Post Christmas – How Ya Feeling??

So how y’all doing?

The festive season is struggling to maintain purchase as the madness sinks in and people reaslise they have to stop being merry soon and return to their general humdrum lives. After the psychotic ravaging of stores that miraculously have re-filled their shelves with wares for the Boxing Day/that-odd-nameless-time-between-Christmas-and-New-Year sales, we are left bereft, despite our many fresh items.

We have less booze, less money, less yummy food, less presents, less visitors, less days off, less lie ins… Generally just less of all those rare goodies we allow ourselves to indulge in excessively at this time of year.

On the other hand we get more of a lot of things.

We get more work, more time out of the warm house and in the cold outdoors, more time spent travelling, more bitchy co-workers, more worries over money, more micro-meals, more stress coffee, more… General crap. And crap that is only crap because you experience it every day, not because it is particularly bad, just that we tolerate it so often that we come to not really care all that much about it. Like work. Most people can’t be bothered half the time. Uni/college. Too tiring when there are warm beds and XBOX in existence. Travelling. Instead of being a peaceful time of reflection it becomes a place of rampant road rage and body odour, if you are not fortunate enough to be part of a carpool. Reality bites back, soon.

We are alright til January. It is acceptable to pull the “aw, Ok, since it’s Christmas” excuse for being just that little bit decadent but only because we have that all important big part-ay coming up known as New Year (sure to be a messy one if you live in Scotland).

Now, while this started off on a bit of a bum note, I like to be a little unpredictable when I write these posts, so here’s me pulling the old switcheroo on you.

I don’t care that we are metaphorically going from a time of excess to a time of… normal? (because I live in the commercialised Western society so we are always living in a time of plenty and there are too many people who already live in excess) I don’t care that I am going to have less money, less free time and more stress. I don’t even mind the thought of my three hour round trips to Uni every day starting again – the bus may smell bad but I always like the journey and I like Uni. I can’t do anything on the journey so it’s a great place for a little downtime.

Sometimes the world of boundless bounty (not the chocolates… though I suppose sometimes the chocolates. At this time of year, certainly. Those little tiny ones. Who actually eats Bounty’s except at Christmas anyway? Who eats chocolates that size at any other time of year? Alas, tis a pondering for another day) is a little too much. Too much of a good thing, and all that. Then again…

I have just had a few of the best days of my life.

Those of you who have followed these interweb pages for a while will know that I used to  detest Christmas. Loath it. Hated it with a passion that would make hell piss itself with shame at its own feeble flame as it pales in comparison to the passion in my rage. But all that has changed this year. It was AWESOME!!

I know that is hardly the most eloquent of ways to phrase it but it is the truth and I am still young enough to get away with such pithy sayings.adored every second!

Last year I did not really have a Christmas. It was one of the worst days of my life and I will never forget it. However, I cannot regret, now, that it happened. Because, had I not, I may not have fully appreciated the marvelous affair that has been the Clark family Christmas, 2013. These shall forever be hallowed days to me.

And these feelings of peculiar warmth have nothing to do with the fact that I have spent a great deal of time in the last wee while drinking excessive, yet not altogether socially unacceptable volumes, of fermented, brewed and distilled liquid, all with the intent of slowly pickling my liver as well as warming the cockles of my heart. Oh no, it is all to do with my family. And the fact that we were all at home. Together. Having Christmas. For the first time ever. And I meant, ever.

I have never had a Christmas at home, just with my parents, and that is something I have always craved. As has my mum, which, means that since we were spending it at home, she has been in an infinitely better mood of late. Actually we all have. There has been an unfamiliar buzz of general merriment colouring my life in the run up to Christmas. I have been a busy little fritter and filled my time by whole-heartedly flinging myself into the spirit of the event. I’ve never really partaken so I wasn’t really sure what to do. But the fact that I was bouncing around like a workshop elf on crack seemed to help everything run smoothly. Go with the snow-flow,  I thought, see where you end up. Following my celebratory savvy, I reckon.

