Summer gluttony

Once again I have been lax in my blogging. I cannot and shall not go into the complexities and upsets of the past month, but what I can say is that I have taken great comfort in outlandish quantities of my favourite confectionery.

In my last post I sang the praises of malformed chocolate, PC and pro-diversity foodie that I am. So I was of course far from disappointed when my friend Kate brought me back a hefty box of assorted white chocolates from Belgium, most of which had fused together to form a warped block of solid godliness. 

The only snag came when I bit into an unidentified nut. In case you haven’t read previous posts or have simply forgotten my arbitrary ailment, I am allergic to macadamia nuts. In that split second I could not be sure that my friend had had the foresight to look up the Flemish word for "macadamia" before embarking on her thoughtful quest of picking every white chocolate that the establishment offered. I'm fairly sure she likes me enough to not intentionally nudge me into anaphylactic shock, and I'm equally sure it didn't feel like a macadamia nut anyway - however, wanting to avoid A&E at all costs, I think I did the right (if slightly unbecoming) thing by spitting the contents of my mouth into the kitchen sink. Fyi, I am yet to find an online Flemish dictionary containing the word, although I am inclined to guess that the translation would in fact be "macadamia".

The gorging did not stop there. Next in line for demolition were my slightly melted but still exquisite American white chocolate KitKats, which are almost identical to their European brethren. One difference: the fingers appear shorter, an illusion I believe to be brought about by novel packaging, whereby the bars are much more tightly wrapped. Having fairly dinky fingers myself, I do feel a particular affinity for these bars.

And so, having spent the past month feasting on Belgian blobs, foreign KitKats, leftover cubes of budget white chocolate from the Blondies that I baked, not to mention grandma’s white-chocolate-drizzled tiffin, I had planned to give my long-suffering arteries a bit of respite.

But then I was blindsided.

The Milky Bar Kid and I were enjoying a game of Countdown on his iPad – yes, we are that fun and interesting. As I mentioned in my very first post, I’m a language lover and I find nothing more relaxing than a word game. However, the Countdown Conundrum – the finale anagram - often eludes me. So imagine how thrilled I was to solve the Conundrum well within the 30-second time limit. I excitedly typed in “R.E.I.N.S.E.R.T.S”, only to be told…

EXCUSE ME????
Overcome with indignation and, yes, rage, there was only one solution:

Mickey Mouse, my saviour, my enabler.