Tuesday, 9 September 2008

Death by Crystallised Ginger

There are certain indicators in place to warn you when you are getting old – that sigh that accompanies sitting down (or standing up), slippers – last worn aged 7 – become a rather sensible idea, and snacks like crystallised ginger suddenly seem strangely palatable.

Anyone get the feeling this is birthday week?

I was passed a small piece of sugary ginger the other week and, since it was 4pm - the time I am usually bug-eyed from lack of sugar - I took the bait, and was soon bug eyed for another reason. Ooo the sugary sharpness – yes, I had found a new obsession. Be gone Twirl bars.

The next day saw me with my own tub of crystallised ginger. This is going to be fantastic, I thought – semi (cough) healthy, and sweet – how can you go wrong? Oh the naivety. I soon realized my error 4 ginger bits in – my tongue was practically melting. I have discovered the sweet that is impossible to binge on – any more than 6 in a row and I fear I am breaking out in a red gingery sweat.

And so my little tub of crystallised ginger sits by the keyboard and haunts me. I like it, I want it, and every time I go for it I have to judder back, whimpering, until the ginger taste dies down. I am like a stupid puppy when it comes to sugar. So will I learn? Or will I keep getting my nose rapped by ginger? Only time will tell.

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