Today I pay a flying visit to my home town. It feels as if it has shrunk since I was a teenager. Like the crisp bags I used to miniaturise in the oven at a low temperature. Quavers for goblins. KP Skips for elves.
I was a fan of small. Babybel used to be a medium-sized cheese that you cut into wedges. Then mini versions arrived. Still the same bland, slightly sour, milky rubber. Horrible. But small! And therefore unbearably exciting.
In the same vein, I used to like those mini-Hovis rolls. The ones shaped like a tiny loaf. I didn't particularly like the flavour - wholemeal is the driest and foulest of all breads - but that was insignificant next to the incalculable delight of cutting tiny slices, and making stupidly small sandwiches. Inevitably filled with pointless Babybel. Hooray.
It's quite a relief that Heroes and Celebrations weren't around when I was growing up. I know that I'd have been an avid fan (MINIATURES!), and would have wolfed them down. Iced Gems were far safer - off-puttingly sweet icing, hard as plaster, on top of a dubiously hamsterish biscuit. Three or four and you'd have to stop, with a mouth as dried out as the Gobi.
Just as well there was an inherent deterrent. Because my love of small did not extend to portion control...
Not then. Not now.
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