My nan used to drink Guinness. She was a tiny, white-haired sparrow of a woman, and I like to think that the occasional glass of Guinness represented her strong, independent streak. She wasn’t a big drinker. In fact, a 440ml can could last her a week or more (and was often thrown out by my mother!)I remember this vividly, because my brothers and I would vie for nan’s affections to try and win the floating widget that bobbed about inside the can.