The taxi driver was confused when I said I was going to a gin festival. I suppose it isn’t your usual Friday night out.
When I was at university the twelfth gin made me cry. But that was terrible gin and, well it probably wasn’t twelve since I usually lost count around six.
I don’t drink gin in excess anymore. A beverage that I associate with weeping isn’t usually my first choice. Although I do really really like it. It reminds me of trips to the pub with my friends at 21. And Christmas.
So when my friend asked me to drink gin on a Friday night I jumped at the chance. A night out with a very good friend and the chance to drink gin, listen to music and try to stay vertical? What’s not to like.
I didn’t realise there were over 100 types of gin. I also hadn’t fully appreciated how many types of gin cocktails there are. It’s mind boggling.
In case you, like my taxi driver, are wondering what happens at a gin festival it’s essentially as follows. You buy tokens (4 for £20). You then flick through the brochure of too many gins to comprehend and randomly pick one. You then drink it and go and get another one. Then you drink gin and tonic with gin flavoured ice cream in it through a straw. Then you drink some gin cocktails. You also watch hipsters and ladies in 1950s frocks. And you try not to fall over.
What I learnt was, well I still like gin, Especially good gin (Sir Robin of Locksley is fab and I failed to remember any of the others I tried.). I also learnt that palma violet flavoured gin is just plain wrong.