In between looking after ailing partners, a plague rat cub, and trying to get back to work (at least remotely), I decided to write some randomness as a block breaker. I’m trying to rekindle the writing so just letting stuff spool out of the brain seemed a good idea:
There are few guilty treasures in life like discovering a rogue After Eight mint tucked away at the end of the box – especially if it’s tucked flush against the end that looks empty, overshadowed by one of the tabs. The feel of the smooth waxy paper against your fingertips instead of cardboard sends an illicit thrill up your spine that is part surprise and part anticipatory glee.
It’s like finding an unexpected fiver in your winter coat pocket when you put it on for the first frosty morning of the year – except that the associated gratification is far more immediate, and comes wrapped in mint fondant and dark chocolate.