From Drinker to Brewer
England has given the world some terrible things, ranging from the Spice Girls (which itself bred another bad thing - celebrity uber-couple The Beckhams) to Australians.
But a few good things have come from there.
The good things I immediately think of are cricket, my nana and beer - specifically, real ale.
The Brits, if their High Commissioner is an example to go by, are fans of their beer, and are credited with creating real ale.
While most beer comes filtered and carbonated by adding carbon dioxide to it, real ale is often unfiltered and left with some yeast in the cask.
Mainly for the better, we have age restrictions on a lot of things.
Getting married, buying alcohol and cigarettes, having sex, buying sex, gambling, driving - it all comes with an age restriction.
But it works both ways; sometimes we are told we are too old for things.
Go to a restaurant and the kids' menu will often have ''only for people under 12''.
Go to the dentist and the kids get a lollipop and small toy, while you walk away with a hole the size of a crater lake in your wallet.
Terrible things can become the most perfect things, as long as context is present.
Think Oasis, but at a karaoke bar full of drunk expat Brits who were present at Knebworth House in 1996.
MC Hammer pants, but at a bad taste party.
Or tofu, but cooked with all manner of deliciousness by a street vendor at a night market in Malaysia.
All those things are terrible on their own, but are made great by context.
It is, once again, that time of year.
The time of the year when everyone who writes about something starts putting together their ''best of'' lists.
It is no different for beer writers, who have a very hard job this year.
New Zealand's beer scene has had a stunner 2013.
New breweries are popping up everywhere - especially in Wellington - while the overall standard of beer has risen.
When I was young and living in the thriving metropolis of Foxton, I always looked forward to Thursdays.
Thursdays, apart from being one day away from the weekend - weekends always involved two games of football and the comforting nostril burn only Deep Heat can provide - was when I would get my pocket money.
My mother, having worked in a bank since before I was born, taught me some good financial tips.
One of them was making sure I put money in my savings before spending any of it.
After doing my banking for the week at the town's only bank - which could be leaving soon - I always popped into the dairy next door for a few treats.
Blog terms and conditions
You're welcome to post in the comments section of our blogs. Please keep comments under 400 words. When submitting a comment, you agree to be bound by our terms and conditions.