It was Christmas in the 80s. We were over at Dad and Sig’s for Christmas Eve. We had our kids with us and my brothers were there and maybe some aunts and uncles. Sig had made another magnificent meal and most of us had hurt ourselves eating too much.
We retired to the living room for coffee. Dad suggested that he could “Irish up” the coffee with some brandy. We agreed that this would be a good idea.
Dad brought out the brandy and showed me the bottle. Dad explained that this was very expensive brandy and there were a lot of us so we could only have a spoonful each. I stood there, believing him.
Then he gave me a soup ladle.