A bit like the mice from Bagpuss…

I passed a retro sweetie shop the other day. So I went inside. Well, you know it would be rude not to…

Firstly I was hit with the sickly-sweet smell of marshmallows, followed closely by the sound of a chocolate fountain. You were given a choose of different fruit on sticks to dab into the waterfall of loveliness that takes your breath away (wiping drool away now!). Bliss. The array of colours and wrappings that have long ago disapeared from our supermarket shelves. I spent at least ten minutes coming out with some gobble-Dee-gook such as ‘Oh wow, I remember that?’ and ‘I’m sure that came in orange flavour too’ etc etc the list goes on. That would have been fine but I was by myself. Nutter.

I had no idea how long I stayed in there for but the ‘ahem’s’ and ‘tutt’s’ from the owner made me grab some needless but ‘I’m sure they will get eaten’ goodies before I was escorted out the place for stalking the coco beans, never mind licking the glass along the way.

I walked home reliving my youth, my newly purchased goodies swinging lightly in the bright bag by my side.

I remembered everything we ate back then. The Creamola Foam we used to get as a special ‘treat’. There was nothing else like it. From ‘bagsying’ who would get to open the jar with the wrong end of the spoon, to who would take the first plunge into the crystals.  It was the anticipation of the rise of the bubbles and whether or not  they would break over the rim of your glass that got us all screaming at the top of our lungs…mine never did though, no matter how long I stirred it for.

Apparently you had to have ‘The Knack’ – which when you are 4ft tall and 8 years younger than said Knack specialist, I didn’t have. Jog on – as they say.

It’s funny when you think back to doing things like this, you always made an involuntary noise – such as an unwanted fart in a space suit. Completely unnecessary but you can’t help yourself. A bit like the mice from Bagpuss.

Then came pudding. Call it what you will, but we called it pudding and I still do. Dessert is for people who live in hot countries, my once 6 year old naive brain thought – being from the Northern Hemisphere I had no idea what a hot country was until much later in life.

The Creme De La Creme of puddings when I was growing up was Angel Delight. Not just any flavour, it had to be Butterscotch. With halved pears dunked on top with whipped cream – Mr Whippy style.

Being an adult (easy now – I didn’t say a responsible citizen) I haven’t given my wee boys the above mentioned e-ridden joy-ride that is all things edible in the 70’s/80’s, but I may in time. Maybe when they are older and wiser unlike their Mum.

So, back to the Haribo’s for me then 🙂

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