I used to hate coffee in the past. Some lurking memory hidden deep within the deeps of consciousness affirmed something of that nature - the initial sip, staying neutral, the subsequent yucks, etc. But something happened along the way.. Journey with me along these series of blogs to explore my descend into caffine hell..
I had quite some memories of being the office boy when i was literally, the "boy" in my dad's company. Despite being oh, about knee-high to a grasshopper then, dad depended on me for his daily infuse of brown swill. And being the nice son that i was, I ran frequent errands to the coffee-shop (the singaporean variant, not to be mistaken for the Dutch versions) to grab some coffee for him. (the fact that I got to keep the change probably helped. I was young then, but already deeply entrenched in avarice.. )
The coffee-carriers of those days were rather interesting - shop-owners would often use tins from condensed-milk, punch a hole through the lid (to put the carrying string) and utilize the metal container to hold the coffee. Another alternative would be to dump the coffee into a little plastic drink-bag. Both are no longer common in singapore.
My first memories of drinking coffee would be from one of these expeditions - if memory serves me correctly, Dad offered me a sip to try, after which my reaction was one of amazement - why does anyone like this strange liquid??
It's a good thing that there is no legal age limit for coffee: dad would have been convicted without trial if there were laws forbidding "coffee to minors".
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