When I was a wee tyke, 4 or 5, my Dad had taken me fishing, basically around the pier or on the rocks surrounding the harbor. Never had gone back fishing until about a 5 years ago, when I was in England. My uncle's house was within walking distance of a forest and once you've walked a 1/2 mile through the forest trail, there's a huge plain sloping down to a lake an additional 1/2 mile down. Caught a few fish. Forgot what they were (supposedly trout) because I spent most of it downing some local English beer. I was really wasted and woke up with a huge hangover. From what I remember, I got drunk until I puked in the lake and my uncle thought it was a good time to go home. Never went fishing again since then.