After doing 900 trade shows for avid gin-cat enthusiasts, we realised that most small-batch gin started to smell like a wellness retreat run by people who own too many crystals and but didn’t seem to be employed enough to pay for them. But that’s karma I guess. So we chose a different path. We decided to let juniper run wild and booked it on one of those tropical holidays - the kind that fundamentally changes a person in a way that is neither good or bad (or perhaps a bit of both). And sure, our gin came back with a sordid assortment of stories, scars and sun-scorched skin, but this is the liquid that fun built. A gin that thinks adventure is a way of life, not a weekend plan. It's not wellness. It's not even trying to be. It's a holiday romance in a tin that traded its return ticket for a 99 year lease of a rice field in….wait…where are we again? Anyway, the point is, Gin went on vacation, my friend. And it decided to stay.