Something monumental happened last Sunday in winter sunshine behind the sand dunes at Long Strand in West Cork. Myself and the wife had just finished a few ham rolls we’d put together on the boot of the car. I poured a cup of tea out of the flask, took one sup and said ‘this is the life’. There it was – I’d become my parents.

I’d been chipping away at my adolescence for the past 20 years and finally now at the age of 44, I’m an adult. How do I know? The flask. Middle-aged and older people in Ireland worship a flask.  Your timid maiden aunt would have no problem walking to the South Pole as long as she could bring a flask.

B&Bs didn’t thrive here because of the full-Irish or friendly welcome. They thrived because the lady of the house would give you hot water for your flask, so when you were sitting in the car looking out at the pissing rain a few hours later in some local beauty spot, you could at least have a nice cup of tea. There was only ever one type of cup of tea. Nice.

As far as my parents were concerned, the high point of a Sunday spin in Dad’s Cortina was to pull up anywhere with a half decent view and take out the flask. You’d half expect a choir of angels to sing ‘aaaaaah’ as it was taken out of the wicker picnic basket. Behold the sacred flask, which somehow keeps our tea hot. My mother and father would take a sup and agree “god, it’s grand and hot”, amazed that the flask had worked its magic yet again.  There would be the ritual dipping of cheap biscuits.  Then they would clear the fogged up windows, take a look at the latest storm that was lashing Ireland outside the car and agree that this is definitely ‘the life.’

Myself and my sisters would sit in the back drinking our lukewarm diluted orange, thinking these people are nuts. We’d tried the flask once or twice and it didn’t even taste like proper tea. Maybe it’s in the Constitution somewhere, but Irish Seaside flask tea can only be served in a cheap, chipped cup so all it mainly tastes of plastic.

We were too dumb and young to realise that our parents thought this was the life because we were together with the people we love in car for a few hours on a Sunday and nothing lasts forever.  So we mocked them for drinking tea in the car, saying ‘this is the life’ and most of all for taking photos of our sulky faces on these outings and calling them snaps. Jesus, we hated the word snaps.

Thirty years later I’m standing on a beach outside Clonakilty drinking a cup of flask tea. And taking snaps of the sunset. And this is the life.

First of all, I’m with the wife. That’s always good. On top of that, the wife loves tea, probably because a drop of it was added to her bottle when she was a baby. So she’s blissed out after a quick whiff of the stuff.

Secondly, it seems like the right thing to do in early 2011. The single biggest change in the noughties was in the Irish Sunday. The old Sunday was mass and roast dinner followed by a spin with a bit of Micheal O’Muircheartaigh. The new Sunday was whatever you’re having yourself, as long as it costs money. At some point between 2002 and 2007, every single person in Ireland set off for a Sunday spin in the country and somehow managed to return home the proud owner of a new leather sofa.

The last thing any of us did on a boomtime Sunday spin was bring any food with us. Your house will have doubled in value by the time you get home so why not pop into one of those new hotels that just sprung up for some reason and have an open salmon sandwich on brown bread served with 5 Hunky Dorys for €20? Spot someone taking out a flask at a beauty spot up to 2007 and your first thought would be the poor eejit must have forgotten to get into property.

Doing Sunday on the cheap these days is not only sensible, it’s simple. A quick stop in your local supermarket on the way out and you’ve lunch for a euro each. The Irish countryside is drop dead gorgeous and you own most of it anyway through NAMA, so you might as well enjoy the view. My parents were right – there is some kind of magic about making a cup of tea at home and drinking it at a beauty spot with someone you love. I just wish it didn’t make me feel so old.