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Ginger Nut Review
I have long been a keen dunker of McVities Ginger Nuts, so much so that as a child I was known throughout our village as the Ginger Nut Kid and I don't even have ginger hair. For many years now my breakfast has consisted of a mug of tea, four Ginger Nuts and a fag, four months ago I managed to kick the smoking habit and as a reward I now have an extra Ginger Nut for my breakfast and feel much healthier for it.
I have just purchased your book from amazon.co.uk as a present for my partner who is expecting our third child soon and hope it will inspire her to put her feet up a bit more often as I feel she is doing too much.
Good luck with your publication and keep up the good work.
|Nicey replies: Well done on the not smoking thing, stick with it and good luck with your new member of staff.
Years ago when I gave up smoking after leaving University I turned to my childhood pastime of Origami, as a substitute. It worked very well and kept mind and hands occupied. Of course I then wound up hopelessly addicted to paper folding. I used to start climbing the walls when ever I was in one those social situation like drinks down the pub unless I got my hands on a bit of paper. Anything would do, an old shopping receipt, biscuit wrapper, or best of all leaflets. A small Origami dog, was about the same as a Silk Cut where as something complicated like a Kangaroo was worth two Rothmans, or three B&H. A really heavy night would be 3 or 4 dogs a couple of kangaroos and maybe robin.
I've managed to get the paper-folding under control now, but still indulge from time to time say after a big meal or on holiday.
||Hi again Nicey etc.,|
Just put another cuppa on and saw the tea money. By gran (the pink wafer one) from Falkland in Fife, Scotland, has always told us about the money in tea. She'll say 'oooohhhh thanks Tamara, you've stirred me up some money" (remember to do this with an east coast scottish accent with 30 years of Australian thrown in...)
What a nice web site you've done there. As I live in Paris it offers a welcome glimpse of bakelite and allotments, the smell of new Beanos in the paper shop, and everything else that make Great Britain possibly the most Great British of places on the face of the planet.
I have a confession, and I would gratefully appreciate your respecting my anonimity, a request you'll understand given the perverse nature of my sin.
I like eating digestive biscuits with a bit of sharp cheddar cheese. Nothing wrong with that, you say? How about *chocolate* digestives? Both milk and plain? I have to make sure there's no-one else in the house when I do this, as it disgusts and saddens my family.
I would find it of great comfort if there were others who, if not sharing my prediliction, could at least extend some sympathy along with the tea? God made me what I am.
Thank you for letting me get this off my chest. I feel better already.
|Nicey replies: Tim,
Yours is a recognised condition which is why we have the cheese icon.
|A work colleague advised me to eat McVities Digestives with crunchy peanut butter. Has to be McVities has to be Sunpat, but most importantly has to be crunchy peanut butter.|
I used to weight 8 stone, but given my regular need of this biscuit fix I'm not any longer. Should I sue, or wire my jaw closed?
|Nicey replies: Unless you want to be discovered deceased sitting on your kahzie you probably want to moderate your intake, if not try deep frying them in batter.
|Andrew and Nicky Morgan
You can imagine the dreadful fright the wife and I got last weekend when an Avon & Somerset Police envelope plopped through our letterbox onto the mat. Having already banged-to-rights by an undercover speed-detector van I thought 'Oh! Here we go again! The wife has been pushing the Volvo about 40 again!'.
So You can imagine the further dreadful fright I got when I spotted the vehicle in question was my own faithful Citroen Berlingo (Hey! What's that? It's a car - no, it's an MPV etc etc). 'Gnnn' was my first reaction and I felt a twinge in the wallet. But reading on it turned out that Plod was merely sending me a friendly warning.
'It was noticed that you had a toolbox on display in your vehicle' the letter said. 'What? Never!' I said. I don't have a toolbox. In the back of my Berlingo is a portable table, 2 folding chairs, a kettle, a box of Taylor's of Harrowgate Gold Blend tea bags and a tupperware cake storage box.
It was then that the full horror came to bear.
Plod was referring to my 'makings' - my portable gas stove! Tucked snugly away in its black storage box the average thug would have mistaken it for a drill or lathe or other such heavy industrial equipment.
You can imagine the feeling of relief that swept over us. We certainly got off lightly there! Considering my car is always left open and the fact that we leave various goodies around to avoid stealing our kettle. The yobbos can take my cd stereo, the son's Gameboy, our Bush In-car DVD player or my digital camera. But heaven forbid anybody should ever steal the makings.
How we laughed!
Andrew & Nicky Morgan