1983. The Fire Station Hall School Disco
I’d badgered by parents for weeks to let me go, without the chaperoning influence of my elder sister. One week before the event of the year, they folded under the continuous pressure and agreed.
I was bedecked in my finery, grooving on down to ‘Mirror in the Bathroom’, checking to see if the blond haired god of my dreams was looking my way, when a friend pulled my arm.
Words were whispered in my ear, the only two of which I could make out were “Cinzano” and “outside”.
I was far more interested in catching the eye of my dream boy than standing outside discovering the delights of alcohol, but was finally convinced to sneak outside and sample said delights.
Some lemonade was produced and the friend attempted to pour some into the Cinzano bottle. This resulted in a Cinzano / lemonade volcanic eruption of epic proportions. She shrieked and threw the bottle up in the air.
The bottle flew in my direction with uncanny accuracy. I caught it, upside down, just before it impaled itself in my forehead. I was soaked from head to foot and smelt delightful.
At that moment ‘Blond Dream God’ appeared saying my mum was looking for me inside.
Ground. Swallow. Whole. Please.
I was grounded for a month and had to apologise in person to the Chief Fire Officer for taking alcohol in to the Fire Station.
Somehow I was never believed when I said I hadn’t actually drunk anything.
So, my first alcoholic drink. Consumed by osmosis.