My life this December has been a blur of bows and bells, elves and electric lightstinsel, tassels and tell-tales signs the Great British weather is taking a turn for the terrible.

I won’t go into details, but will instead allow you to fill in the blanks of your own accord. I don’t mind how you envisage the three of us, but here is a guideline.

Image three people sitting down to a fantastic spread that we are all not quite sure how we managed to produce. Imagine us elated and confused at the fortune of our own situation. Listen to the sound of clinking glasses, popping crackers and belly laughing. Feel the warmth of the oven and the heating blowing a rosy glow onto your skin. Smell everything from booze to parsnips and turkey and perfume. Feel full, spiritually and physically and emotionally. Cover everything in soft lights and glitter. Now imagine a slight haze over the whole image as we have all had a little bit to drink

Merry Christmas.

Boyf opening prezzies on Christmas Eve

Boyf opening prezzies on Christmas Eve

Homemade table decoration

Homemade table decoration

homemade table decoration

homemade table decoration

homemade table decoration

homemade table decoration

me and Percy

me and Percy

Gizmo is drunk after his Christmas dinner and some wine... food baby??

Gizmo is drunk after his Christmas dinner and some wine… food baby??

pretty candles

pretty candles

Percy

Percy

SSDD

My Vintage Weekend

Lat Saturday I went on a mini-break with my parents – and by that I mean we literally traveled to the city nearest us – a place so close we call it “town” – and stayed for the night. We did make a good night of it though, like a snapshot of a longer holiday since we haven’t been able to get away abroad this year.

Me: salmon vintage style dress/black lace detail: Miss Selfridge. denim shirt: Primark. shoes: Dorothy Perkins

Me: salmon vintage style dress/black lace detail: Miss Selfridge. denim shirt: Primark. shoes: Dorothy Perkins

Mum and I

Mum and I

Me: salmon vintage style dress/black lace detail: Miss Selfridge. denim shirt: Primark. shoes: Dorothy Perkins

Me: salmon vintage style dress/black lace detail: Miss Selfridge. denim shirt: Primark. shoes: Dorothy Perkins

 

Mum and I

Mum and I

Me: salmon vintage style dress/black lace detail: Miss Selfridge. denim shirt: Primark. shoes: Dorothy Perkins

Me: salmon vintage style dress/black lace detail: Miss Selfridge. denim shirt: Primark. shoes: Dorothy Perkins

 

So to Glasgow!!

Anyway we visited a fantastic Vintage and Handcrafts Market, called the “Little Birds Market”.

The sun shone on the alley it was cuddled into. Held in Sloans bar on Buchanan Street, this monthly event gives creative type awesome people a chance to display their wears. It is a sugary sweet combo of stalls of hand crafted jewelry, cushions ( we found some adorable owl ones), and sweets, time warped in with stalls for beautiful vintage items.

Little Birds Market

Little Birds Market

There was a very traditional set-up outside the bar of  barber striped coverings for stalls selling mainly smaller items, such as hand made candles, jewelry, scarves and the like. One very delicious smelling stall displaying the most mouth watering display of home-made fudge, boasting enticing titles like “mocha cappuccino“, “mint and strawberry“, “banana, chocolate and vanilla“, and may more, whose names I honestly cannot remember… But basically, think of a combo that shouldn’t work but in an ideal world would be glorious, then imagine it working… Your reached utopia yet? 😉

Moving further in, the actual bar is adapted from an old ballroom, the bar occupying the lower floor only. The upper two floors were something almost other-worldly compared to the “old man pub” on the lower level.

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As soon as we stepped onto the curving staircase, with it’s worn carpet and polished wood banister, stained glass arch windows and dust motes floating in what pale light could filter through the slightly grimey window, we were transported. The musty smell made us imagine laced corsets, peticoats, sweeping trains and afternoon tea. We should be sporting powdered wigs and delicate white lace gloves, not t-shirts and jeans. It was a place from another time.

