Whatever happened to Scrumping?

I was reflecting as I saddled up for my cycle to work today that times have definitely changed. And the reason behind my musings?  Hanging over our wall giving onto the back lane was a clump of delicious looking conference pears which no one has scrumped (yet).  I admit to helping myself to the odd illicit apple from the Brown’s garden during my childhood, although as my brothers and I went to school with their children, I don’t think they minded. Anyway, because no one has taken our fruit, there will be more for us to eat or give away!

Custard Creams!

The combination of wind direction and a baking session at McVitties meant that last night, when I was walking Molly by the river, the air was redolent with the sweet, synthetic but compellingly fragrant aroma of custard cream biscuits. Despite not having eaten one for years, a Pavlovian response was triggered and I desperately wanted to relieve my childhood rituals of eating that iconic, English biscuit. I suspect I was not alone in de-constructing the components, taking off the top layer of the biscuit sandwich, enabling an appropriate savouring of the vanilla cream before nibbling the sweet, crispy biscuits themselves!