Monday, 19 August 2013

Chocolate Memories

A few months ago I entered a short story competition.

I'm in awe of all the wonderful writers out there and when I read the idea behind the story I thought I would put pen to paper/fingers to the keyboard and have a go.

Well I heard this week that I didn't make it as a finalist so I've decided to post it here and find out what people think.
Is it time to pack away the pen and tune the imagination out or carry on and see what else lurks within this mind of mine.

Here goes:


I long to be anywhere else but here, I've counted all the tiles, 420 to be precise and mentally re-arranged the furniture.
This nil by mouth thing is really getting to me, suddenly everything reminds me of food and not just any food but that sweet melt in the mouth heavenly gift from the gods treat we call chocolate.
I keep closing my eyes because maybe then the yellow coloured foam sticking out of the visitors chair will stop looking like a giant Crunchie bar or the TV like a square of Dairy milk (why couldn't it have been a flat screen) Even my medication made me think of the old Astros that Cadbury's used to make.
The nurse came in earlier all in white with a pen behind her ear, she looked like a dancing ice cream with a Flake, I don't know if its the lack of food or the sedative that's making me delusional but I hope they come for me before I start eating inanimate objects.

I need to find a distraction, maybe my book will help.
'He leaned closer to her, she smelt so' ooh what's that on the page, damn its a bit of Curly Wurly I must have dropped some when I was last reading it. Would one little lick ruin the nil by mouth, is it worth taking that chance. Maybe I will just sniff it, it smells so good, that smell triggers memories.

My first real memory of chocolate, was when I was at my auntie's house for dinner sadly she had cooked and not taken up the hint of a take away from the 7 leaflets we had taken with us.
So after I'd eaten some of my cooked meat chicken, sliced gravy and pureed mash, I was still starving and scared to eat anything that didn't come in a packet from my auntie's kitchen.
So what a relief when she explained the custard had burnt (well 10 minutes in a microwave would do that), meaning we would have to make do with some buttons.
Now I was only tiny but after several lectures from my parents I had soon learnt that you didn't eat your clothes and I figured that after the meal she had cooked she would try to serve us anything so it was a happy surprise when she handed over this purple bag with little brown discs in, I put one in my mouth tentatively and the smooth sweet taste won me over, turns out the woman got something right that evening.

When it comes to chocolate I am a comfort eater, no I'm a happy eater, or is that a stress eater. Oh ok I admit it, I'm just a chocolate eater.
If there was a chocoholic's anonymous, I would be told to go. I wouldn't though because the biscuits would be horrible, I mean what's a biscuit without chocolate! Thinking about it though I would consider attending CA if they believed in aversion therapy, I would happily pretend to be under duress as they dropped me into a vat of Dairy Milk. But what if it worked and I never wanted chocolate again, it would be the end of my most loyal relationship and one of my longest.

Me and chocolate have been going strong for 23 years, if I could marry it I would.
I mean Anthea Turner married Cadbury's Flake, I remember it clearly, Anthea and the flake in the wedding pictures, clever lady.
I mean its there for her at the time of the month, when she's happy, sad and it doesn't have opposable thumbs so there wouldn't be any channel changing. I bet they are still going strong now, unless she cheated on it with Twirl,

If I could marry any chocolate bar, I think I would marry a Wispa Gold, the olympian of chocolates. Its not Wispa Bronze or Wispa Silver but Gold and as a woman with expensive tastes the Wispa Gold is perfect, plus the luscious caramel and melty tiny bubbles make this such a divine bar.

I'm sooooo hungry, a trip down memory lane is nice but what I really want is to create new chocolatey memories.
Yay here comes the walking ice cream again, I think its my turn to go to theatre.

I've been back from theatre 3 hours now and the grogginess is wearing off and thankfully so have the hallucinations. But the hunger, that's still there and all I've been offered is water and bread. I feel like I'm in a Dickens story, please sir can I have some more.
The lady opposite me has grapes, she kindly offered me one but I tapped my nil by mouth sign and explained I couldn't eat them, she did look oddly at the bread in my hand but how can they say that grapes are a good gift for the sick, that would depress me even more, after surgery you shouldn't be thinking about your 5 a day.

I've warned my visitors, I don't eat fruit at home and now the doctors have seen me naked on the operating table, we have no secrets so I won't be pretending I'm a good girl who listens to the food rules.
Its chocolate, jewellery, teddy bears, books etc for me.

Come to think of it that would be my wedding registry as well, wouldn't it be great if you could go round Cadbury's registering for things like a years supply of creme eggs or double deckers, ah heck its your wedding day have both. His and hers chocolates now that would be totally awesome, unless he was a diabetic then being the dutiful wife I would have to eat his, can you say HARDSHIP (not)

Its 6pm and that means visitors, I've been working that maternal pull for the last couple of hours and telepathically sending chocolate thoughts to my mum, she's a smart woman I'm sure she will have worked out why her hand keeps jumping into her purse.
Ooh I can see them and they have bags.
Lucazade, yes a hospital staple. Magazines, great some gossip. Tissues, um ok, I suppose in case the magazines are weepy. Breath spray, what exactly are they implying? Actually maybe they have a point cough,cough!
Still though I can't seem to see any chocolates, ok its not the end of the world, just a huge alteration to life as we know it.

Then from behind his back my dad pulls out a purple box and like that everything is reaffirmed, my dad my hero.
Because the lady loves, milk tray!

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