‘I have a feeling,’ said my father, ‘that this evening is not going to go well.’

We were sitting in the bar of a local fish restaurant near my parents’ home having pre-dinner drinks, and I was throwing a wobbly because my tomato juice wasn’t right.

I had arrived at the table after putting my order in as I went off to park the car, only to find a drink in a bottle called Big Tom sitting on the table.