And would you believe that the shiny new Bombay Sapphire distillery is half-way between my parents' and Ellen and Meg? Where better to meet?! So after a delicious lunch at the Watership Down Inn (yes, rabbit was on the menu) we wandered through the village of Laverstoke, past thatched cottages, until we came to the old brick mill where every drop of Bombay in the world is distilled.
The place is beautiful and everyone should go, with a crystal millstream running down from the nearby chalk hills and gin coming out the other end. You can wander through greenhouses stocked with botanicals, view the giant copper stills where the magic happens, sniff your way through various herbs and spices to pick your favourite cocktail, and then drink gin. Lots of gin.
It's a full "brand experience", my business-attuned wife tells me, and she seems to be right. Scratch below the surface - where much is made of the historic setting and a gin recipe from the 1700s - and you find that Bombay Sapphire was invented in 1987 by an American lawyer who wanted booze that screamed "olde Britain!" to sell to the American market.
But who cares when you have all this gin to drink? Hannah polished off her share, and then designated drivers Ellen and mine, but sadly the bar refused to serve Goddaughter Meg when she was sent to order more. We drove home past Stonehenge and back to Grandma and Grandpa who had enjoyed their own magical day looking after Pete. I didn't ask how much gin they'd employed to get through that.
No one does history (real or otherwise) like us Brits.
Meg, only slightly younger than Bombay Sapphire herself.
You've got to teach your Godchildren right from wrong. Gin = right.
What a party looks like.
The stunning, modern greenhouses inside the mill.
Natives inside.
Hannah sticks her nose in.
The "ancient" copper stills.
Bombay Sapphire, enjoyed by many generations.
