Since when is it too much trouble to serve proper tomato juice?

‘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. You know the drill, it’s the little things that get me.

I immediately went into one because I cannot understand why asking a bartender to make a tomato juice from scratch is considered beyond the call of duty these days. What is so arduous about opening two little bottles of Britvic, emptying them into a glass with some ice, adding a good splash of Lea and Perrins and Tabasco and stirring? Perhaps garnishing with a nice slice or two of crisp celery? Hmm?

But, no, that’s way too much trouble. They have to buy in pre-made stuff that they promise has spice already in but you can’t taste the spice. Of course you can’t. And though you try, you can’t taste the tomatoes either. All you can taste is generic red-flavoured mush.

‘Why!’ I gasped, as I slumped in front of the mush.

‘Oh lord,’ said dad.

The Builder Boyfriend turned to my father and the two of them exchanged woeful glances.

My mother didn’t flinch. ‘It’s ridiculous,’ she agreed. ‘Not being able to make a simple tomato juice properly. What is wrong with people?’

‘Exactly.’ I said. Clearly, I would need to post this trauma on Facebook. It was the only way to deal with it. I got out my iPhone but there was no reception.