The Lemonade Time Machine

When I asked for lemonade in the cafe in Paris, I didn't expect to be taken on a journey through time.

Back to 1970 in an instant - my second-ever trip to France, to Jullouville in Normandy, camping in a tent.

Of course you couldn't drink the water in France in those days - the Communist spent a lot of time dropping water purification tablets or whatever they were into big plastic bottles of water. And they made the water taste horrible.

So we drank rather a lot of lemonade: I think the Communist rather disapproved of Coke, considering it to be an evil invention of American capitalism.

Lemonade it was, then: and it was called Pschitt, which we found hilarious. Ah, they were simpler times, you know.

(Okay, I still think it's quite funny).

I hadn't seen this interesting brand, or given it a thought, for nearly forty years. And suddenly, there it was, taking me back to the golden sands of Jullouville and collecting cockles to eat, and making friends with a family whose name was Coleman, and reading one night by the light of the lightning in a terrible storm, and being careful how we crossed the big main road from the campsite to the beach, and listening to a commercial on French radio where they sang "Martini Dry est agreable".

Straight back there. I wonder if actually we really forget anything, or if it's all in there somewhere, waiting to be brought back.

And it tasted just the same. It tasted of 1970. In a good way.