Alcoholic Memories

Old Timer Bemoans the Fact That Drinking Has Become Faddenised

NOW that our long-cherished and very enjoyable Australian drinking habits have been so Faddenised as to make the social drink an act of reckless extrava gance, I am moved to reflect on the alcoholic concoctions with which we beguiled our leisure hours in years gone by.

The older lads will remember the sun-up to breakfast-time sessions on the Mataram, when Bill-the- Barman mixed his gin slings in a large enamel bucket. Pepys has given us recipes for succulent dishes which have now passed into history; and I think the recipe for this should be set down for the benefit of antiquarians.

The basis was one part of a good English dry gin; then 2/3rds of a good cherry brandy, 2/3rds each of French and Italian Vermouth, a dash of Bacardi rum, soda water, a dash of Angastura bitters, and a slice of lemon floating on the top amongst the crushed ice.

One and sixpence was the price then; and, after three or four, I was always ready to climb the highest mountain, or go back to bed again.

Then there was guid Scotch whisky, bottled in Scotland, at 9'3 a bottle at the Ekpro. store in Rabaul, or 87/6 a case of one dozen for the plutocrats. This was the real Mackay—not like a lot of the so-called Scotch sold in Sydney to day in microscopic nips, and which we suspect to be like a lot of Aus tralian Scotchmen—bom out here to save the fare.

What better than to sit down at a marble-top table in Ah Chee’s, or the Rabaul Hotel, and drink our choice of the bottled beers of the world, at 2/- per bottle and no tips.

This was off the ice—not like the drinks at Tosh Schilling’s pub at Madang, in the days when ice was an unknown quantity there.

I remember a tourist dropping into the pub after a warm walk around the environs of Madang, and calling for a glass of beer, “off the ice please, old chappie.”

Tosh slapped down a glass of suds,. and the tourist thrust his nose into it. “I say, old chappie,” he complained, “This is not off the ice.”

“Too blanky right, it is,” said Tosh, “Four hundred blanky miles off it!”

Who could forget the orders which sometimes arrived from isolated plantations for personal supplies to be forwarded by first available schooner; six cases of Red, White and Blue, four cases of beer, and

then, as an after thought, a coupl of dozen tins of tobacco and a cas of Hellabys.

Then we recall the bleak days oi Edie Creek, before the planes startei to run, and grog was unknowr They were the days when, gas tronomically speaking, we lived th lives of monks—without, howeve] being able to drown our sorrows i Benedictine. Later, when beer dl arrive, it was ten shillings a bottl at first, until competition brough the price down to seven shilling: and later on to four shillings.

I remember the time I had an ol chap staying with me at my cam near Wau. He hadn’t been long i; the Territory, and was recoverin from a bad dose of fever.

On this particular morning h was enjoying the sunshine, just out side the hut. I was busy insid preparing a couple of grenadilloe for our refreshment. I enjoy a ni of sherry in the grenadillo, stirre up amongst the juice and seed; On this occasion I had no sherr: so I used a very liberal dose c Scotch whisky as a substitute.

Adding a touch of sugar an stirring up the concoction I took on out to my elderly friend and salt “Try this.”

“What is it?”, he asked.

“It’s a grenadillo,” I answere< “You drink it up with the spoon, “I’ve never seen one before, be I’ll try it,” he replied.

He got busy on it, not knowing i was well laced with whisky. A 100 of blissful astonishment settled o: his face.

When h© had finished I asked hir would he have another.

“My word,” he replied, “You knov you could get two bob each fo these in Sydney!”

What contentment it was, whe: tramping down to the coast, to sto; for a while at some lonely plantatioi and be refreshed with whisky an cool milk from a green coconut; o to partake of a mug of o.p. an black coffee, after a long day’s worl on the claim in the high altitude of the Upper Edie. Finest Demaran Rum, 30 o.p. from MacGillivray’ store, at 25/- per bottle. (Opel Friday nights, and the boss woul< always shout one for the roa< home.) Those days may come again, bu I’m afraid I won’t be there to enjo: them. Never mind! If the Edito: pays me for this I might be able h make a lay-by on a bottle of run for Xmas.