Special post for cousin Jenny
This is a special post dedicated to my cousin Jenny. I know she reads this blog but claims she doesn't know how to leave comments. Frankly I think this is a rubbish excuse so I'm demanding here and now that a comment is left! Come on girl! Just try!
Jenny and I are actually quite distant cousins (our grandmothers were first cousins, so you work it out) but every year since our childhood we have met up on a family reunion. As children, staying in a hotel with lots of family was the most exciting thing ever. Every year our attention turned to the the little packs of biscuits and tea bags that are put in the rooms.
Jenny and I collected as many of these freebies as possible, calling them our 'survival packs'. We decanted the loot into the little paper bags with a picture of a victorian lady on the front, kindly supplied in all the ladies toilets.
Anyway, we were soon knocking on aunties doors demanding spare nescafe sachets, and when that supply was exhausted I'm ashamed to say we took to stealing them from the chamber maids trolleys, and from the newly laid breakfast tables in the restaurant. Those mini packs of butter and jam were prized possessions and our appetite for augmenting our survival packs was insatiable.
It's amazing really but at the age of 7 you really have no shame at all wandering about all day clutching a sanitary bag full of marmalade and little plastic cartons of UHT milk. How our parents must have laughed.
All I can say is that they would have laughed on the other side of their faces should we have encountered a blizzard on the streets of Bakewell, and required the immediate sustenance that only a twin pack of custard creams can deliver.
(by the way Jenny, I still haven't forgotten that I want a comment from you.)
Jenny and I are actually quite distant cousins (our grandmothers were first cousins, so you work it out) but every year since our childhood we have met up on a family reunion. As children, staying in a hotel with lots of family was the most exciting thing ever. Every year our attention turned to the the little packs of biscuits and tea bags that are put in the rooms.
Jenny and I collected as many of these freebies as possible, calling them our 'survival packs'. We decanted the loot into the little paper bags with a picture of a victorian lady on the front, kindly supplied in all the ladies toilets.
Anyway, we were soon knocking on aunties doors demanding spare nescafe sachets, and when that supply was exhausted I'm ashamed to say we took to stealing them from the chamber maids trolleys, and from the newly laid breakfast tables in the restaurant. Those mini packs of butter and jam were prized possessions and our appetite for augmenting our survival packs was insatiable.
It's amazing really but at the age of 7 you really have no shame at all wandering about all day clutching a sanitary bag full of marmalade and little plastic cartons of UHT milk. How our parents must have laughed.
All I can say is that they would have laughed on the other side of their faces should we have encountered a blizzard on the streets of Bakewell, and required the immediate sustenance that only a twin pack of custard creams can deliver.
(by the way Jenny, I still haven't forgotten that I want a comment from you.)
posted by Rach at 12:18
2 Comments:
Thank you for my special posting Rach, I hope I have managed to comment successfully!
Lovely to reminisce about our survival pack days, but what you failed to mention was that cousin Stuart also used to carry a sanitary bag around with him - I think our mothers would have laughed slightly more about that!
x
Hurrah! You managed it!
Ah gawd bless Stu and his sanitary bag. I'm surprised he had enough hands what with his donald duck and a loo seat round his neck
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