A short but important (to me) note on a Twix.
My grandmother was a fantastic lady who fought cancer gallantly and eventually lost. She died when I was 18 and I still think of her and her husband (my Papa, who died 6 months before her) everyday. I wonder does anyone else have a strong emotion attached to a biscuit like me?
Every Sunday my Nana, in those later years of my teenage life, would come over to my parents home for supper after church. I was usually studying or trying to watch TV and didn’t fully appreciate the time I had with her then; ah, the pain of hindsight. Anyway, she always bought me a Twix, sometimes a double Twix and I now associate them with her. When I eat one I feel her presence, is that silly?
So, do you think of it as a biscuit or a chocolate bar? It’s one of those ones that crosses the barrier. A biscuit base with caramel on top all covered in chocolate. Until I die I shall demand that it be recognised as biscuit and with all my energy, I shall challenge you to duel if you disagree. My Nana called it a biscuit and therefore it was/is. She also kept them in the fridge, the chocolate was nicer that way and the caramel took longer to melt.
How do you eat yours?? I break it in half, take one half at a time and nibble the chocolate from around the edges, eat off the caramel and thoroughly enjoy it melting on my tongue, then eat the crunchy base. Good grief, I’m dribbling all over the place thinking about it. To just eat it as is, is sacrilege and will not be tolerated in my home! But I respect your right to eat your Twix in whatever way you wish, out of my sight. My way, is the proper way though and that should go without saying really.
Do you have a biscuit with an emotional attachment?
Carrie Gault. plain
**You will notice that, this being Carrie’s fifth post, she has been formally awarded the title plain. Details of the honours system can be found here.
She is the first of our honoured contributors to have reached this level and we salute her. Ave, Carrie.plain