Got (Mini) Milk?

Today, something terrible happened to me.

Something that shook me to my very core.

I went to buy a Mini Milk ice cream from my local corner shop, and they didn’t have any.

What kind of shop doesn’t sell Mini Milks?

Instead, I was offered a poor-mans alternative; an ice lolly with popping candy at the very tip.

Ice LOLLY. Not ice CREAM. An ice lolly, as in, frozen flavoured water. Frozen water that came with a 35p price tag. I’m sure Mini Milks used to be 10p, and you got a bit of your recommended daily allowance of calcium thrown in as well.

It was a terrible disappointment.

I mean, to be fair to the ice lolly (and to the man in the shop who suggested it), it was actually quite nice. But that’s not the point – I wanted my Mini Milk.

I can’t help but feel that my Mini Milk aggression can be somewhat attributed to the fact that I’ve given up bread in the run up to my holidays. I don’t think I have ever wanted a cheese sandwich more than I do right now.

In the weeks since Matt has gone, I have turned into a cheese and chutney sandwich beast. They are all I want to eat. So, in an effort to shed a few pounds before I go away, I thought it would be a good idea to give up bread. What a mistake. I didn’t realise how much I ate! It also doesn’t help that just before I decided I was going to quit bread, Matt had a huge box of chutney delivered to me (what a swine. He’s like an evil chutney dealer, tempting me back to the sordid bread side).

Now I have four jars of chutney looking at me every time I open the cupboard. My only consolation is that once I do get to France, I am going to eat bread and cheese until it comes out of my ears. I’ll have a bread and cheese party, and it will be amazing.

In the meantime though, it looks like I’ll be taking out my bread cravings on the man from the local shop.