Squirty cream

I’ve been writing at home all morning so I decide to take a break.

I drive to the shops to buy some food for dinner and grab a coffee and cake.

I don’t remember ever being in this coffee shop before but my phone already knows the wifi and the password.

This means either I have been here before or my phone has been off having adventures with somebody else behind my back. The bastard.

The barista asks me if I want my coffee in a cup or a glass.

To me this is like asking if I’d rather have my coffee in a cup or a hollowed-out rhinoceros horn.

‘A cup,’ I reply.

Then she asks me if I want cream with my cake.

Well you have to have a bit of cream.

I’m half horrified and half delighted when she produces a bottle of squirty cream.

I didn’t realise this even still existed, assuming it had been banned back in the 80s alongside 4 star petrol and corporal punishment.

My mind races to a different time. A different age. Squirty cream. Angel Delight. Dream Topping. Cremola Foam. Fray Bentos pies. Supernoodles…..

I sit down, eager to reacquaint myself with the squirty cream. I have to be fast because it’s already starting to lose its shape and form. Becoming a thin white water.

But there’s a problem. The cream is in a black tub which is tiny. The spoon they’ve given me doesn’t fit into it.

I could try pouring it but the squirty cream is melting so quickly that I fear it will just slide straight off the edge of the plate onto my feet.

This only leaves the option of me licking the cream out of the little tub like some half-starved feral cat.

And I’m obviously not going to do that in a public place.

No, definitely not.

Not a chance.


I start to lick the cream out of the tub like some half-starved feral cat.

It tastes of…..nothing at all. Ah, happy memories.

I’m almost finished when I spot two smartly dressed women, professionals presumably, staring at me.

I seem to freeze there with my tongue flapping like a teddy bear’s ear.

The sound system is playing Stand By Me by Ben E King.

I give a half-hearted smile. The women look away.

Yes, sometimes it’s good to take a break. Get away from the blog.

Remind myself that there’s a world out there.

A world full of people. And I’m just like them.

Well, almost.

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