As I sit here, to my left is an empty gold wrapper. That wrapper belonged to nothing else but a Cadbury Crunchie bar.
My love affair with Crunchies began when I was in grade school, performing at Irish Step Dancing competitions around Massachusetts. One thing that every feis had in common was a smattering of items for sale, from ghillies to tara brooches, from custom made dresses to fancy bags to carry them in. And then there was UK candy.
Naturally when I was reunited with Crunchies in London last week I was delighted.
"Of course," John said when I asked if I could stop at one of the tiny shops at Heathrow to stock up on my way home.
Tonight, sitting in my small, hot Cambridge apartment letting the chocolate melt off the honeycomb in my mouth before I chomp into the bar it's like I'm ten years old again. I'm sitting on a folding metal chair in the back room of an east coast town hall, the smell of Aquanet mingling with the fresh leather smell of my ghillies, waiting for my mother to take the curlers out of my hair so I can pin my number card to the front of my dress and dance.
Thank you, London, for that.
Another fun example (one of many)?
At a bar/club called Barrio Central in SoHo, John drank a beer from Cuba.
That's certainly not happening over here any time soon. Silly me, I stuck to rum and cokes.