Back in my halcyon days - the early seventies - we spent much of our time going to parties as young people are wont to do. Nowadays I spend most of my time trying to avoid them. Generally I find parties quite awful affairs, I think I did back then too. Don't get me wrong, I'm a very sociable person and I love spontaneous get-togethers and, as one or two readers may be happy to agree, I'm in my element as mien host. However, parties have always instilled some general feeling of misgiving, a feeling that I would be better off somewhere else.
Of course, when you go to a party you are expected to take along a bottle of something or some cans of beer. This is only polite. What we did was to take along a Watney's Party Seven. I think we bought one for one of our own parties (obviously ours were the exceptions to the awful parties we endured) but somehow never opened it. Now, young men and a large amount of beer, why on earth had we not opened it? Well, for the simple reason that it was disgusting. To be perfectly honest, its very existence probably single-handedly kick-started the CAMRA movement.
Basically, we kept it hanging around for months on end purely just to take to parties. Normally you would leave the booze you took to a party at the host's house, it is simply the polite thing to do. Well, except in the case of a Watney's Party 7. The hosts usually asked you to take it away with you - its reputation was that poor!
So at some stage, some poor sod was digging the garden with a garden fork and most likely pierced the said can and was sprayed with stale 1970s beer. That must have caused a few scratched heads wondering how that got there.
So, apologies to whoever that poor soul was. They probably still wonder about it to this day . . .