Tunnock Trips

Getting hooked

Tunnock’s caramel wafers. There’s my ruin. Always has been. I admit it. Had my first when seven. What a hit. The wrapper glittered delightfully, the taste was enchanted. I blame my mother. If she hadn’t bought them from the bread van that fateful day I’d not be in the state I am today. Of course I never thought of that when I was seven. Nor eleven. Not even when I was seventeen. I was, a sleek, and though I say it myself (demurely of course), not unattractive youth with no signs of my addiction save a few fetching teenage pimples. In any case it wasn’t really an addiction in these days. Not really. Just an occasional harmless self indulgence. I was in control. I could stop when I wanted. Sure I could.

But the years have changed that.

It’s a craving now. There’s no point in conning myself any more: it’s a habit and it’s hard to kick. All the harder because of it’s availability. The new dealer is worse than the old. Temptress that she is! She keeps the supply on tap. The fourth cupboard on the right from the sink, on top of the box for the deep fat fryer is where it’s stashed. Little glittering packages of death beaming out their seductive signals to the weak-minded and foolish.

I need to stop. A ballooning waistline leaves this in no doubt. But.... I can’t. The memory of melting milk chocolate mingling with chewy caramel is just too... tantalisingly irresistible. Where’s that cupboard?

Cold turkey

Have a beautiful waistline.