Best of British No. 2: The Pink Wafer Biscuit

No silly poems this time. Sorry.

No picture, either. For those of you who don't know what a pink wafer biscuit looks like (i.e. the French contingent, mainly- ze boy, zis means YOU), Google image search produces a quite respectable number of results.

When I was even smaller than I am now (yes, that IS possible) and went to toddler group, half way through the morning there was drink-and-a-biscuit o'clock. I'm thinking of reinstating it, actually- how much more fun would life be if there was a drink-and-a-biscuit o'clock sometime between ten and eleven? Anyway. Yes. When I was smaller than I am now, I really, really loved pink wafer biscuits. At toddlers, I would eschew the chocolate biscuits in favour of THE PINK ONE. It wasn't even that I liked the colour- I was more inclined towards plastic dinosaurs than barbies- but there was just something about them.

Last Sunday, at drink-and-a-biscuit o'clock (after church, where there is a far bigger selecction of biscuits than at home) I had a pink wafer biscuit for the first time in years. I expected great things.

I was sorely disappointed. You can't really dunk them, which is to be expected, but they taste like cardboard with sugar and food colouring. That would explain why even the Irish shop in Grenoble, which even sells fig rolls (FIG ROLLS, for heaven's sake!) doesn't sell them. Why did I waste so many drink-and-a-biscuit o'clocks on them? WHY?