If you like a lot of chocolate on your biscuit ....?

Drama Queens 1 and 2 have just finished a week of exams – calmness has not been the operative word in the household, to the extent that I was standing behind a woman in the chemist yesterday who appeared to be discussing the symptoms of worms in children - irritability was tipped as a key factor and I had to restrain myself from jumping the queue and ordering a lifetime supply for the teenage members of the family.

One of the things about living outside the country you grew up in is that at times you are overcome with cravings for the foods of your childhood. The passing of time and the fact you can’t get your hands on them easily imbue them with recollections of fabulous taste and texture. During the four years that we lived in America I invested a fair proportion of time sucking up to the owner of the local Irish shop in the hope of securing first rights on the regular shipments of Irish sausages and chocolate – the American versions of both varieties of food illustrating the taste expectation gulf between the US and UK. It was a Red Letter Day when there were Chocolate Buttons in stock, let alone the glorious week when I managed to purchase a case of Hula Hoops – I felt like throwing a 60’s themed party and inviting all my British friends round, just for the pleasure of passing round little nibbles dishes filled with the things.

Australia scores pretty highly on the fabulous food front and I have become a convert to the great Australian icon – the Tim Tam biscuit, so I wouldn’t want to conjure up a picture of a snack desert here, but at times I do yearn for the top treats of my childhood – interesting note here the types of food one craves tend unsurprisingly to be more of the Jaffa Cake than the Jaffa Orange variety.

Our guests over Easter were treated to a mass drooling session focussed on our favourite UK biscuits during their visit – and once they arrived back in the UK they very kindly sent us a giant package filled with Penguin and Club biscuits. I took the precaution of hiding a Club Biscuit for myself before the gannet like children arrived home from school, fondly imaging myself lying in bath with good book and chocolate biscuit – sad type of fantasy I know, but that’s what happens when you turn 45. For those of you unfamiliar with the Club biscuit, I need only launch into the advertising jingle that was popular when I was a child of “if you like a lot of chocolate on your biscuit, join our Club”. Based on that criteria, this is the type of club that I would be signing up for life membership, regardless of cost. You can guess the sad end to the story – when I went back to the pantry cupboard to rootle at the back of the tins of butter beans where I had cunningly hidden the biscuit some child led by an inherited homing instinct so far as chocolate goes, had snaffled it. Irritable doesn’t even come close to describing my mood –pass the worming tablets quick – preferably the chocolate flavoured ones.