“It was good when the internet came back on.”
“Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that. It just came back on. That was great.”
He had asked, What makes you happy? Then rephrased the question – Can you remember a time when you were happy? There had been a pause, and he thought he might have to rephrase the question again (Have you ever been happy? or, What do you think happiness is?). Then they remembered the internet.
“But we never found out why it stopped working in the first place.”
“It just stopped connecting.”
“And we couldn’t go online to find out what to do next.”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“Oh, it’s just. It was just quite funny the way it started working again.”
You just had to be there. Well, at least that was something. They were going to be fine now.
“We were getting quite panicky. I mean, you don’t know when it’s going to come back do you.”
“We turned the router off and back on again, didn’t we? Three times.”
“But nothing happened. Until… you know.”
It just did. They started to recall other happy times, getting the hang of it now they had an example of the kind of thing that might count as happiness. And he watched them as they became competitively happy again, working as a team to fire example happiness after example happiness at this bozo with all his questions about happiness, as if this were a game of squash.
Digestive Press is a blog whose fate has always been intertwined with that of the humble biscuit – it’s in the name, it’s in the header and, back at the beginning, I was even in the habit of posting ‘biscuit journalism’. These posts remain, a little depressingly, amongst my most read. WordPress advises me to, “consider writing about those topics again.”
I had no particular plans to follow their suggestion until this week when it came to my attention that there was a new biscuit on the market. This new biscuit was of course the Mint Choc Flavour Crunch Cream, a new addition to the Crunch Cream stable and what appears to be a close cousin of the Minteorite (my own prototype attempt to fill a gap in the market, another project that coincided with the early days of the blog).
So, after waiting so long for a biscuit like this, what is the verdict? Well, what we have here is a very tasty biscuit, you could call it a predictably tasty biscuit given the commendable consistency of the Crunch Cream. I would say it is just about minty enough – neither too weak (like the recent tepid ‘mint’ KitKat) nor too overpowering (like a mint imperial (where the overpowering is the point).
Given the tried-and-tested texture of the Crunch Cream (honestly, they’re not paying me to write this), it seems that it has been relatively simple for them to inject a little mintiness, which makes one wonder why they haven’t done this sooner, and why even now these are only ‘limited edition’ (does this mean, they’re going to stop making them, unless we buy LOTS of packets? Are they basically holding us to ransom?)
I don’t really have much more to write here – I seem to have discovered there’s only so many words you can spend describing a biscuit. Still, WordPress might be pleased I took them up on their advice, and it was fun to return to the blog’s biscuitty roots, however briefly.
You had canned laughter in your hair.
It accompanied everything you said,
drowning out the ends of your sentences,
your sentence ends.
I had had my sentence ends trimmed, tidied up so as
to cut down on my talking, which I told myself was
getting out of hand, and now I never got to the end of
sentences and no one understood what I was trying
I made phone calls and they came out garbled.
But I knew these were victorious conversations –
uselessly stupid, stupidly fruitless, fruitlessly weird,
weirdly important, dreams with dreamt-up punchlines,
mostly but not entirely jokeless.
Your hair laughed whenever you moved in your sleep,
soundtracking memories accumulated during the day –
our comedy situations that were awkwardly disastrous,
disastrously awkward, awkwardly disastrous,
disastrously awkward, ad infinitum, infinitumly added.