I have a tale to tell, I feel it needs to be shared as often the humble biscuit is not seen as the true embodiment of happiness and strength that it can be.
Let me explain.
December 2000, my now husband and I were in Morocco on a quickie holiday to the sun whilst the depression of winter hung over Northern Ireland. Not a drop of rain, not a cloud in the sky, not a bureau de change to be found open. Ah, Ramadan. We did once manage to find a kind gent in the hotel we staid at who opened up for a few precious hours one day and travellers’ cheques were exchanged in haste. Thanks goodness we had gone to a half board hotel or by then I fear we would have died, though at least we would have been together…. thinner by far (as of course the food was disgusting) but together in our sadness.
The holiday went well, I more or less exchanged all my cheques into ‘real’ Moroccan money and thus was flush, Andrew on the other hand had only transformed some of his – silly boy. I therefore ended up buying all sorts of blankets and trinkets for him to take home and had nothing for myself. This I could cope with; I am a gracious, selfish angel placed on this earth to bring joy to all who come into my path.
The last day arrived and mixed emotions rose to the surface. I truly, deeply wanted something, anything small to take home as a memento of my travels. We dandered to the shop across the way whilst waiting for the coach to come and whisk us away to the unhappy building that is an airport. But I was also starving and very warm. I bought water (2 litres, NO disgusting bubbles), it was a necessity, then with my last few coins, well they looked so good, I needed their comforting presence in my life……2 crispy, crumbly round buttery biscuits stuck together with the most wondrous chocolate ganache. Dear God I wish I knew their name or even the name of the company that made them, joy was what I bought (often believed to be impossible to buy with mere money). Joy in a fat shiny packet; shared with my loved one with a little water ~ the holiday was complete. It is my favourite memory of the whole experience away, unfortunately I never got a keepsake out of it, I polished them all off and the wrapper was taken from me by an over zealous cleaning lady; she just didn’t understand the crazy Irish girl who wanted to keep her rubbish, there was a tussle but I won’t go into that, it is slightly embarassing.
I will always remember that first bite….