It can’t be a ... without ....

Last week my daughter sent me a picture of a packet of Tunnocks Teacakes (other brands might be available but they are not relevant to this story) and asked if I could guess her plans. It was obvious.
In our house, it’s not a picnic without Tunnocks Teacakes. Why and how this happened is a mystery because although these chocolate coated marshmallows on a biscuit base are delicious they do tend to melt or get squashed.

I think this is like the NLP technique of anchoring, where you train your brain to associate an internal response with an external trigger. I trained my children to see those particular treats and think, “Picnic.”

My sister and I have been throwing all our efforts into organising the best party ever. We decided we didn’t like the term wake and the vicar’s suggestion of calling it ‘refreshments’ sounded too tame for our fun loving friends and family. “Why don’t you invite everyone back for one last party?” Mum’s neighbour suggested. We were hooked. My parents always threw the best parties. We have been shopping, gardening, cleaning, decorating the garden with fairy lights and my homemade knitted bunting. Obviously, this is all a brilliant distraction technique from thinking about The Great Elephant Wars of 2018 but as we are not mentioning the war this is a good thing. Before we had this distraction we were sitting in coffee shops making conversation with pensioners about mobility scooters and their 84 year old boyfriend. (Margaret we love you).

Yesterday, I wrote a blog about our trip to Costco and after my sister messaged me to say that we didn’t get a tent and that we forgot Twiglets (again, other brands might be available etc). I was relieved. I had been thinking that we needed those delicious marmity knobbly snacks because it’s not a party without Twiglets but my brain had the following internal dialogue:
“There aren’t any Twiglets in Costco. What are we going to do without Twiglets?”
“Well, there wouldn’t be, would there Stupid? Because giants don’t eat Twiglets.”
“That’s ok then we can get them from Tesco.”
“So, it’s all about you is it?”
“No it’s just not a party without Twiglets.”
“Says you! Don’t say anything!”
“Ok. You’re right.”

After we came clean about our mutual need for Twiglets (it is possible to obsess over the strangest things when you are not mentioning the war) the offers to bring Twiglets flooded in. We had already brought enough to last until Christmas so no one needs to bring them.

While we were shopping, I bought a couple of packets of polo mints (again, other brands... etc) because it’s not a funeral without Polos. It does have to be a Polo. This is for the times you are waiting. Sitting in the church on the hard pews, getting to the cemetery, travelling back to the house are all waiting times where you could need a distraction. My mum would fill these moments with a Polo sucking competition. Everyone pops a mint in at the same time, sticking tongues out at regular intervals to see who can keep the perfect  circle of mintiness for the longest. I did only get enough for us, so, if you are coming to the funeral, you might want to bring your own packet.