Sugar sweet

One of the many and varied topics that Simon and I discussed, this weekend, was that of confectionery. (In fact, the Minx was in on that conversation, too.) We reminisced about our childhoods and how the adults in our lives - particularly our grandparents - would treat us with biscuits and sweets. 

I was born in 1966 (I'll be 51 next Sunday) and when I was small in the late sixties and early seventies, the second world war seemed like ancient history to me. In fact, it had been over for barely twenty years. (For context, it's twenty years ago this year since Diana died.) The horrors of the Blitz, then, were relatively fresh in the minds of the generations above mine.

As was rationing, which had only ended twelve years beforehand. I wonder then if these facts account not only for why we were spoiled but also whether they contributed to the manner in which we were spoilt: that is, with sugar. 

God knows we paid the price, if only in trips to the dentist, which must have been a bloody lucrative profession back then (and I suspect it remains to this day). But despite all that dental work, I'm sorry to say that my sweet tooth has never been removed.

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-3.4kg