It was the end of a long, hard week of cleaning. My mind was full of words that I needed to write down. I was eager to leave my day job behind and get back to the world of writing. But first I needed chocolate. Lots of it. I popped into my local shop and scrunitised the shelves with horror. At the rate chocolate prices are going up I'll be needing a second mortage to meet my weekly fix. A small packet of Munchies in my local Spar shop now costs 85p! And please do not get me started on Curly Wurly's - years ago I swear they were a foot long (or is my memory playing tricks?) and now, well, you could swallow them in one bite. Well, I could.
I decided to look into this rising cost and what I found sent shivers up my spine. I don't care about the price of petrol (well, I do but, y'know it's not a life or death thing with me) I'm not that interested in inflation rates or housing prices. BUT when it comes to chocolate. Now that's SERIOUS!
According to the Guardian of November 2010 a single chocolate bar could cost £7!!!!
in fact, it already does -- if you buy posh chocolate. One thing is for sure, 60p bars will soon be a thing of the past.
The problem is the small holders growing cocoa beans get about 80p a day and there's no incentive to plant new crops when the old ones die off. It's time consuming (3-5 years) to grow a new crops. No one wants to wait around, do back-breaking work for minimal reward. It's easier to grown something else like bio-fuel crops. And with a life expectancy of just 56 years no wonder the younger generation are heading off to the city for better jobs. Plus, in some areas like Ghana and the Ivory Coast the soil is now so depleted of nutrients they can't grow anything. Production is seriously being decreased and the day is coming when the only cheap chocolate will be carob! Errww. Have you tasted Carob???
It's hard to inagine a world without chocolate? In anticipation of this earth-shattering outcome. I owe it to myself to eat as much chocolate as possible before it's all gone!
Monday 21 February 2011
Tuesday 15 February 2011
Dreams
Do you dream?
I dream big. Almost every night. Dreams with a beginning, middle and end. Like a movie. Usually I'm crime fighting or I'm in a spy thriller (sad, aren't I???) I wake at 5 a.m with a jolt and say 'wow, that was awesome. I mustn't forget that dream. It's going to make an amazing novel.' I lay in the dark thinking film rights. Oscars. Red carpet. And then I fall back asleep and two hours later wake up and can hardly remember a thing.
The dreams I usually remember quite clearly are the weird ones. For instance, the night before my operation a few years back, I dreamt I was trying to diffuse a bomb with a jar of Branston pickle! (I blame the sleeping tablet they gave me.)
I recently dreamt I was lost in Brooklyn, New York because I'd got on the wrong train. I went into Macdonalds to ask the way and who was there? Mary Portas, ordering a Big Mac (as if!) Mary saw me crying and invited me to stay at her house. Nice Mary.
Then there was the dream about Caleb Followill (please tell me I don't have to explain who he is?) Caleb took me drinking because, apparently, I was depressed. Anyway, I related this dream to my son who said 'funny that. I dreamt he bought me an amp. Nice guy that Caleb, isn't he?'
Then there was the dream about Peter Jackson giving me a part in The Hobbit. I flew to New Zealand to read the script with Elijah Wood.
And the dream about the carpet cleaning that came in jars. You poured the contents all over the carpet and micro organisms ate up the dirt (I should patent that stunningly brilliant idea!)
And what about the night I saved planet earth from alien invasion with a bottle of HP sauce? I made the aliens hamburgers and spread HP sauce on the meat. The aliens had an intolerance to tamarind (it's an ingredient in the sauce. do I have to tell you everything?) and they all died and yaaa! planet earth was saved.
Sounds like YOU should stay off the sauce, I hear you say. Truth is I very rarely drink. My mother used tell me I had an 'over-active imagination.'
My mind has no rest. My nights are way more active -- and exciting -- than ever my days are.
I recently watched the brilliant movie 'Inception' and would love to control my dreams. Perhaps then the day Owen Wilson (sigh) was waiting for me the other side of a bridge, I wouldn't have been waylaid by a person (male) I didn't know who tried to stop me crossing. I would have kicked him in the **** and said 'get out of my ****** way, Owen Wilson's (sigh) over there.' Unfortunately, by the time I made it over the bridge, Owen had given up waiting and gone home(story of my life)
Anyway, folks. I'm tired now. All that saving the planet malarkey I do in the wee small hours takes its toll. Night. Night.
I dream big. Almost every night. Dreams with a beginning, middle and end. Like a movie. Usually I'm crime fighting or I'm in a spy thriller (sad, aren't I???) I wake at 5 a.m with a jolt and say 'wow, that was awesome. I mustn't forget that dream. It's going to make an amazing novel.' I lay in the dark thinking film rights. Oscars. Red carpet. And then I fall back asleep and two hours later wake up and can hardly remember a thing.
The dreams I usually remember quite clearly are the weird ones. For instance, the night before my operation a few years back, I dreamt I was trying to diffuse a bomb with a jar of Branston pickle! (I blame the sleeping tablet they gave me.)
I recently dreamt I was lost in Brooklyn, New York because I'd got on the wrong train. I went into Macdonalds to ask the way and who was there? Mary Portas, ordering a Big Mac (as if!) Mary saw me crying and invited me to stay at her house. Nice Mary.
Then there was the dream about Caleb Followill (please tell me I don't have to explain who he is?) Caleb took me drinking because, apparently, I was depressed. Anyway, I related this dream to my son who said 'funny that. I dreamt he bought me an amp. Nice guy that Caleb, isn't he?'
Then there was the dream about Peter Jackson giving me a part in The Hobbit. I flew to New Zealand to read the script with Elijah Wood.
And the dream about the carpet cleaning that came in jars. You poured the contents all over the carpet and micro organisms ate up the dirt (I should patent that stunningly brilliant idea!)
And what about the night I saved planet earth from alien invasion with a bottle of HP sauce? I made the aliens hamburgers and spread HP sauce on the meat. The aliens had an intolerance to tamarind (it's an ingredient in the sauce. do I have to tell you everything?) and they all died and yaaa! planet earth was saved.
Sounds like YOU should stay off the sauce, I hear you say. Truth is I very rarely drink. My mother used tell me I had an 'over-active imagination.'
My mind has no rest. My nights are way more active -- and exciting -- than ever my days are.
I recently watched the brilliant movie 'Inception' and would love to control my dreams. Perhaps then the day Owen Wilson (sigh) was waiting for me the other side of a bridge, I wouldn't have been waylaid by a person (male) I didn't know who tried to stop me crossing. I would have kicked him in the **** and said 'get out of my ****** way, Owen Wilson's (sigh) over there.' Unfortunately, by the time I made it over the bridge, Owen had given up waiting and gone home(story of my life)
Anyway, folks. I'm tired now. All that saving the planet malarkey I do in the wee small hours takes its toll. Night. Night.
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