Allsorts

When I was a child my parents always bought me a box of licourice allsorts at Christmas. On Xmas morning the only present I really wanted to open was that familiar shaped box of Bassetts.

I would remove the paper, open the top of the box, pull apart the inner bag -- and then stick my face in. I would then breath in that wonderful smell of fresh sweet licourice. I was in heaven.

I ate them slowly over the following week, savouring every mouthful.

My children now buy me a box of allsorts for Christmas. And, of course, I observe the ritual. Everyone laughs as they watch me go through the routine.

I breath in -- and I am instantly transported fifty to sixty years back in time to that house in Harrow where I lived as a child. I am that child again -- not this ageing crumpled old bloke who is terrified of the future or what`s left of it...

Inside, deep down, in those dusty corners, I am that child. What you see is just the old husk of a man.

I`ll always be that boy at Christmas with his face in a bag of allsorts...


.