As a family we drove down to Leicester to see my relatives, I was about 9. As dinner was being cooked by my Auntie Sheila I smelt the smell, sprouts! I loathe brussel sprouts, just the smell makes me retch, I went into a panic , but my father told me to shut up and eat them ..............or else.
They were served on my plate, a mountain of them, no way was I eating them, I lobbed a few off into my lap and folded them in napkin, then pushed them down the back off the radiator behind me. Then I asked for another napkin........and did the same again, I got rid of them all like that.
I can remember my father saying something like "That wasn't too bad was it"?.
I can also remember a phone call few days later.