank was Gin and Tonic. My Dad’s bottles didn’t last as long and he stopped getting me to pour them.

I will say that not all food stuffs that I have tried because of a hot woman have worked out so well. Dundee German market for example. Hot olive girl handing out free olives. I put one in my mouth and chew, she says “Good?”. “Yes” I grimace back. I rapidly excuse myself and spit the thing out. Caldo quips “I knew you didn’t like olives”. “Aye, but she was hot”. Olive fail.

I haven’t seen Lyndsay Buchan in about eight years; I think she moved to Australia. But anyway, thanks for making me like Gin.

Squirrel