In praise of flask

Cold, still and clear. Even the fish knew it was pointless - but they don't have my flask.

Over the last three months I’ve purchased a total of three flasks.

The first was a stylish stainless steel number. Small, sleek and perfect for slotting in the side of the fishing bag I thought I’d done good. That was until I discovered I’d have been better storing my tea in a plastic bag – within the hour my hot drink was barely capable of melting an ice cube.

Second attempt the MO was substance over style. A large blue Thermos model was purchased. Ugly but rugged and up for the task. Except it wasn’t.

Filling this bad boy was a treat - a large opening with a capacious interior, every man’s flask dream. But that was where the nightmare began. The inaugural pouring and the sound of broken glass revealed a weakness at the top of the glass section of the flask. Disastrous, and less than 24hours after purchase. Mr Thermos, hang your vacuum insulated head in shame.

That was when I went for broke out the cheque book.

For my thirty third birthday a week or so ago I received the usual batch of bank notes from family members who didn’t have a clue what to get me. Where as at one time this would have been hastily blown on Xbox games and a new pair of the latest trainers, now at 33 I’m researching the perfect vessel for my hot beverages – I’m sure international playboys and rock stars do much the same thing.

And this is it. 1.2litres of thermal perfection. Double-walled, vacuum insulated with a hammered stainless finish and as rugged as Grizzly Adams in a stab-proof vest. First trip out, tea made at 7am, I was happily burning my tongue on the fifth cup of the day well into dark. All praise the flask.

Next week, shopping for a new anorak.