Every Sunday, the wider family in Kilmaurs gathers after church at Arran View. I’m about 7 years old. Our family are staying with my grandparents and my friends, Shona and Douglas, have come with us. The adults are having aperitifs (sherry or whisky) in the living room, and we children will be having Curries’ Red Kola.
There is just one significant problem: On the sideboard is ranged an assortment of glasses, some tall; some wide; some with indents; some smooth, and there is not enough of the same sort for all us. The choice of glass could influence the share of Kola each child receives. We line up at the table. The tension is palpable. Who will get the lion’s share of Kola and who will be short-changed? We eye the glasses, and then each other, with a mix of longing, suspicion and rivalry.
Uncle Willie, my Gran’s brother, steps up to the sideboard, and assumes responsibility for the Great Decanting of the 1983 Cuvée Rouge. Douglas, emboldened by the presence of an adult, kicks off proceedings by stating his preference for the tall glass.
Silent outrage emanates from Shona and me. Katie is only little but she senses the height of the stakes and pushes to the front.
“Oh?” responds my Great Uncle. “Is that so? Very well.” He begins to pour, slowly, steadily, and deliberately.
“But that will mean he gets the most!”, Shona blurts out what we’re all thinking. I’m mindful my parents are in earshot, but secretly glad that someone has pointed out what is clearly a terrible injustice.
“Aha!”, Uncle Willie exclaims, “That’s what you’d THINK, wouldn’t you! But look …”
He finishes pouring the Kola into the tall glass destined for Douglas and then, with a flourish, pours its contents into a shorter, wider glass. He stops and steps back from the glasses to allow each and every one of us, including Katie, to observe the results. We stand in a solemn semi-circle in front of the glasses, looking for a hole in his argument, but finding none.
“Now!”, He continues, “We’ll use this glass as the measure and fill the others equally”.
Douglas, suddenly seeing the possibility of the balance being tipped against him despite his initially strong position, retorts, “But you didn’t fill my glass up to the top! How will you know the others are getting the same?”
We all see the point of this and squawk our agreement that the whole transaction might still not be as fair as Uncle Willie is pointing out. Katie is not sure what exact point has been made but she points at a random glass insistently, and makes loud noises along with the rest of us, being keenly aware that she has yet to taste this magical ruby liquid, which is just now the subject of such contention.
Uncle Willie silences us all with a raised index finger. We are transfixed. He sweeps deftly out of the room and returns after a few minutes with a wooden ruler. Not one of us have moved a millimetre from the spot he left us. Something momentous is happening, we are aware. Our impatience for Kola melts in anticipation.
The ruler is brandished like a fine blade, and placed against the tall glass. Our eyes collectively widen further at this. Uncle Willie then proceeds to pour the Kola back into the tall glass from the short, fat one. He stoops down until he is at eye level with the surface of the liquid. Without taking his eyes for a second off the glass, its contents, and the benchmark his arm reaches out and a hand is placed on Douglas’ shoulder, drawing him towards the glass.
“What number is there next to the top of the Kola?”, he enquires.
Douglas peers at the ruler. “Four”, he offers. “But the juice is higher than the four”.
“How many marks more?”, Uncle Wille asks, urgently.
Douglas again approaches the ruler and his lips move as he counts the marks on the ruler: “Six.”
“Right!”, Uncle Willie declares decisively.
He then pours the liquid in the glass out. “We’ll start fresh so everyone gets the fizz.”
The ruler is applied to the side of the tall glass. Liquid is poured in to the four inches and six mark, with deep concentration and great precision. The same liquid is carefully poured into a plastic glass and passed to Katie, who receives the glass reverently, as if it were the Blood of Christ.
The same process is then followed to furnish Shona and me with a glass each of Curries Red Kola. Each of us in turn receive the glass with awe.
Finally Douglas, who chose the tall glass, sees it filled to the exact same level as was poured at the start. Uncle Willie turns to him, his bright blue eyes shining with the reflected joy and wonder he sees in our little faces, and bestows the prize upon its claimant.
Satisfied that justice has been done, and amazed at the miracle witnessed, we each drink the most delicious Kola that has ever been tasted.
Me, Uncle Willie, Katie, Stuart
Gran and Aunt Marion
Many years after.
