Sunday afternoon, layed on sofa watching an old movie Goldie Hawn, Chevie Chase rom-com capers from the 70's all good fun... EVERY single advert break the same thing
Caramel, cue chunks of caramel cascading down the screen then melted into vanilla icecream with pieces of Belgian WAFFLLLLLEEEEE, dropped onto the melted CARAMEEEELLLLLLLL on top of the creamy ICE CREAMMMMMMMM with WAFFFLLLEEEE like a tempting mantra flying around my head
Seriously people give it a REST, I can hardly think of anything else, by evening I am almost about to run to the corner shop to buy some ice-cream when I fondly remember the last time I made a Sunday evening shopping trip there 4years ago!
There I am (ahhh my misty glasses on looking at this beautiful memory) standing in front of the chocolate, taking my time, picking things up, changing my mind, changing it again having a nice time deciding which treats I would indulge in when my dreamy trance was shattered by a loud Jamaican voice...
"That's what I like to see, the larger lady"
Cue my horror, the shopkeepers look of utter pity, another customer actually squint with the pain of the situation, I turn to see a tall, slim Rasta man with a henna beard and a grin on his face...I am speechless, I have lost the power to move, I stand there clutching a Twix and a bag of Malteasers....
"I could make you happy all night, big woman like you"
Is he chatting me up? Is he trying to make me cry? Is is HIGH???
I dropped the chocolate back onto the counter and left, IN A HURRY
Needless to say I have never been back to that shop in the evening, and I certainly have never been on a chocolate run there....