I had a massive craving yesterday. I realised that I'd not had any for over two weeks now - the void since Christmas had been filled with any amount of dried fruit, but dried fruit was no longer enough.
But what to do? Everywhere would be shut now. I tried not to think about it but the incessant pounding in my skull was saying "must....get....some....NOW!!!!".
Then, sweet baby Jeebus, I remembered that there WAS some - I rushed to where it was and gazed at it lovingly. Its glistening brown-ness, the texture, the SMELL - I inhaled deeply. It was as fabulous as I remembered. Then there was the taste - dear God - it was a heady rush to the senses and more, so much more than I could have imagined.
Dear reader - I was eating some plop.
Yes, that's right - plop, or rather 'Plopp', the actually really rather amusingly named Swedish caramel-filled chocolate bar that TLH had brought back the last time he'd been to Sweden. The chocolate craving got so bad last night that I ended up eating it - and now I wonder why it took me so long because I can quite categorically state:
That shit tastes GOOOOOOD!!
PS. As you can guess, there is endless comedy potential with this (that is if you have the sense of humour of a three-year old, but then they're some of the funniest people on the planet so perhaps it's not such a bad thing). TLH came back from Sweden yesterday and greeted me with, "I've brought back a suitcase of Plopp for you!". My, how we sniggered.
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