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| That's a bit of a small cup. Pass the half-pint mug please. |
I guess it started when I was a kid, when the kind of coffee my mum made - comprising a saucepan of boiling milk poured into a mug over Nescafe granules - would leave me feeling a bit ill. It was quite a few years later before it really properly dawned on me that I was lactose intolerant. Doh!
And then there was that time in 91 when we'd just moved office and I was so close to the drinks vending machine that I didn't even have to leave my seat for a brew. I was getting through more plastic cups of machine coffee than you could shake a stick at. It was only a few weeks later that the doctor sent me to Bart's hospital for a bunch of tests that resulted in some periods of unconsciousness, large quantities of blood being taken, a handful of x-rays, and an inconclusive diagnosis that had something to do with my 'lifestyle'.
