Not to brag, but I’ve always considered myself a bit of an “amateur physician.” I say amateur, but I’m actually much better than that. Except for a degree and a licence and actual paid work at a hospital or wherever, I’m pretty much a professional level lifesaving doctor. I first knew I would be a really good doctor who would never need training when I was nine and I treated myself for the chickenpox by staying home and watching cartoons and drinking orange cordial for a week. And I haven’t had a single chicken pock since! Not one! A child prodigy! And I’ve never ever been sick again. Except for on Tuesday afternoons when Adam gives me a stress headache and I have to go home and watch Deal Or No Deal. And I always get really bad tummy aches every time it’s my turn to sweep the warehouse. But that’s all ever.

So you can imagine that when news started getting around the warehouse that there was a new tonic in town, I assumed – like I always do about everything – that people were talking about me. I would sit in staff meetings and pretend to blush while people were talking about how much they love Tonic and how good Tonic was looking and what kind of lid Tonic should have… “It’s me!” I would think, keeping my eyes lowered bashfully, “they’re obviously talking about me! They’ve heard about the chicken pox miracle and their adoration has manifested in this cool new nickname. Tonic. I should get hats printed…” 

Determined to live up to all my new hype, I’ve been doing a lot more diagnosing around the office. My keen surgical eye noticed Adam scratching at his wrist yesterday and close examination revealed that he was going to have to lose the arm. If only he’d come to old Tonic sooner what started as a mosquito bite might have been easily treated with cordial (probably raspberry) and a daily dose of Andrew O’Keefe. But Adam didn’t come to me and he was going to pay the princely price of one human arm. At first he seemed to be resisting my help as though he’s too good for free and perfect medical treatment?? And then he continued to seem to be resisting and he resisted all the way out of my practically legitimate medical practice. Have fun keeping both your arms Adam. I don’t think you’ll regret that decision at all when you’re awake for at least the next two nights scratching your wrist, Adam. It’s a serious shame too because the truck drivers were so excited to be nurses for the afternoon that they painted a red cross and put lights on top of one of the trucks which I’d told them probably wasn’t even legal. What should definitely be illegal is how good they all looked in the uniforms I got. One of them had the audacity to suggest that there are lots of boy nurses now and even the girl ones don’t wear dresses anymore, particularly ones that are so low cut. Um, excuse me, have you ever even been to Halloween? Pass the gauze.

Anyway, some lame story about me sneaking into the back of Adam’s car to surprise saw his arm off and several OH&S breeches later, it would seem that I am not the tonic everyone was talking about putting a lid on. Even though I’ve never heard of a “drink” being described as “tasty” apparently we have two “tasty” new “drinks” to introduce to everyone (I mean, it’s not just me right? If you heard someone say “the new Tonic labels look incredible” you’d assume they were talking about me too, yeah?) Still, it’s my “absolute” “pleasure” to introduce our new Soda and Tonic waters. Did they steal my nickname? Maybe. Did they out dress me? Some would say. But did they hide out in the back of Adam’s car for an entire Wednesday just so they could jump out wielding a pizza slicer ready to chop off a limb and give the man final relief from an itchy wrist? No, they didn’t. And when you’re enjoying one of our “tasty” new drinks, I urge you to remember that. Tonic out.

I used to think only beer could come from a keg. Full disclosure: that’s how I thought beer was made. You put some barley and hops and beer juice in a rubbish bin, shake it up and then shazam! Beer! I sometimes wondered whether whiskey had to play a small but crucial role in the process but other than that, I was fairly pleased at how clever I was for knowing a beer recipe without having to look up a single Donna Hay book. Opening up my own brewery was being considered, writing a book entitled, “Beer, Why All The Fuss? It’s Really Easy To Make; a prodigy’s story” was being considered, MasterChef was being considered… Obviously I’d be a shoe in - it was more a matter of when I could give up the time and whether my role should be as contestant or judge than whether they’d want me. Unfortunately, much like the time I confused a homeless man for James Boag on a trip to Tasmania (I thought he looked remarkably good for his age but he credited it to a strict Oil of Olay regimen), I was wrong. Very, very, wrong. About lots of things actually. Apparently beer is not made my way at all, something akin to bar slops and poison is though. It also seems that more than one thing can be stored in a keg, as long as the thing isn’t the office goldfish (if Adam asks, Scales and Fancy Pants Jnr. always take their naps floating on top of the water like that). And far from personally inviting me to join the top twelve, MasterChef were not willing to take me on as contestant, judge, guest chef or even as somebody who sneaks into the studio after filming and gets to eat all the food after it’s been judged.

