A tale of woe - all true.
Posted: Wed Mar 06, 2019 11:06 pm
A tale of woe:
Several years ago I went to see my parents. Me and Dad didn’t really get on very well and I hadn’t seen them for a while. I know, I am a bad son.
I was offered some ‘home brew’ by my dad, and being almost teetotal, I attempted avoidance but failed miserably.
When the ‘home brew’ arrived, I was extremely surprised to discover that it was Irish Whisky, and even more surprised to discover that it was actually drinkable.
My Dad had always liked a drink, and as he spent the last 30 years of kids life extremely ill, he was never flush with cash, and had been introduced to the air still by a guy in the pub and off he went.
We spent the afternoon discussing his new found hobby and my brain went into overdrive.
My own poor health had limited my earning potential, but circumstances meant I was in a position to flog a bit of grog to some of the ‘professional’ drivers I worked with and supervised. An air still was quickly sourced from eBay and I was in business, and for a while I did a brisk trade and mainly by trial and error I learned a lot.
My health deteriorated somewhat and couldn’t manage work, so after a year battling with the management, I took a small payoff and medically retired. I have always been a bit handy with a computer and decided that I was going to make my fortune selling Still Spirits products online and would become a big time distiller and bought a T500.
Richard at Love to Brew was a really helpful and friendly guy, but wouldn’t sell to me, even when I offered to buy several thousand pounds worth of stock, but he did sell me the T500.
Around this time my marriage broke up and I moved into a small flat and For a neighbour had an alcoholic Scotsman I shall refer to as ‘Horrible Bastard’.
I quickly got the measure of the T500 and extended my client base and before long I was supplying many public houses with Whisky, Vodka, Gin & Rum, along with a couple of shops, one of which took a third of my produce.
At my peak I had 7 washes constantly fermenting and I was distilling 6 days a week, some days I would do two runs, and at Christmas , I just couldn’t keep up. I also had Horrible Bastard. He quickly ran up a large tab and although I didn’t want anything to do with the git, I was a bit snookered, so I just sucked it up.
I used to take him to the cash & carry and he would do the fetching and carrying ( I used a LOT of sugar) and he used to work off some of his habit that way. Horrible Bastard introduced me to a working, functioning alcoholic called Stupid Pissartist.
Stupid Pissartist drank a lot (Horrible Bastard did too, tbh) and these two hated each other. Between the two of them they would take a dozen bottles of whisky a week, often more. SP always paid and HB seldom paid, but as I say, I put up with it and HB resented me for it. He thought I had an agenda when I didn’t bother about him freeloading.
One day Horrible Bastard threatened me and I refused to supply his booze. Stupid Pissartist took him to task about him threatening me ( I am a nice bloke) and was almost beaten to death by HB for his troubles.
The Rozzers and the ambulance turned up at the same time and took an alcoholic each, whereupon Horrible proceeded to tell the Rozzers everything he knew.
Ordinarily, the authorities are not too bothered about our little hobby, but they don’t like you making money out of it. They don’t like various alcoholics setting about each other with pickaxe handles and the local council are extremely touchy about these things.
The top and bottom of it was that I sold my still to one of my customers, 70 pr so bottles of finest was confiscated, the Rozzers sat me down and left me in no doubt as to how many spoons I would get with my porridge if I were to continue.
The council threatened to evict me and insisted that I give a written undertaking not to use their flat as a distillery and made several surprise inspections so as to be totally sure I was being a good boy.
Two good things came out of this:
In an attempt to keep my mind occupied I went to university and the guy who left school with one o level was awarded a first class degree some 35 years after leaving school and Horrible Bastard has drunk himself into a wheelchair. I am told he will be dead soon, which is nice.
I don’t distil now, and it is a shame. The progress made since I gave up is incredible, but I can enjoy your stories and I do appear to have a place keeping our little board running, so all isn’t lost.
Enjoy your hobby people and perfect your skills. Share your knowledge and make friends, but never, ever, ever sell your shit..
