In my day no matter what ailed me, my father fixed it up with blackberry brandy. If I ate too much for dinner, and I swore I would explode, Daddy would give me a hefty shot of blackberry brandy. If  I suffered from the trots, out came the bottle of  brandy and I downed it in one gulp. If I complained of a sore throat, he insisted I gargle with it and the best part was I got to swallow. In moments I was singing like a canary, or so I thought.

He also used the brandy as a preventative. If we were all going out caroling or to a community sing we would all drink a Warsaw cocktail before we left the house: vodka, vermouth, blackberry brandy and lemon juice. You can’t beat that for numbing the throat, or the whole body for that matter. Now you’d never do that because you’d be charged with child abuse. Read more...