When we reached the first floor and saw that they were in fact serving afternoon tea, my hear soared. The vaulted ceilings and flaking forest green paint lent themselves to the entirely Vintage aura of the place.

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A thriving upper 2 floors were decked out with a myriad of items which had been both salvaged and hand-made, ranging from clothing to accessories, wall hangings and home wear.

I myself made a couple of little purchases from “You’re So Cool

Scarf and Lotus bracelet

Scarf and Lotus bracelet

A gorgeous chemise purple scarf of unknown origin and a 1930s Buddhist Lotus bracelet.

I particularly love the bracelet. Bought from a stall selling only genuine vintage items, I found this little charmer. The meaning is something special to me. When is saw it laying there, glittering on a lace covering, I was sold. Or rather, two minutes later, it was sold to me.

The Buddhist Lotus symbolises growth and enlightenment.

The roots of a lotus are in the mud. The stem grows up through the water, with the heavily scented flower laying pristinely above, basking in the sunlight. This pattern of growth signifies the progress of the soul. We all begin in the primeval mud of materialism, traverse through the turbulent waters of experience, and slowly expand into the bright sunshine of enlightenment.

It’s true what they say about the sun making everything better. And here, the peace and light is the reward for having survived the currents of our personal ponds. Every droplet is a moment in time, an experience gained. The large, elegant flower is proof that we might come to fruition from such difficulty more beautiful and majestic that we began.

Buddhist Lotus

Buddhist Lotus

I love it! 🙂

Glasgow is an ever-diverse, ever-up-cycling place with a rich architectural and fashionistic background. We’re a quirky bunch but we value tradition and like the simple things. Such as, scones and fresh jam and cream, with an optional pint if Tennants, homemade fudge following a juicy steak and ale pie and little blasts from your disco past.

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So if you’re in to mood for a perfect combination of old school classic, new school nerd and simple old mans pub comfort, head to the Little Birds Market on:

August 11th

September 8th

October 13th

November 10th

December 8th

Here are links to the stalls I collected cards from as well as some personal recommendations.

You’re So Cool Vintage – love this place!! The girl who owns it is very Dianna Vicars, boho chic and absolutely lovely

Strawberry Lush Vintage

Romster

Jodie Pope Jewellery Design

Lazylinepainterbelle  makes her own logo in nail art – so so so cool!!

Maze of Lace – Unique handcrafted jewelry by Evi. Everything is crocheted and absolutely beautiful

Circa 72 Jewellery – by Kary Purvis

Whimsical Heart uses salvaged, ancient dictionaries and prints their own designs over the top – so creative, so unique, never seen this before. Can be purchased framed or single sheet.

Complex Omlette – patisserie genius. Macaroons in every pastel shade, tarts and scones in designs to make your mouth water. I recommend the custard one. See for yourself…

"Complex Omlette" Patisserie

“Complex Omlette” Patisserie

Maze of Lace - Master of crochet... everything!!

Maze of Lace – Master of crochet… everything!!

"You're So Cool Vintage"

“You’re So Cool Vintage”

Circa 72

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Circa 72 Jewellery

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SSDD

Make me my Cake: PRINCESS DESSERT TABLE

Just a little feat of dessert engineering…

While surfing the net, I stumbled across this mammoth feat of Princess engineering. The page is in Spanish but has an English translation. I thought this persons efforts deserved a little admiration.

So go, fawn over their hard work and attention to detail and lament the fact that none of us are, in fact, Disney Princesses **sniff sniff** **takes off tiara** **puts back on hoody**

Make me my Cake: PRINCESS DESSERT TABLE.

 

A Tempting Tradition Twist on Pumpkin Perfection

The oversees caffeine giant strikes again with an American twist on a festive tradition.