Being wrong is the worst.

And now I’m hungry and how am I going to get free meals since I spent all my money on what the fake James Boag with the creamy complexion swore to me was beer juice but now that I think about it smelled more like, um, something else that’s yellow?

Luckily for everyone, there are people out there who know more than I do. And although it might be too late for Scales and Fancy Pants (wait, what? No Adam, they’re fine, seriously. Stop tickling them), it’s not too late for the rest of us. For one thing, in a truly epic historical first, the Department of Occupational Health and Safety banded together with pretty much every beer brewery in the country to thwart my attempts at going commercial. And even better, there are people who understand that kegs don’t have to be typecast as beer holders and goldfish killers. Some of those people work in this very company. And others work closely with this very company. Which means that mineral water stored in kegs is sweeping the nation! Like a stomach virus! But in a good way that won’t make you sick or anything. In fact, forget I said stomach virus. Because I definitely haven’t been trying to make sparkling wine in kegs using mineral water and the wine I find left in buckets after wine tastings. Nor have I caught a single sales rep using them as baths for his Cabbage Patch Dolls. And there’s no way you can prove that I climbed into one on Monday and let the truck drivers roll me down the hill outside the warehouse til I got sick which is the real reason I missed our staff meeting and not because I was busy watching Ghostbusters which is what I told everybody…

Unlike a stomach virus (why keep mentioning the virus? Seriously, stop). Unlike anything that’s remotely bad, you can find cafes, restaurants and bars all over Melbourne and Sydney who are playing the Maverick to our Goose in the eco-friendly mineral water version of Top Gun that’s real in my imagination. Mr Wolf, Albert Street Food and Wine, The London, Dandelion, Danks Street Depot, Red Spice Road, Little Creatures Dining Hall, Trotters, The Rose and Ladro in Prahran all have our mineral water stealthily concealed in eco-kegs, and are ready to whip out a glass or carafe and hit you with the fizzy stuff as soon as you give the super secret signal. Or just ask for the water I guess… But then you wouldn’t get to do the super secret signal twirl, take your mineral water, and give a solemn eyes-closed nod before cooly going about your business…

And cooly going about business is exactly what we’re known for. Ask anyone who’s ever met us or competed against us at anything. I mean really, why brag about a win when the awesome victory crump we’ve choreographed to the LMFAO classic Sexy And I know It says more than an “in your face!” ever could? But since you probably didn’t see this morning’s show-stopper, I don’t mind casually mentioning our victory over reverse osmosis systems aka water purifiers aka posers. Talk about a landslide - not only is our water as naturally pure as the voice of Seal himself, but water from our kegs produces zilch appreciable waste water as opposed to reverse osmosis systems that can waste more than four litres of water just to purify one. Oh yeah, how’d you like me now?! In your face Reverse Osmosis Systems! We don’t need you or your fake eco-friendship or your not even any minerals or your hard to understand and even harder to remember name (just imagine that as an impossibly awesome victory crump with heaps of attitude).

Anyway, it’s not just city slickers who get to strut their stuff playing Mineral Water Top Gun. As the first biz to have tapped a keg in central Victoria, re-PUBLIC in Castlemaine are doing it for country mice, responsible frat partiers and rural Tom Cruise wannabes alike. So if you’re thirsty for a good time down ol’ Cassymainy way, pop - nay strut - into re-PUBLIC, do the super secret signal twirl and a bottomless glass of mineral water dispensed straight from a tap in the wall will be yours! Now that’s a rootin’ tootin’ fine idea, eh pardner? Wait… that’s cowboy. I got confused because of the awesome star (sheriff’s badge) on the wall where the water comes out…

Anyway, questions about who’s actually seen Top Gun and who’s just pretending they have so that they sound cool and aren’t left out on Top Gun Tuesdays anymore really aren’t important. What’s important is that you remember that eco-keg mineral water definitely is not poison. And that this Tuesday, I get to be Maverick for a change. Also, at re-PUBLIC their super secret signal twirl ends with a step-ball-change and it’s heavy on the jazz hands. No judgement here.

