Number 36 - Beer Baby

As a toddler living in Perth in the very early 1980s, my Dad would fall asleep by the side of the pool leaving the warm dregs of his VB stubbies. In my pink and white terry towelling dressing gown I would cheekily wander around and drink these nasty dregs while my Dad dozed in the sun. It might be for this reason (or because I later developed a later love of champagne!) that in my adult years the smell and taste of beer makes my stomach turn. I had tried in Mexico to drink a Corona, my brother had tried to do his brotherly duty and force a beer down his sisters throat but to no avail. I'd only ever managed a few sips before it had gotten warm and nasty, and I could drink no more.