Ahhh STARBUCKS™, you are sometimes so wonderful…

For weeks now my blog reader has been full of Americans bombarding me with pumpkins. Treats of all kinds have been appearing because of Thanksgiving and Halloween (links at the bottom to some of them!) but mainy they’ve been boasting about the latest PUMPKIN flavoured creation to be adapted to coffee or iced treat and, I can officially announce… that splendour has officially been shared with the UK as of 29th!! Yaaaaay!!

But that’s not all!

So curious was I and impatient to experience this bizarre wonder for myself, I took it as a personal challenge to acquire it the day the offer appeared in my Facebook feed – Friday 28th. On this mission I recruited one enthusiastic compatriot, one reluctant companion and two students with nothing better to do. One of whom was lost on the way there. A fleet of four it was to be.

And I succeeded! 😀 Though the offer was technically not due to start til Saturday 29th September, I took the initiative and… just asked nicely, actually. ^.^ The guy behind the counter looked impressed I even knew about it so…

I give you, one of the UK’s first ever STARBUCKS™ served PUMPKIN SPICED LATTE‘s!

they spelt my name wrong on the personalised cup… 😦

Should be ‘Gemma’ not ‘Jemma’ but I’ll let it slide… this time… 😛

This thing was so exclusive in the UK when I asked for it that their website hasn’t even updated to include it on their menu yet! (link at the top of the page!)

The offer is exclusive to lattes, which is a bit disappointing as I know the pumpkin flavour  is available across the full range of coffees in America. The only variation seems to be if you want whipped cream or not, as well as only being available for a month. That would be because it’s a Halloween promotion and all that…

Onto the taste test.

I’m not an expert on pumpkins, to the point where I actually have no idea what they taste like . 😀 But I can tell you this. It. Is. TASTY. It’s so good! So good, in fact, that far from tolerating the addition of milk in my coffee to experience this phenomenon, I actually enjoyed it. So good, I almost bought another one! Usually I hate milky coffee as it gives me headaches. Specialty lattes are often bearable because there is another flavour to dominate, but damn this was so good!

The flavouring was a little bit spicy, not like chili, more like ginger or cinnamon, and when added to the light, whipped cream it gave the coffee a sweetness I really never thought it would. I expected something heavier and something either very bitter, more akin to a headily scented, dense tasting coffee you might be served from a questionable looking, festive vendor, in a styrofoam cup, or something very mild and savoury; like a non-citrus cheesecake in coffee form with an almost tea-like consistency… if that’s even possible 😀 That thought might have been the product of having seen pumpkin flavoured goodies in the plastic, clear cups chilled drinks are served in. Never did I expect just how sweet it would be! The foam was light, the texture smooth, the aroma light and wafting. Delicious.

I would say that, taste wise, this is something of a girly drink, but I would highly recommend this particular speciality drink to everyone. Even if it doesn’t get you in a Halloween mood (something this sweet and scrumptious could never incite fear into anyone bar the lactose intolerant… nor can it celebrate the dead…) it will certainly give you a festive buzz. I personally hate Christmas, (see here!) but that’s what it tastes like!

I recently purchased a candied ginger body butter from The Body Shop and it was a good thing I hadn’t been wearing it when I drained that mug – I’d have morphed into a little Christmas elf, perhaps sporting a jaunty witches hat, right there on the spot! 😀

some pumpkin treats for you all!! STARBUCKS America full pumpkin range!! nutella swirled pumpkin pie, mini cinnamon sugar pumpkin muffins (no i’m not joking, that’s what they’re called) fudge brownie cupcakes with pumpkin cream cheese frosting (phew, what a title!) skinny pumpkin cheesecake brownie  SIMPLE pumpkin cake  a PSL,  a modified PSL  a “top 10 list”

credits have to go to: Sally’s Baking Addiction, (who I have a mild bakers crush on!! :D) Caffeinated and Random, (whose loving rants about her other half make me LOL), Sweet Little Thang

Follow me on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/gemc200 , I hang out there occasionally 🙂

SSDD

Buying Wine Is Surprisingly Difficult…

Don’t laugh at me for being an uncouth youth but… wine is a baffling concept to me!

