It was cold and dark outside. I went up the plank. It wasn’t a plank, of course. It was like boarding an aircraft. I did a quick tour. I bought a McDonald’s strawberry milkshake and then went to the newsagent and asked for a packet of Opal Fruits. The girl looked at me and I groaned and said, ‘Starburst.’ She nodded and lifted them off the shelf. ‘They used to be called Opal Fruits,’ I said. ‘They changed the name because the Americans call their Opal Fruits “Starburst”.’
‘Oh,’ she said.
‘And do you know why they call them Starburst?’
‘No.’
‘Because the astronauts took them into space. Existed on them. They’re packed with fruit juice. There’s a dozen square meals in this packet, and all for just thirty-two pence.’
‘Thirty-five.’
I handed her the money. ‘You’re okay. You’re young. You don’t remember. The glory days of Marathons and Pacers and Toblerones.’
‘We still have Toblerones.’
‘Yes, but they’re the size of fuck all. Used to be you’d break your teeth on them. Like Wagon Wheels.”
'You couldn’t break your teeth on a Wagon Wheel. They’re soft.’
Behind me a man in a blue tracksuit said, ‘No, I know what he means, Wagon Wheels used to be huge.’
I looked from him to the shop assistant and sighed. ‘Maybe they still are. Maybe we just got bigger.’
We all nodded sagely for several moments . . .
1 comment:
Nothing to do with the plot. I just like old confectionary.
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