(Good lord does this thing not have an indent feature?  Ah, yes, but only one which indents entire paragraphs, rather than just the first line, like a sensible text processor.  Lovely.)

With the exception of coffee-flavoured sweets, the last time I consumed coffee was mid-winter a few years ago, when my cousin Nate and I, for reasons that now elude me, went up the street from my house, to Starbucks.  He purchased for me some coffee-peppermint beverage, which was somewhat tolerable, though it did make me feel rather ill afterwards.

This was, all things considered, one of my best experiences with coffee, since it was diluted with milk and peppermint and the like.  Normally, my experience of coffee is one of horrible bitterness with no redeeming factors whatsoever.  I believe I managed to drink about half of the peppermint coffee, which, as I write this, I recall may have actually been a peppermint mocha.  On a somewhat related note, that Starbucks has since closed.

Coffee is not the only beverage I dislike, of course.  Earl Grey tea used to be among these, but in more recent years, I would go on to develop a taste for it, albeit with a good dosing of milk to go along with it.  Milk, for its own part, is a deeply strange sort of beverage, since it makes tea on the whole more pleasant, but is by itself quite horrid, unless one has been eating chocolate or Indian food.  When I was a child, for a time, I was not permitted to leave the dinner table until I'd finished the obligatory glass of milk I'd been given, which would often grow unpleasantly warm if not consumed fairly quickly.  This was a source of some friction.

Alcohol is functionally the inverse of tea in this scenario.  When I was young, and the family gathered for some event or other, I would often be permitted a small sip of red wine, which I recall greatly anticipating each time.  As I grew older, however, I would be permitted to sample larger and more varied sorts of alcohol, which I quickly found that I despised.  I recall one summer evening when I found a glass of what was apparently coka-cola, abandoned by my father.  Assuming he had forgotten about it, I elected to drink it myself, only to discover it was only two parts soda, and one part rum.

I do not like rum, and that mouthful was spat into the garden.

I have the vaguest recollection of a great appreciation for piña coladas, a word I have had to copy from a wikipedia article, because I'm not clear on how to make accented characters with my computer keyboard.  Several of these memories are (perhaps uncharacteristically?) hazy, but I believe I drank a great many whilst on holiday in either Cuba or the Dominican Republic.  When I was a fairly small child, I had a fixation on pineapple juice, similarly due to trying it on holiday (this time, certainly, it was in Mexico).

Cranberry juice contains truly obscene quantities of sugar, which is deeply saddening, because it is in fact my favourite sort of fruit juice, but I can't have it very often.

That will probably be all for tonight.