So I’m going to share a kinda funny story with you about a recent outing I made, inspired by a post by Caffeinated and Random. Read hers, it sounds far more successful than mine to be honest. But do stick around to find out if I eventually got my grape juice! 😉

I seriously struggled to buy a bottle of wine the other day. You might think that it would be easy in a supermarket – they have aisles dedicated to the stuff! And not just wine; to make the selection of all you alcoholic beverages an easier experience they have handily sub-categorised everything.

I can only think this is out of pity more than kindness; it’s a though they think drunks can only navigate their way to the bottom of a bottle, not to the actual bottle itself. But on the other hand, why pass up the opportunity to fleece said boozy individuals by arranging the wares in an aesthetically pleasing order? And let’s be honest, you can tell a lot from the section a person is shopping in.

The Magners my friend bought as an “investment”…

For example, a middle-aged man bulk buying Tennant’s is either having the lads over to watch the footie or praying 2-crates-for-£12 contains enough units to let you mentally escape your domineering wifey! (to be sure which breed you are observing, have a sneaky look-see – if the whiskers are graying you are likely looking at the latter.)

If you are one of those more exotic souls trooping the spirits aisle you are either a student looking for pre-drinks/cocktail ingredients/a cheeky wee something to get you through your Friday lecture – or a bit lonely… and maybe have been for a while if a bottle of rose isn’t enough to perk you up anymore…

There you go! Wine, again! Like an adult alternative to the eternally relished correctional institution known as tea! We turn to it for everything: friends are coming round – better crack open a bottle if wine; hot date on the horizon – put a nice wee bottle of wine in the fridge; you’re boyfriend broke up with you? – bring on the wine-loaded bitch-fest!; you’re mother-in-law is coming round – quick, chug the rest of that bottle from last night while pretending to check the casserole…

So many socially acceptable situations, so many socially encouraged situations.

So why the bloody hell do they make it so hard to choose one!!?

Leaving early and returning late(ish), disgruntled and tired began to wear on my parents a little after an entire summer – and no, not because I’m a teenager and they had enough of my inconsiderate comings and goings… well… ok so it was a little bit that, but mainly because I was working! I had begun to adopt a syndrome I do not know the official term of, but for the purposes of this story we might call teenwhingeitis. The remedy for this, I thought; that’s right, gift thy ear-ached parents with fermented grape juice!

Whoa, too much choice, guys, seriously, chill out, they’re just grapes for goodnessake…

But faced with a wall of disconcertingly similar bottles, I suddenly felt less like the classy so-and-so bringing home a sophisticated tipple and more of some 12-year-old Curious George like character who had wandered too far from her mummy and was suddenly drowning in uncertainty.

It’s ridiculous. I’m 19, I am more than used to buying booze by this late stage in my life. But that might have been the problem. I am used to buying booze. Wine seems an altogether classier state of affairs. Somehow the glimmer of I’m-too-good-for-you-tonight-WKD wears off a bit when you’re looking at the “Special Offer” plonk.

All I had to go on was mum likes white, dad likes red, neither likes rose and I am only going to buy one bottle. Great.

I get that different grapes are grown in different countries and that it makes sense for them to have different flavours. But. As I read another tan label claiming to contain a nectar that was simultaneously sweet, fruity, lemony, with a hint of  bold asparagus and gentle daisy, undertones or basil and overtones of Sicilian desert, I couldn’t help feeling like all those convoluted terms were designed purely to confuse the living daylights out of me. It made me a little irritated. Those buggers were doing this on purpose, I thought. Didn’t they realise I was trying to do something nice, I thought. They must think me some kind of teenage delinquent who wouldn’t understand all their fancy pants description, devoid of buzz words and pressed more full of jargon than the tinted bottles they were wrapped around, I thought! (they were right, but I wasn’t about to admit that…) Must be Torries, I thought.

