The flask.

 It was a set of two, one slightly larger than the other, in the window of the antiques next to the flyshop in Varese. 

Glass, lined with boar skin and with a silver screw top and bottom.

I left my friend the larger of the two because back then I wasn't drinking as I do now.

Mine has been living between a top pocket of my old fishing vest, on of the front pouches of my Barbour bag and the inner pocket of my short, Barbour wading jacket.

It held pretty much anything over 40 proof... Grappa, bourbon, rye, single malt and rum but I find it was at its best when it was holding a smokey, peaty and salty Scotch from the Isle Island (Bowmore, 18 years +).

My taste in Scotch and Bourbon deserve a whole story just for itself and I'll get to do it eventually, as well as my taste for day drinking whenever I am in the tropics and by the water.