All photographs: Monisha RajeshAll photographs: Monisha Rajeshou never forget your first time. Mine was on a Friday night, on a bench in the middle of Dore village in Sheffield. Liz, who looked considerably older than 13, had conned the Co-op owner into dispensing an electric-blue bottle of cider, and three of us swigged from the neck in a manner that would now shock most epidemiologists. It’s the kind of story that makes artisan cider makers wince.
S’not gert proper zyder if t’aint from Zummerzet
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