But never fear, the story has a happy ending. I knew what to do – defy the buggers! So I looked at the prices, picked a shelf that all seemed reasonable and pointed, swirling my finger – if it worked in Stephen Kings Dreamcatcher, then it was good enough for me! The only rule of this game was, stop when you recognise anything it says on any label. Along the line my finger went and then stopped almost immediately – Jacobs Creek. Possibly the most universally known wine in the world.

Gotcha! Cheers!

The fruits of my labour!

SSDD

I Brought My Own Coffee, Thanks

There is a major problem with office workers.

How the hell they expect someone to survive in an office environment with crap instant coffee is utterly beyond me.

This was the predicament I found myself in recently, when I had two days work experience at my local paper. Now this post is in no way to be considered poor reflection on those fine wordsmiths at the Greenock Telegraph – which, in case you hadn’t heard, is in fact the finest local newspaper in the West Coast of Scotland – no, in the whole of Scotland! (and if that isn’t a claim worthy of the Sun then I don’t know what is) It is merely meant to reflect my utter admiration for people who work under stressful conditions – without super quality caffeine on an IV.

When I began my two days I knew roughly what to expect since I had spent some time there before. I felt prepared.

So this time, when I walked through those double doors at 9:30, I did not feel such an amateur. I slid in front of my very own computer booth, tapped in my personal log-in and snapped on my secretary-come-secret agent headset. Reporters notepad on desk, pen in front pocket and handbag stocked with reporter-like things tucked at my side, ready to be grabbed at the click of my editors fingers.

Everything was going well as I spent the morning fashioning nibs from local ads (what we in the industry call those little fillers at the side of the page that tell you of local events and whatnot). It was only when my trust-me-I’m-a-journalist shirt began to feel just a little chilly, that I noticed the other warning signs. The thirst. The headache. The tightening around the eyes that seemed to spread to my jaw. Eventually using a slightly shaking hand to straighten my short-in-a-sexy-yet-sensible-way skirt I had to admit it – it was coffee time!

10:30am. Damn it. I had hoped to make it til at least 11 before I let the caffeine get the better of me but hey, strong coffee is a mark of a true journalist, right?

But when I get to the tea room, I was a little… disheartened. Not so much disappointed, that would be too much. But my heart swelled a little at the sight before me, and not in that joyful way it sometimes does, more in that way that tells you something awful has happened but that your too pumped with adrenaline to appreciate it.

There was coffee, sure. And it was instant, which is fine, more than fine, it’s great. But it was the second most intolerable instant coffee known to man. It was that dreaded fiend, Tescos own brand. Not even one of the decent ones that tasted just like the good stuff but a slightly more aerated colour in a different jar. It was that rubbish that takes two spoonfuls to have a taste, two more to just about bear some morose resemblance to coffee. And the worst part – it was decaf! I know, I felt it too; the horror. I mean for goodness sake, why even bother drinking something characterised by its potentially heart disease creating key ingredient in favour of a version which might boost you concentration a tiny bit more but has only been so far proven to do in mice!? I can think of other kinds of murky water that could well have the same effect and probably taste about the same!

This sad scene put something of a dampener on my morning, but I was not prepared to let it beat me; so I had three more before noon and by then, things began to look significantly brighter.

I have nothing against the humble instant coffee; I drink cups of the sweet brown nectar everyday (black, two sugars, if you’re interested), and I did feel so suave and journalisty sitting in front of my pile of half read dailys, shorthand notes and copy print-outs. The steaming mug to my right was the perfect addition to my completed look; keen young reporter at work, disturb and face her cutting wit. Even the glasses perched half way off the end of my nose since I wouldn’t see the computer screen from the ridiculous distance it was stationed away from me made me appear somehow like I fitted my situation. (whoever sat at that desk before me must have been the most long-sighted fellow ever to have lived, by the way, and I think they superglued that tower to the flippin’ desk because for all my efforts, it would not move closer)

But be serious. I am only 19 years old and while yes, I may have acquired an unhealthy addiction to strong coffee at a young age, the rest of the people in that office were there every dayDrinking that stuff.

