Sherry

This is a glass of Sherry, in a whisky glass.

We have no Sherry glasses. This is because I’ve not tasted Sherry since the age of nine. Yes, nine.

I’ve had asthma as long as I can remember and, when I was a kid, medication was pretty much non-existant. My own treatment mostly consisted of tranquelisers, with the aim of preventing me from exerting myself, thus triggering an attack. There were some pills in the event of an asthma attack, but they were ineffective.

Now this is weird, since inhalers were available. Che Guevara used French inhalers, which I assume we’re something like the current mainstream reliever. Of course, these weren’t readily available in Bolivia, resulting in the inevitable attack, delay and capture (the rest is history).

In the UK, I can’t say why Ventolin (I’ll use the brand name) also wasn’t available in the UK all those years ago. Maybe the drug was accessible then, but it was never offered to me. Or maybe it wasn’t available on the NHS.

Anyway, my parents heard that Sherry was beneficial for asthma sufferers. We’re not talking about keeping kids quiet by getting them drunk; rather, a small glass each evening to relax the patient.

My first glass of Sherry would have been at the age of eight. It tasted vile and it took a lot of encouragement to make me drink it. However, after a few weeks, it began to taste nice.

A few weeks ago, I bought a bottle from Tesco. It was labeled Jerez Xeres, so I knew that meant it didn’t contain fish (or other animal) bits. It sat in the wine rack since.

For some reason, I decided to try some this evening (why would it work? .

And it was (is) truly disgusting. I think I’ll stick with my inhaler.