Poor Mans Chocolate Dige

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If Dige, as they’re known as here, is written on the shopping list, then plain, non-chocolate ones are rarely purchased. The only decent non branded, non-chocolate digestives are Sainsburys Basics, and we only go to Sainsburys when my parents kindly pop a few pounds on the gift card. So if digestives are required, at a cheap rate, then they have to have chocolate on them and for me they have to come from Aldi. Smaller than your average digestive but good, oh so good. Trust me Mcvities lose. Although perhaps I secretly always hope for posh Mcvities dark chocolate digestives, even if the cheap ones do taste better.

I’ve day-dreamed about who I might become everyday for as long as I can recall. At the age of 9 I longed to be a farmer with a motor bike, then a Greenpeace warrior, storming whale boats and protesting in trees. As a young teenager I think I fantasised most about being a designer or make-up artist, enter my life long obsession with Boy George. I day dreamed about being a drug addict drummer, in an all female band, wearing tight jeans and an oversized baggy white vest, showing too much bra. I’ve been a high powered executive, living in a huge open plan London apartment with my lesbian life partner and our 4 dogs. I’ve been a florist, a mechanic, a comedian, a mother with 15 children, a millionaire’s wife, a lonely whiskey-soaked artist, and most commonly a teacher. I’ve not become what I’ve dreamt of being, and I never will. But I have my dreamland and I have achievements yet to make I’m sure. Today was a dreamy day. I did not want to be at home, obsessing about a rug that smells and trying to convince my boys they like each other. So I disappeared off, to a life in my head. I was sat on the toilet, imagining I was in another world, whilst conversing with the boys about how there’s only 1 Annie and 1 Clarabel and they needed to sort out themselves who gets who, (not the last time they’ll fight over girls perhaps) when a terrifying red bug attacked me, I flailed my arms in panic and dropped the tissue I’d been using (not to wipe my nose) butter side down on the bathroom floor. Landing me smack bang in the middle of reality. I had been attacked by a ladybird.

My reality is not really one I feel justified in occasionally wanting to escape from. A loving husband, healthy twin boys, my own sofas and 2 entertaining cats. We have a budget that allows for non-branded digestives (thank you Canterbury City Council) and frequently get to have adventures away from home. So much like my desire for branded digestives, I think I will always daydream of a better, or should I say different existence, but really I’m perfectly content with the cheaper, much tastier poor-man’s chocolate dige.

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