I think it is fitting to continue this colourful and delicious enthusiasm because beer is made of magic if one knows how to appreciate it with sophistication and style. No, I certainly not condone Gustave down the pub guzzling VB whilst his mates were shouting “Skull! Skull! Skull!” on ‘ten-dollar-a jug’ evening or his partner Genevieve who was lifted upside down by her ankles whilst sucking a petrol-ised concoction of Emu Bitter through a tube. I mean, by all means, be a Viking when one is in Valhalla but for goodness sake, let me gentlemanly enjoy my beer whilst I walk the Earth.
I think being a Father is one of the noblest duties Mother Nature had entrusted us Men with.
My Dad had once told me to grow balls. It was on a glorious Sunday morning and our neighbours’ roosters were bursting with life. The rest of the house was still deeply asleep as it was just the break of dawn. I could taste freshly baked bread and steaming butter as their lingering traces filled the air inside my chest. My Mum had just lovingly prepared breakfast. I was 8yrs old, short and skinny, with an empty stomach yet fuelled with courage - it was my first day attending Taekwondo. I was just a boy with innocence swimming around me but I was determined to learn the skills to protect the people that I truly treasure on this planet and to perhaps one day gallantly stand up for the ones I am going to love and share my life with.