Several years ago I went to see my parents. Me and Dad didn’t really get on very well and I hadn’t seen them for a while. I know, I am a bad son.
I was offered some ‘home brew’ by my dad, and being almost teetotal, I attempted avoidance but failed miserably.
When the ‘home brew’ arrived, I was extremely surprised to discover that it was Irish Whisky, and even more surprised to discover that it was actually drinkable.
My Dad had always liked a drink, and as he spent the last 30 years of kids life extremely ill, he was never flush with cash, and had been introduced to the air still by a guy in the pub and off he went.
We spent the afternoon discussing his new found hobby and my brain went into overdrive.
My own poor health had limited my earning potential, but circumstances meant I was in a position to flog a bit of grog to some of the ‘professional’ drivers I worked with and supervised. An air still was quickly sourced from eBay and I was in business, and for a while I did a brisk trade and mainly by trial and error I learned a lot.
My health deteriorated somewhat and couldn’t manage work, so after a year battling with the management, I took a small payoff and medically retired. I have always been a bit handy with a computer and decided that I was going to make my fortune selling Still Spirits products online and would become a big time distiller and bought a T500.
Richard at Love to Brew was a really helpful and friendly guy, but wouldn’t sell to me, even when I offered to buy several thousand pounds worth of stock, but he did sell me the T500.
Around this time my marriage broke up and I moved into a small flat and For a neighbour had an alcoholic Scotsman I shall refer to as ‘Horrible Bastard’.
I quickly got the measure of the T500 and extended my client base and before long I was supplying many public houses with Whisky, Vodka, Gin & Rum, along with a couple of shops, one of which took a third of my produce.
At my peak I had 7 washes constantly fermenting and I was distilling 6 days a week, some days I would do two runs, and at Christmas , I just couldn’t keep up. I also had Horrible Bastard. He quickly ran up a large tab and although I didn’t want anything to do with the git, I was a bit snookered, so I just sucked it up.
I used to take him to the cash & carry and he would do the fetching and carrying ( I used a LOT of sugar) and he used to work off some of his habit that way. Horrible Bastard introduced me to a working, functioning alcoholic called Stupid Pissartist.
Stupid Pissartist drank a lot (Horrible Bastard did too, tbh) and these two hated each other. Between the two of them they would take a dozen bottles of whisky a week, often more. SP always paid and HB seldom paid, but as I say, I put up with it and HB resented me for it. He thought I had an agenda when I didn’t bother about him freeloading.
One day Horrible Bastard threatened me and I refused to supply his booze. Stupid Pissartist took him to task about him threatening me ( I am a nice bloke) and was almost beaten to death by HB for his troubles.
The Rozzers and the ambulance turned up at the same time and took an alcoholic each, whereupon Horrible proceeded to tell the Rozzers everything he knew.
Ordinarily, the authorities are not too bothered about our little hobby, but they don’t like you making money out of it. They don’t like various alcoholics setting about each other with pickaxe handles and the local council are extremely touchy about these things.
The top and bottom of it was that I sold my still to one of my customers, 70 pr so bottles of finest was confiscated, the Rozzers sat me down and left me in no doubt as to how many spoons I would get with my porridge if I were to continue.
The council threatened to evict me and insisted that I give a written undertaking not to use their flat as a distillery and made several surprise inspections so as to be totally sure I was being a good boy.
Two good things came out of this:
In an attempt to keep my mind occupied I went to university and the guy who left school with one o level was awarded a first class degree some 35 years after leaving school and Horrible Bastard has drunk himself into a wheelchair. I am told he will be dead soon, which is nice.
I don’t distil now, and it is a shame. The progress made since I gave up is incredible, but I can enjoy your stories and I do appear to have a place keeping our little board running, so all isn’t lost.
Enjoy your hobby people and perfect your skills. Share your knowledge and make friends, but never, ever, ever sell your shit..
