I remember sipping from my father’s beer when I was very young. Extremely young, in fact – it may be one of my earliest memories. What kept it in my mind was its clandestine nature, as I was, initially, unnoticed in my thievery, and feeling rather good about managing to achieve something that was not allowed. And I remember needing two hands to hold the stubby, which puts me at around 3, I think.
-20 December 2016
This post is part of the I Remember series.