Yes friends, it’s another grey Friday in London. It’s grey with an even greater chance of grey as the grey rises in the grey. Instead of going on a shin/crotch kicking spree like any other entitled Londoner, I have decided instead to go to my happy place.
It’s true. I am in my happy place. Right now I am about eight-years old and I have just received my first Choco Milo. My mouth is watering. I know it will taste divine, after all nobody lies in adverts. I unwrap the little green cube, noting its silvery insides and the bits of brown powder stuck in the sharpened corners of the wrapper. I wet one finger and and dip it in the powder. Some of it comes off in my hand, the rest stays behind to form a brown spot that looks so chewy, I want to cry. Such a tease, this Choco Milo.
I tip my head back and raise my hand. It’s as if I am in slow motion. I watch the cube tumble. I am not afraid that the corners will cut my throat as there is a pool of saliva waiting to receive it. It falls into my mouth and I close my eyes…
Suddenly the Choco Milo is flying out of my mouth, taking with it a lot of sweet brown saliva.
“WHO GAVE YOU THAT CHOCO MILO?!” It’s my mother. I know I am going to die.
OK, so it’s not my happy place after all. Maybe you can do better? I’d love to get your descriptions of your own happy place; it could be a geographical location, a memory or a fantasy. It could even be a person, if you want. 100 cubes for 100 words. The best one wins these tasty little babies. I’ll name the winner next Friday and I will send this packet ANYWHERE in the world.