I owe a lot to biscuits - they've cheered me up when I am down, comforted me on a cold winter's day and brought me deep joy when I thought there was no chocolate in the house only to discover a slightly soggy chocolate hob nob in the bottom of the biscuit jar. Huzzah.
But, until I had children, I had no idea of the extent to which biscuits would feature in my life. Now, from dawn to dusk, there is a permanent background noise in my house. It is the word 'biscuit' - buzzing and humming around my ears everywhere I go. The kitchen, sitting room, bedroom, garden, attic - there's no escape: 'biscuit, biscuit, biscuit...' I hear it over and over and over again; biscuit white noise if you will.,
Ten minutes after breakfast - "Mummy, can I have a biscuit. Pleeeeeeeeease. Just one."
Mid morning - "Mummy, I'm hungry, can I have a snack." (snack meaning biscuit)
Pre-lunch - "Mummy, can I have a biscuit while I'm waiting for lunch."
Post-lunch - "Mummeeeeeeeee, can I have a biscuit for pudding."
While I'm on the phone - "Mummy, I'm just getting a biscuit. OK."
and so on and so forth all day until bedtime when we have, somehow, fallen into a bizarre arrangement of 'milk and a bedtime snack'. Yes, you guessed it, snack meaning biscuit. Aaarrrggghhhhhhh. I actually had a dream that I was being chased by a ginormous digestive the other day. It was terrifying.
But how did this 'biscuit mayhem' come about? How did my relentless provision of raisins and apple rings and blueberries to my babbling six-month olds turn into this? What started out as a sensible arrangement of Rich Tea or Fig Rolls for the occasional mid-morning snack, has escalated over the six years of child-rearing to a snack cupboard which is drowning in biscuits. Somehow, in some kind of stealth movement, the biscuits have infiltrated my home and rendered me and my kids powerless to resist their crumbly temptations.
Personally, I blame Aldi. Their biscuits are far too exciting for any three-year-old to ignore, and I now find myself coming back from the weekly shop with what can only be described as an unnecessary amount of biscuits: Disco Biscuits, Custard Creams, Bourbons, Digestives, Shortbread, Malted Milk - a biscuit for every possible eventuality, crammed into the trolley by a small boy while I am deliberating over types of bread.
This biscuit dependency chaos must end. There is virtually no room at all in the cupboard for my gin or tonic and the poor raisins haven't seen the light of day for months.
So, when we've eaten all the biscuits in the house, I'm not getting any more, with maybe one exception of Jaffa Cakes - which are technically not a biscuit, they're a cake. So there.