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I was in a chemist today and saw a packet of Victory Vs and wanted to relive my childhood so I bought them. As I ate them I was reminded of buying them in white paper bags at the Tweentown sweetshop 35 to 40 years ago and thought I’d write a blog about it. But I had a vague feeling I might already have written a blog about it.
And I had. So maybe I should write a blog about the evocative way that Victory Vs just about reminded me of eating Victory Vs ten years ago.
But remembering a time when shops sold loose sweets in 2oz portions (and I know some still do, but this was the norm rather than the exception back then) and even just being able to recall stuff that happened four decades ago makes me feel ancient. Like an artefact from history, rather than a living breathing man. I might as well have been riding a Penny Farthing whilst wearing a top hat.
In the 1970s when I first got high from eating too many Victory Vs there would have been people still alive who could remember what it was to buy sweets in the reign of Queen Victoria. But none of them are left now, except possibly Nabi Tajima of Japan who has been the world’s oldest person for almost a week now, but you mark my words, I bet she only gets one more week at the top. Nabi is the only person left born during the reign of Queen Victoria. But did she buy sweets in the 5 months that she and Vicky both breathed the Earth’s air? And would she still be able to recall it now if she had. No.
Soon those of us who remember buying 2 oz of Victory Vs in a sweet shop like some kind of urchin might will be thin on the ground too. The older you get the closer the past becomes.
I had a lovely morning with my daughter, going to a countryside Little Gym (very similar to a London one, though less international - though still a bit international). Phoebe was cheeky and friendly and only got shy when she had to say her name and only threw a strop when another kid she’d been sharing toys with wanted to play with the one toy she saw as hers. We then went to a cafe and I bought her a gingerbread man, which she consumed with glee. I loved gingerbread men when I was a child (and also now) and it was great to see the same look of exquisite joy on her face as she ate it. “Who gave you that gingerbread man?†I asked, trying to make her appreciate what a brilliant dad I was (by actually being a terrible dad, but she doesn’t need to know that). “The lady,†she said, referring to the woman behind the counter. “No, but I bought it for you.â€
“No, the lady.â€
I can never win.
She’s a lot of fun though. We popped into the supermarket and she not only insisted on holding the basket (slash dragging it along the floor) but also said we had to buy broccoli. Which is not very typical for a 31 month old. She is very confident that she can do anything. Even when she can’t. But to be fair to her, she got that basket right round the shop and did a pretty good job of scanning the items too.
She fell asleep in the car on the drive home and I carried her all limp and snuggling into me, into the house. I loved being carried from the car into the house by my dad. When I was 28 years old. It was cool to be on the other side of it.
And she’s ready as she’ll ever be for her little brother. She felt him moving around inside her mum today. She took it in her stride. I still find that as freaky as Hell. He’s nearly ready to come out into this horrible world though. I think Phoebe might be more prepared for it than I am.
And I forgot to say yesterday that the RHLSTP with Limmy is now up on video
It's not yet up on audio because producer Ben is busy doing a proper job and has forgotten to do it. He is worse than Hitler, but if you put a picture of him on an app no one would bat an eyelid.
Started to get some names in for the new RHLSTP - will send the monthly badgers the first few confirmed ones on Friday. If you feel like taking a punt then
buy your tickets here.
