The Magnum Ritual

Fear not good people this is not a reference to Tom Selleck and his magnificently furred top lip but a paean to that king of stick-mounted ice cream otherwise known as the Magnum.

Since the sun started beating down on the UK like a blast furnace it has become a daily habit of mine to abscond from the office sometime after lunch and hotfoot it round the corner to the nearest newsagent there to rifle through the ice encrusted glories that are kept well stocked within the grubby looking chest freezer in the corner.

The lady who owns the shop – a pleasant Asian woman who is inevitably talking very loudly to a family member on her mobile when it comes time to serve me – runs a mighty fine line in Magnums.

She must have every variety known to man – the classic, the double choc, the caramel and my personal favourite, the Ecuador. Not quite sure why it’s called the Ecuador as I’ve never ever found a line of coke in it... But anyway, simply put, the Ecuador is pure white vanilla ice cream surrounded very licentiously by thick plain chocolate and is a veritable delight unto the tongue.

And they’re a whopping £1.40 a go.

Now it’s hardly a heinous financial crime but I really can’t afford to be spending that amount of money every day on chocolate frippery. I need to be saving my money. Shoving it into a post office account or an ISA in preparation for the long dark slog through the recession ahead. But I just can’t stop myself.

I’m addicted.

My Magnum is the only thing getting me through the terminally dull afternoons at work. They’re practically medicinal. I ought to have them on prescription. I can’t not have one.

And yet I feel like I’m taking food off the table that is meant for my wife and kids. I’m denying them £1.40 a day in bread or milk or bacon or some other staple food. After I’ve finished my Magnum I can see their small emaciated fingers pointing to their wide open mouths crying we’re starving, we’re starving...!

Sigh. My Magnum addiction is evil. It’s selfish. It’s ego-centric. And I’m just off to buy another one.

Would you like me to get you anything while I’m there?

Off The Cuff

I’m in a buoyant mood this afternoon.

Maybe it’s because I have the day off tomorrow.

Maybe it’s because the sun is shining and myself and my work colleagues spent an extended lunchbreak in the park eating ice cream – Flake 99’s no less – and pretended we were school kids once more bunking off for the afternoon. Though they (the Flake 99’s) cost considerably more than when I was a boy.

Or maybe it’s because I’ve managed some decent quality time on my novel this week (yes that old chestnut... I’m still writing it). A grand total of 125,262 words and still growing. I’m entering the final phase of the story now. The final third. It’s becoming something of a beast. Something I have to wrestle with and force to assume the submissive position beneath me each time I work on it. Who’s the daddy, eh? Who’s the daddy?

Er. Not sure if that analogy is entirely apposite. I mean, what I do with my Friday evenings is my business, right...? Ahem.

Or maybe it’s because I’ve booked a week off the end of May so that Mrs Bloggertropolis and I and our burgeoning little dynasty can head off into the glorious hills of Wales and partake of some much needed R&R time while the rest of the crazy rat-race we call life goes on without us.

Who knows?

Let’s just let the good times roll.