Having had a rather difficult week, I logged in here to post the weekend theme and go do some reading, only to discover that this hadn’t yet been posted.
OOPS! so here it is, a week late!
It was at the beginning of the school year, when as a new boy I arrived at our school. This school was quite a bit smaller than my previous one, and everyone seemed to know everyone. No chances for any level of anonymity here. The initial shock was lessened by the boy next to me Gunther Hilton-Hyde, who was a very friendly chap and who did all he could to make me feel at home.
His elder brother, Gascon helped us both to adjust, giving us useful tips; especially on how to break rules without being caught, how to hide when a prefect was looking for someone to do some skivvy-work for them, and other such portions of our education that the formal system forgot about.
Two years behind us was Griffith. When he finally joined us at school we all asked why the boys had the names they did in a very English family. They boys joked that they were named after the country their parents had visited when the boys were conceived. No one ever proved or denied the story.
Every year we had a school fete in which every child and their parents were expected to participate. This raised funds that paid for building maintenance and extensions, without adding to the burden of the fees.
In our third year, Gascon was obviously already in the fifth year, and quite grown up. Me had decided on a new stall that year. Exclusively for home-made lemonade.
At the fete, Gascon’s stall was extremely popular. The adults refreshment stall did its usual trade, but the desire for lemonade seemed irresistible for children and those who did not choose alcohol that day.
The hangovers experienced later by all of those who had partaken liberally of the lemonade was later attributed to the probability that it had fermented and created – GASCONADE.
That was the basis of his later fortune, sold correctly as an alcoholic drink for the discerning.