When bottled water first appeared for sale in pubs and restaurants some years ago, I was one of the many people who kicked themselves for not thinking of it first, writes Frank McNally.
The idea that the public would pay handsomely for a hitherto free and natural product, with nothing added except adjectives, was so daring and yet so simple. As was the idea that if you put bubbles in the water and called it "sparkling", consumers would - instead of laughing - embrace the term enthusiastically: thus helping you justify the mark-up.
But even as I kicked myself, I also vowed that I would not miss out on the next phase of the water action: the inevitable rise, sooner or later, of a market for vintage and specialised brands. I quickly raised a small loan from the bank, initiated certain processes, and then waited.
Sure enough, the luxury water market has been emerging slowly over the past few years. It began, as these things do, in the US and Japan. Then it spread. And it was with considerable excitement this week that I learned of its arrival at Claridges hotel in London.
Yes, Claridges now offers discerning drinkers a "water menu". This has options ranging from common-or-garden Evian and San Pellegrino, to something called "Maholo": drawn - I jest not - from 3,000 feet deep in the Pacific ocean, off Hawaii, and available to customers at a mere €28 per bottle.
Between these extremes, the menu also features waters from mountains in India, icebergs in Canada, volcanoes in New Zealand, and whatever you're having yourself. The choice is bewildering. But luckily, Claridges now has a water sommelier, who can advise you which product goes best with which food.
There is no Irish brand on the list yet, although with such abundant supplies of the stuff, this country clearly has the potential to be to high-end water what Bordeaux is to fine wine.
That's what I reckoned all those years ago, when I stopped kicking myself. And that's why I started sourcing rare and vintage waters, and storing them in wholesale quantities at a secret location near the Border. The project's final phase - the bottling plant - is not complete yet. But we should be ready to go when the market really takes off, next year.
In the meantime, here's a sneak preview from our international catalogue:
Inishmaan Summer Rain 1987: Irish rain is at its purest in the west, and the Atlantic depression from which this vintage derived was particularly excellent. The product was first filtered through ancient local vessels, known as "drain-pipes", and matured in galvanised buckets. The "nose" is delicate, but the water has a strong salty tang, with seaweed notes. Only €11 per bottle. De luxe gift sets, including presentation bucket, are also available.
Midleton Extra Rare 1992: An especially fine water, comprising May morning mist, hand-scraped from the backs of a herd of Friesian cows as they grazed at dawn in the rich, rolling farmland of East Cork. Matured in old milk churns for 15 years, it is fragrant in both bouquet and taste, with buttercup, daisy, and wild garlic flavours. €16.50 a bottle.
Cooley Mountain Dew 1995: A very special water sourced from an ancient spring near Dundalk; which, according to local custom, bestows great beauty on anyone who bathes in it naked at midnight. Its flavour is playful and zesty, with hints of the Corr Sisters. €28 a bottle.
Lullymore Grand Cru 1996: Drawn from perhaps the finest and most stagnant boghole in the midlands, this comes in still and extra-still varieties. Rich and peaty, there are stone-age buttery notes. But the discerning palate will also detect a metallic aftertaste, suggesting the priceless hoard of Celtic treasures it may once have stored. €18.50.
Chateau Cloneycavan 300BC: Full-bodied - in every sense - this extremely rare water was hand-wrung from the remains of Cloneycavan Man, when his impeccably preserved head and torso were discovered in a remote peat bog in Co Meath. Price on application. May contain hairs.
All reasonable people will welcome the Orange Order's initiative in updating its image via a new orange-and-purple-clad superhero, whose picture is to adorn the organisation's promotional material. The order is sometimes accused of being stuck in the 17th century. But the mascot - with his coiffed hair, big teeth and Superman cape - brings it right bang up to 1940.
In light of the organisation's public appeal for a name - the winning suggestion to be awarded an unspecified prize - this column has not been found wanting. Already our entries are winging their way to Belfast by registered post. And since I also took the precaution of mailing them to myself to protect copyright, I'm happy to share my ideas with readers.
Both involve existing product names and would therefore require legal clearance. But the beauty of this is that, if approved, it might also open the way for lucrative sponsorship.
At any rate, my first suggested name for the orange superman is "Britvic".
The suitability of the initial syllable will be obvious; while the cross-community appeal of the second (a shortened version of the Irish "a mhic", meaning "my boy") may be subtle enough to appeal even to the order's hard-liners.
Alternatively, I suggest "Mi-Wadi". This is also a popular type of orange, especially among young people, who are the mascot's target.
But crucially, it requires diluting, as do the order's policies.
I can recommend a suitable water, if anyone's interested.