My grandad used to drink a bottle of beer in the evening. I see the scene now, in my mind's eye: my grandad in his chair to the right of the fireplace, the bottle and the glass on the strange marquetry table to his right. As a little girl, the dark liquid fascinated and scared me a bit. I asked my grandad what it was made of and he told me, "Stewed spiders." - Believing him, I have never drunk beer.