I don’t trust change. Never have, never will.  I mean, why make something different when it’s already pretty good? Name me one thing that’s been made any better by change and I’ll name you something incredulous that you wouldn’t believe because it’s impossible and totally unimaginable and could never happen no matter what and would sure teach you a lesson (note to self: think of a list of those things just in case, you don’t want to look stupid later). So, yeah, change is the worst.

Lucky for me and change-haters everywhere, all old things become new again one day. So if you can just resist change long enough, you’ll be cool eventually and you can claim you were doing it first. It’s what the hipsters do - stay ahead of the trends by looking backwards and never forwards. Good advice when you’re riding your penny-farthing down Gertrude Street, good advice when you’re deciding what length jeans to wear. And hells yeah, staying true to my lycra power suits throughout the more breathable fabric favoring naughties was hard and at times pretty awkward work. And sure, a year ago you might have laughed at my stockpile of tasseled push-down socks and water-proof stirrup pants. And yes, since getting around town on my sweet “new” one-wheeler there have been more recorded penny-farthing related accidents in Melbourne since 1880. But yesterday I saw a group of hipsters riding backwards on horseback in Brunswick so who’s laughing now?

Still, you can imagine that when I was taken aside one day last week and told that DHMSCO would be releasing not one but two new drinks, I maybe freaked out a little bit. Threats were made, my pre-colonial urban bonnet was thrown, and more than one limited edition signed Baywatch poster was destroyed. That’s when I should have known I’d gone too far - you just don’t mess with the Hoff in Speedos. I’m genuinely sorry about that. But when not even a cordless phone maimed David Hasselhoff was enough to convince a clearly delirious staff that change is how Saved by the Bell: The New Class got made, I did what any mature, cool-headed adult would do: I threatened to destroy the entire mineral water industry and then called my mum to come get me.

After Mum calmed me down with a sippy cup of apple juice and a hard boiled egg with buttered soldiers, I agreed to take a look at these two “new drinks:” Organic Lemon Lime Bitters and Organic Orange Soda. Organic Lemon Lime Bitters and Organic Soda! Even despite the hyperventilating and tyrannical swearing, it was becoming clear that actually, they really weren’t as offensive as I’d assumed they’d be.  The labels are contemporary retro (yeah it’s a thing), the bottles could easily have been recycled from my last abandoned milk bar party, and the taste is frankly Hoff-in-jocks dribble inducing. Conclusion: what could be more hipster or more amazingly forwards-backwards than sitting on an upside down rubbish bin outside a roasting-warehouse-meets-nana’s-sitting-room styled café, ordering an Organic Orange Soda float? Nothing, that’s what. Unless you do it while you’re wearing a poncho as a skirt. Which would prompt me to doff my propeller cap to you. Or it would if I hadn’t already done it weeks ago. Sheesh.

DHMSCO’s new organic Orange Soda and Lemon Lime Bitters have landed. Make sure you get in before the hipsters do. Because once I’ve tied some string to one of the empty bottles and used it as a satchel, you won’t be able to get your hands on one anywhere.

Everybody knows that “Red Heads,” “Gingers” or, to use the politically correct term, “Rangas,” aren’t the same as regular humans. They tend to be more afraid of sunlight than Edward Cullen but without the attractiveness and superhuman strength to back it up, their skin seems unnaturally determined to turn the same colour as their hair at every mildly embarrassing moment, and I’m not sure but I’m guessing that they’re less good at all the cool things like hopscotch and Spiderman Monopoly and regular Monopoly and cartwheels and blogging. Which is probably why they’re a dying breed and will be extinct in 100 years, just like dinosaurs or Louie the Mortine fly.

Still, having once been confused for a Red Head – which is weird mostly because my hair is not red - I can identify with the underdogs of the gene pool. Life must be tough knowing that the odds are always against you. Which is why we’ve created a salute to our disadvantaged brothers and sisters with a brand spanken new Organic Ginger Beer.

