December evenings
It's 530 but feels later. Misty. Like fireworks night is supposed to be. Sort of frosty mist - great for eating potatoes baked around a bonfire in tinfoil and being warm on one side (hot face) and freezing on the back. Someone came back from a trip to America and brought mini hershie bars (not sure of the spelling, is it 'y', 'ey', dunno) and bitesized peanut butter cups. Blast from the past. Nanny used to send us parcels with these and hershies kisses and red hot gum. Quite unlike anything we had here at the time. I remember these space fillers more than the actual gifts - I think there were nighties with yolks and high necks made of highly electrostatic material or t-shirts for the Oklahoma 49ers. The parcel always came a bit before Christmas and we would open when it arrived rather than waiting. Treat.
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4 comments:
But do you like Hersheys? (It's a y). Most folk I've met on this side of the ocean think the chocolate of Mr. Hershey tastes of soap. I like Mr. Hershey; he was nice to orphans. And the streetlamps in Hershey, Pennsylvania are capped with large kiss-covered tops. x
I like hersheys - but it's a different flavour to our chocolate.
Hershey chocolates are okay. They don't pretend to be fancy, unlike Godiva chocolates with their faux handmade European image (they're made in a large factory in Pennsylvania).
I never knew that! I thought they were european.
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