Sweets for my Sweet
Work is so depressing that I need something to get me from 8:30 to lunch time to Neighbours. I keep a tube of Smarties next to my PC and make them last all day. Having to keep myself entertained, I make myself chuckle with the thought that they must be a philosopher’s favourite confectionery. After all, only Smarties have the answer.
She comes over for the week’s important televisual events. Sometimes she brings an apple pie with her. I warm the pie up and add readymade custard while she puts the kettle on. We dish Matt some up too and then we all settle down for the evening. The running commentary starts as soon as the food disappears.
Some weekday evenings, if she and I aren’t doing anything, Matt and I pop round the corner to visit our favourite newly-weds. The 4 of us watch films and play Carcassonne. This is always accompanied by onion rings, Haribo and sniggering. Sometimes we try to be a bit more grown-up and have dinner together but the pretence falls apart when dessert comes out.
To top the week off, I treat myself to something nice on Friday mornings. It’s usually either a pain au raisin or a cheese straw, depending on what they’ve got or what I fancy. I pick it up on the way to work and have it for breakfast at my desk with a milky, sugary coffee. The weekend starts right there.
On Saturdays, I get up as early as the drinks the night before allow. I stick my headphones on, grab a book and head for the coffee shop. I have fruit toast and watch the world go by as I think my thoughts.
On Sundays, Matt makes himself scarce and she and I spend the day on the sofa in front of the telly. She does the crossword while I think too hard about Murder, She Wrote. We have tea and biscuits.
Every now and then I go home to see my folks at the weekend. This can mean anything from butterscotch twists with a cup of tea to coffee cake at May Cottage. My favourite part of any visit is the haggling that takes place over the Sunday roast. I’m 28 and my Granddad stills insists I’m too young for treacle tart.
I don’t have this trouble with her. She prefers savoury. The only sweet thing she goes nuts for are green Fruit Pastilles. They’re her Kryptonite. I’m not that fussed about them myself but I’ll buy a packet whenever I go passed a shop. I save the green ones up until there’s enough for a gift-bag. Her smile is even more devastating than usual when she finds them. This is my biggest indulgence.
Rivka Jacobs
A tour of the narrator’s life in edible goodies! This was fun to read, and it’s making me hungry. I love some of the lines, like, “…while I think too hard about Murder, She Wrote.”
Well paced, and well written. It held my interest completely. But especially, while it seems to portray human quirkiness, it is really so true for all of us! This is our lives, moving form one form of eating to another, food forming the punctuation of our existence.
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Oke Dafe
Thanks, Rivka! It didn’t quite go the way I wanted it to so I’m glad it still works.
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