Although much more attractive and awesome than its human namesakes, like them, Ginger Beer’s had to fight for survival. Sooo many obstacles that it’s had to outwit, outplay and outlast (it probably wasn’t fair that we sent it out into the jungle on rice rations and kept offering it a spoonful of peanut butter and a hot-dog in exchange for immunity and a chance to become the ultimate Survivor, but as Ron Weasley or Ginger Spice will tell you, life’s not always fair). Anyway, just like the tormented career of Lindsay Lohan, Ginger Beer built us up with the piggy-tailed innocence of Parent Trap and then tore us down with its inability to get out of a taxi without flashing its private parts and its you’re-not-fooling-anyone blonde highlights. One day I’d be promised Ginger Beer within the fortnight, the next it was a mere phantom of a thing, a ghostly whisper echoing in a licked-clean peanut butter jar abandoned in the Amazon.

It reminds me of the time my brother told me that if I pulled my tooth out and left it under my pillow I’d get five bucks from the Tooth Fairy because the market for adult teeth is much more lucrative than the fledgling baby teeth one. Well, the Tooth Fairy never came and now I’m tired because I was only pretending to be asleep last night so that I could see her and I’m also a little concerned because I googled it and it seems that adult teeth don’t grow back like baby teeth do and my brother’s not taking my calls and he said I wasn’t allowed to tell Mum or the whole operation would be a bust, which if you ask me, it is anyway and I think I’ll stick to my guaranteed cash cow  (rainbow-end hunting) from now on.

Luckily, unlike my cheque from the Tooth Fairy, our Organic Ginger Beer really did arrive this morning! And even though the newly exposed nerve endings in my gums tingle in the hurty way every time I take a sip, I can’t get enough!! So get on board the ginger train! And whenever you take a swig of the coolest soft drink going round, spare a thought for our disadvantaged fire-haired brethren, and then thank your lucky stars that you’re not one.

Ever had a great idea? I have.
Two words: Shoe Light (TM). A light that goes on your shoe so you can see where you’re stepping in the dark.
Here’s another: Socks With Scents (TM). Socks that smell like strawberries or pine or lemon meringue instead of like feet.

The good news for mankind and for ingenuity, is that I’m not the only one thinking up these little nuggets of brilliance. There are people out there coming up with other and maybe even better ideas! Better than Shoe Light (TM)??! Yes… Maybe. And they’re not all so unnecessarily caught up on feet…

Take the clever clogs over at Little Creatures for example: those crazy kids POUR THEIR WATER FROM A TAP!!!

Um, big deal - I’ve been doing that since I was fourteen-and-a-half years old, it’s almost as easy as brushing your teeth, in fact it’s one of the key steps involved.
Well THIS is sparkling mineral water. Try brushing your teeth with that! (you could, it would be tingly…)
It’s a little bit Wonka and it’s a little bit awesome!!
But WHERE does the water come from? At first magic - most probably powered by Oompa Loompas - was assumed. But that seemed silly.
Then a worm hole that connected the tap directly to our spring was suggested. This seemed plausible.
But then some kill-joy asked, “haven’t we been sending Little Creatures kegs full of mineral water for weeks now?”

At first this nonsensical idea was widely ignored and the physics defying worm hole was applauded with unquestioning abandon. But then it had to be asked, what had they been doing with all those kegs?A hard hitting investigation (okay, okay: we followed the copper piping to see where it leads) revealed that actually, eco kegs were the source of this ingenious new way of serving up mineral water.

And while we can neither confirm nor deny whether Oompa Loompas played any part in the construction, a garden tap that streams mineral water still seems pretty darn magical really!

An Australian first! Local Natural Mineral Water available in recyclable Eco Kegs.
These kegs are light weight and fully recyclable.

Daylesford and Hepburn Mineral Springs Co are very excited about their new products: Australian made soft drinks with true organic certification!

Organic cola with real cola nut flavour and a traditional style lemonade will bring back memories of yesteryear.

Next in line, batch fermented organic ginger beer.

The Fine Show Australia show was held in Melbourne, September 13th-16th 2010 at the MCEC.

For all that visited us, thank you.
We had overwhelming feedback about our products and our stand design and very much enjoyed building new relationships with business owners and customers.

We will be next exhibiting at the Sydney Restaurant 2010 show from October 25th- 26th at the Royal Hall of Industries. 
We are also the offical water sponsor for this event. More information about the Sydney show www.restaurantevents.com.au

These are our new fruit and sparkling mineral water flavours.

The flavours are:-

Lemon

Orange & Passionfruit

Pink Grapefruit

Blood Orange

Apple

they contain no cane sugar

no sodium benzoate (preservative 211)

no artificial colours or flavours

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