My colleague Ann presented me with a bag of Revels yesterday. Yeah. Revels. The Russian roulette of chocolate. Bad times in a brown and orange bag. I accepted gracefully, of course. I accept most things gracefully; it's my defeatist nature. "I hope they're okay" she said anxiously, presumably noticing that I hadn't immediately hoovered them into me like I do most other tidbits she presents me with. "They're great!" I lied, and I tucked them into my handbag to give to Andrew later. "I've just been given a packet of Revels" I spat into google chat. "The secret is to keep some of the obviously safe ones in reserve" Colm counseled. The secret is to buy the Friday treats myself, I thought, and not entrust my mid-morning happiness to Ann. I left them in my handbag and sprayed my way through a ricecake instead.
I finished up at lunchtime and in my hurry to be shot of the office, skipped lunch and went to Tesco to do the week's shopping. Have you ever been to Tesco in Finglas? When you're hungry? I bought a month's worth of provisions and stuffed them all into the three bags I'd brought with me, dropping things on the floor and smacking my trolley into toddlers, like a poster child for why one should not shop on an empty stomach. In Finglas. Then I bundled it all into the boot and headed home, furious with the world and everyone in it.
I was stopped at the lights in Phibsboro, quietly fuming at the injustice of it all, when I remembered the Revels in my handbag. The secret is to keep some of the obviously safe ones in reserve! I thought, tearing the bag open with my teeth as I changed up from first and wobbled on through the lights, delighted with myself that I was not going to starve to death on Constitution Hill with a boot full of groceries after all. Two caramel, one malt and three raisin Revels in, the sugar reached my brain and I experienced one of those endorphin rushes that athletes talk about but that I find much easier to achieve with cheap confectionery. I felt wonderful again. So wonderful that I threw caution to the wind and stopped mauling each sweet to try to determine its makeup before popping it in my mouth. I got a chocolate one. And then an orange one (which was a bit mank, but manageable). And then a few more raisins and caramels. There are no coffee ones in here! Delighted with myself, I briefly considered complaining to the makers in the hope they might send me some free sweets, but then I worried that they'd only send coffee ones in an effort to compensate, so I decided against it. And then I tipped the last (two) of the melt-in-my-mouth lovelies into my greedy maw, only to heave a horrified moan and dribble coffee-flavoured chocolate disconsolately down my chin as I crossed Father Matthew bridge and made the rest of my miserable way home.
I finished up at lunchtime and in my hurry to be shot of the office, skipped lunch and went to Tesco to do the week's shopping. Have you ever been to Tesco in Finglas? When you're hungry? I bought a month's worth of provisions and stuffed them all into the three bags I'd brought with me, dropping things on the floor and smacking my trolley into toddlers, like a poster child for why one should not shop on an empty stomach. In Finglas. Then I bundled it all into the boot and headed home, furious with the world and everyone in it.
I was stopped at the lights in Phibsboro, quietly fuming at the injustice of it all, when I remembered the Revels in my handbag. The secret is to keep some of the obviously safe ones in reserve! I thought, tearing the bag open with my teeth as I changed up from first and wobbled on through the lights, delighted with myself that I was not going to starve to death on Constitution Hill with a boot full of groceries after all. Two caramel, one malt and three raisin Revels in, the sugar reached my brain and I experienced one of those endorphin rushes that athletes talk about but that I find much easier to achieve with cheap confectionery. I felt wonderful again. So wonderful that I threw caution to the wind and stopped mauling each sweet to try to determine its makeup before popping it in my mouth. I got a chocolate one. And then an orange one (which was a bit mank, but manageable). And then a few more raisins and caramels. There are no coffee ones in here! Delighted with myself, I briefly considered complaining to the makers in the hope they might send me some free sweets, but then I worried that they'd only send coffee ones in an effort to compensate, so I decided against it. And then I tipped the last (two) of the melt-in-my-mouth lovelies into my greedy maw, only to heave a horrified moan and dribble coffee-flavoured chocolate disconsolately down my chin as I crossed Father Matthew bridge and made the rest of my miserable way home.
