A few days ago, I had to go to the pharmacy to get our son’s prescription filled.

I was surprised when the pharmaceutical assistant pointed out the issue date. It had been posted by error for 01 July when the current date was 02 September. She went on to explain she could not fill the prescription as is. Only if I paid in cash, I could take home the medication. I dished out € 469,90, picked up the prescription, and called the doctor’s office.

After I briefly explained the situation and asked for a correct prescription to be sent by mail, I heard the doctor’s assistant saying, “OK.”. I waited two more seconds to hear a simple “Tut mir leid”, but instead she responded with, “Yes, we will mail it to you”. And the receiver was slammed down.

I received the correct prescription in today’s mail and have to return to the pharmacy once more to reclaim the funds.

They must have had some office problems, obviously. But friendly customer service and the usage of a simple apology are not on their maintenance list.

Sorry to have bothered you, Frau Naumann.

On our last visit, my brother pulled out this demijohn of forgotten Zwetschgenschnaps (plum schnaps) from the former beet cellar. It must have been sitting there for ages.

As we all figured, this high level of alcohol could not go bad, so we had a shot of it. It tasted like a 50% proof Schnaps!

My parents had kept several of these Schnaps Glasballons (demijohns), secured in a straw basket, for our well being. Way back, when we had a toothache and no dentist in the village, we were given shots to numb the pain. My aunt used the Schnaps for swathing her lower legs against some other pain. When our colds got too heavy, we got a shot of Schnaps in our tea before going to bed.

I never saw any adults drinking Schnaps for the fun of it. It was considered medicine only in our childhood.

Schnaps served the old-fashioned way

Two days ago we had a shot of this Schnaps for fun only!! This glass bottle holds about 20 litres of it.

As the procedure of making Schnaps and keeping it in a Ballon, must be a relic from the 60s, I knew I must have  had my hands in its making. Back then, my spinster aunt and I had to gather the fallen plums, rotten ones included, in buckets. We had to pick them up by hand, without the luxury of rubber gloves. We developed a real art in using our feet to avoid getting stung by the nettles.

Those buckets of plums we then dragged to the neighbor’s house where the distillery took place.

This Schnaps used to be our in-house pharmacy more than 40 years ago.