Paddy was reminiscing.
“An article I read in the Irish Times about fathers and sons turned me mind back to when I took me son out to have his first pint. We headed off to Flannery’s Pub, which is only a couple of blocks from our cottage. To be sure, an’ it’s a fine old Irish tradition we was about, that night…
“I bought the lad a pint of Guinness, sure enough I did, and offered it up to him. He didn’t like it, so I drank it. Following that, I got him a pint of Smithwick’s Finest Ale and, faith, he didn’t like that either so I had to drink it for him.
“A wee setback like that wasn’t goin’ to put me off, so next I bought the lad a Harp Lager. Y’know what? He didn’t like that, and again I ended up drinking his pint.
“It was getting hard to think, what with his drink and my own drink on top of each other, but I reckoned perhaps he didn’t like the hops. In a flash of inspiration, I bought him a Jameson’s. Nope. Wouldn’t touch the whisky, either, so again I ended up with it in me, mine and his.
“Finally, in desperation, I tried him on one of Bulmer’s best ciders but it fell to me again to do the honours.
“An’ that’s how the evenin’ went. By the time I became aware that to the drink he wouldn’ take I was almost too pissed to wheel his pram back home.”