This simple glass. There’s a story behind it. It was given to me by my father, who died in 2018, he made a point of telling me about its origin and why he was giving it to me. My Mum, who really didn’t get on with my Dad’s mother, gave it to her as a Christmas present in 1965...

She told her it was a special glass all the way from Waterford in Ireland, my Mum was born in Wexford so this was accepted by my Grandmother, however, as my Dad explained, it was a lie, the glass was taken from a long gone local pub one New Years Eve around 1961 or 62...

At the time these glasses were the height of fashion amongst the ladies in the Snugs of pubs and clubs across South Wales, known as a Sherry glass, many were ‘acquired’ for home use at Christmas and Special celebrations. My Grandmother did not know this, she was not a drinker..

But did partake of a bottle of Guinness on a Saturday night “because it’s full of iron” she explained once, anyway, she treasured this glass, and every year after receiving it, she topped it up with her new tipple of Harveys Bristol Cream EVERY Christmas Day and New Years Eve..

My Nan died in May 1993, the previous Christmas had been quite the worst of my life due to self inflicted stupidity, but she insisted that I spend the New Year with her to get away from what I had caused at home. The glass came out, I filled it for her, we toasted the year in..

She then told me all of what she could remember about our family history, talking well into the early hours, clear as a bell, but all the while sipping from the ever frequently topped up glass. She woke me at 9 that morning, a full breakfast waiting for me, the last meal she...

...cooked for me, and it was perfect, even with a hangover. And so, back to the glass, she instructed my Dad to give it to me when he had followed the tradition of a sherry on Christmas Day and New Years Eve to the end of his time, he did this, and now I follow this tradition,

..but with the knowledge that my Mum, my Nan, and my Dad are all linked to this one unassuming plain bit of glassware. My youngest is to take ownership of it after I’ve gone, and I sort of hope this story will stay alive until there’s no-one left to leave it to.

It’s comforting to know that this little glass is sort of priceless in its own way. I hope the memory of the people who drank from it will live on and be remembered is all.