The story I am about to tell is slightly more recent - about 40 years old. It is very much a personal story but it has a bearing on the place of trusted adults in young people's lives.
My parents inherited a valuable French polished drinks cabinet, inside of which were cut glasses of every conceivable shape for every conceivable drink. As a child, this was a mysterious object in the corner of the lounge, for my parents hardly ever drank at all. On the one regular occasion - Christmas - when a glass of sherry was my mother's favourite tipple, she produced a glass, one of a pair, with a cockerel on the side. It was not from the drinks cabinet but from the sideboard in the dining room.
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