publicgriefjunkie 

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Margarine Dreams

Dear Rachel

Whenever I think of supermarkets, I think of slow people with fat arms putting huge bags of crisps into trolleys, and I therefore avoid going into them whenever possible.   This means that until last Wednesday I had no idea that you can't buy margarine anymore.   This in turn means that an austere speciality of my old dear's and feature of my childhood - dry Weetabix with margarine on top - can sadly no longer be prepared.   It's difficult to spread margarine on dry Weetabix, as they are fragile and break easily, with the result that the recipient of such bounty is often left sitting in front of Blue Peter with a joyless bowl of wheat dust and hydrogenated fat.   As I write this, it's just come to mind that I also ate dripping as a child, which is revolting.   If you've never eaten dripping, think of things that drip, and then think about how hungry they make you feel.   It isn't even an appetising word.   How my arteries survived adolescence continues to baffle the medical community.

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