Salty Tears

I don't know what flashed Mr Simms Olde Sweet Shoppe into my mind today, but I suddenly felt an urge of pure sugar-rush to visit it as Monday's clocking-off bell sounded (well in my head anyway). I had to make a dash for it, and only made it in time before it shut.

Part of that subliminal thing was the fact that MrsB had already been to the shops today to buy some false-teeth-shaped sweets to post to grandson Kai in Maldives. These as well as socks, were his only request received this morning in his viber-phone call. He loves sweets and socks in equal measure it seems. Funny little fellow.

My second Pavlovian Response was the fact I am off to Douglas, in the Isle of Man tomorrow. I am going for a couple of days with Noah to view the latest artist schemes on our Seven Manx Towns project. He and I have both become a little obsessed with salt licorice over the years, a bad habit brought on mainly by some work we did together some time back in Copenhagen, where such addiction is rife. Nowadays, as I spend most of my time away 'cadging' his diminishing supply, I felt it only right to go and buy some of my own to share. Not sure why salty licorice should grow on you but it does, and so good is Mr Simms' fine establishment, that they had 5 jars of different shape, hardness and saltyness to choose from (that as well as chilli licorice). Some of them make your eyes water, and so are not for us.

In the end, I came away with a modest stash of medium hard and salty grade, as well as a small packet of Barratt's hard aniseed 'Black Jacks'. These are the sweets that along with 'Fruit Salads', flying saucers or sherbet dips used to form the best bits of a daily Lucky Bag bought on the way home from school with a 'thre'penny-bit' (3 old pence, now equating to 1.5p or £0.015). This time I didn't have much change from a fiver! Blimey.

Incredible to report that all my teeth are still intact and with few fillings. No Gummy Bears in our house.