I knew I would be flagging after two days of that. My means of remedying a potentially embarrassing situation?

I brought my coffee, thank-you very much.

That’s right, in a sandwich bag. I brought enough of my favourite from home to last me the day and low and behold, my two days ended marvelously. I had a couple of pieces submitted for the paper for the rest of the week and went on my merry way, even with the promise of future days work to come.

So, ladies and gentlemen of the press, I would like to take this opportunity to impart these words of simple wisdom to you: If you work in an environment where concentration is key, make sure you are well stocked in whatever you need. Be that cigarettes for the nicotine addicts out there; biscuits and bananas for the diabetics, as I can only assume Eric, who had the desk next to me must have been since for all the time I was there the man never stopped snacking yet was not fat; or in my case, decent coffee. Make sure you have what you need and it will give you the confidence and the focus to enjoy the experience more.

See you in the headlines!!

SSDD

There is a Thief on Quality Street…

Picture the scene.

It’s 11th August, the eve of my 19th birthday… I, like most teenagers on a slow, Saturday afternoon, am sitting before my laptop, my thoughts torn between my next mission in Tuscany in Assassins Creed II and what shoes would best match my jeans for a party I was going to that night…

When a tentative knock on my front door disturbs my reverie!

Who should make waves in my proverbial pond of ponderings??…

Picture next, me, rising from my throne (kitchen chair) alighting to the grand entrance (front porch) with all the good grace of an arthritic penguin (a teenager in a penguin onesie being made to move when they would rather stay seated). But instead of some visitor, what should i find on my doorstep –

A TIN OF QUALITY STREET!!

That’s right; a tin of Quality Street, complete with blue ribbon and a beautiful birthday card from my 80-something year old neighbour, as a one-day-early birthday present.

Now, kind reader, you would be forgiven for thinking that this is a happy tale. It is not.

Because when I sat down to peruse the chocolately box of faux-gems, I noticed something peculiar – the distracting lack of colour to be seen…

Of all the yummies contained within that attractively rich looking tin, there were two colours that were noticeable mainly by their absence – the iconic, Big Purple One and the Big Green Triangle; where on earth were they!?

I searched that entire box and in all of it, only found one Big Green Triangle and only two Big Purple Ones!!

Considering the purple ones are my mums favourite, you can imagine the disappointment… And that Green One I had (before I realised it was the only one!!) was one of the yummiest pralines I think I have ever had.

And so this regaling tale ends. With me, a 19 year old unable to provide my mum with her favourite sweets through a saddening and distinctly random shortfall from ™. Luckily my dad’s favourite is the Toffee Finger or else we’d really be having problems…

Then again, I do love the Strawberry Creme ones… and those Orange Cremes, too… and the Caramel Cups are delicious… and so are…

Ok, so the tin is not a total loss, but c’mon! They are two of the iconic chocs, the ones that are instantly recognizable! And some little sweetie thief has gone and hand-picked them away from me! Tis a lamentable tale, to be sure.

Nestlé, take better care in your delivering of treats, to avoid disappointing a poor, innocent 19 year old on her birthday, and shattering her dreams of a rainbow-foil-filled field crunching under her, as she sits, surrounded by empty wrappers. Because a rainbow-foil-filled field is not a rainbow foil-filled field if it is missing purple and green. In fact, it’s hardly a field at all. More just a bit of a mess, really.

Ah well. It was my birthday, so I’ll be damned if I’m the one clearing up that particular mess!!

As for the empty cider bottles…

😉 😛

SSDD

What do you call this, Nestle??