My earliest recollection of tasting beer was in the kid’s outside area of a pub, somewhere on the outskirts of Portsmouth, when I asked my dad if I could taste his beer. I took a swig and my face screwed up immediately as the bitter brown liquid hit my taste buds. “Don’t worry”, said my dad. “You’ll get used to it!” …and get used to it I did! That story is the first memory I have about my beer-drinking career but there have been many memory-making milestones along the way. Some of them are quite hazy now – the memories that is, not the beer (although many of them have been), but I’ll try to retrieve them for this article. The first ‘proper pint’ I ever had – that is bought for myself with my (pocket) money – was at …
