'Father's Day beers brewed up some happy memories from the past for me'

Father's Day was months ago, but my prezzie was still sitting in the fridge.

Our younger daughter (a sprightly 60, if you must know) bought me a box set of beers brewed for allotmenteers. In a snazzy case titled The Thirsty Gardener, they’re billed as “The perfect way to quench your thirst after a day in the garden”.

As Salford-born fifties comedian Al Read used to say, “You’ll be lucky, I say you’ll be lucky.” A whole day on the land? I’d need a blood transfusion, not a gottle of geer. But it looks good. Gardener’s Rest, a golden premium ale, 4.7%; Bee’s Knees, a refreshing crisp ale, 4.5% and Shear Genius, a smooth ruby ale, also 4.5%

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All stronger than I would order in the pub, and brewed in the Staffordshire Moorlands – in, I surmise, Cheddleton, near Leek. I’ve been there, for a trip on the Churnet Valley heritage steam railway.

Back to the beer. It beats weeding, but three half-litre bottles is just a tad too much for me on my own. With whom to share this bounty?

It should be Mick the parkie/litter picker, but Mrs R has rediscovered a taste for beer – she’s not really a wine woman – so the delicious duty was down to her.

They tasted fine. I managed two, and she did one. Her preference usually runs to John Smith’s bitter, of which I’m not a fan though I drink it in Skipton Working Men’s Club, faute de mieux as the French say. One more case of me being Jack Sprat and her being Mrs S, she would say.

But it was kind of Josephine to indulge her aged dad. Another year, she bought me a £20 garden voucher but, I’m afraid, it’s still in the letter rack.

There’s no plant centre near here likely to accept it, though these things should have an indefinite validity. Still, seeing it there always reminds me of her, the tiny baby born in the kitchen of our student flat in Nottingham all those years ago.