A Marmite Epiphany

EARLIER THIS WEEK WAS ONE OF THOSE IRRATIONAL TIMES when for no apparent reason I was struck down by a lot of sighing, random sobbing at Christmas adverts, and obsessive property-porning for million pound houses. In short, I’d morphed in to a total nutcase. But while those close to me were seriously considering sectioning, I was simply going through one of those ‘I just don’t’ phases. It went something like: I just don’t have a mortgage, I just don’t have a car (well I have, but it belonged to my friend’s granddad in 1998), I just don’t have grapefruit spoons – I mean, who doesn’t have a grapefruit spoon? My solution was I’d feel better if I adopted a dog. Now don’t go telling me that a dog is not just for moments of temporary insanity - my dog mania goes waaaaaaay back. I’m the kind of person who’ll swerve my car into a lamppost to oblige a dog who’d rolled over for a tummy rub. Sadly, I’d never really been in the position to get one of my own. Then suddenly, two years ago I jacked in my job, became freelance, moved to a tiny semi-detached with a garden and an apple tree, and through the detection of an inordinate amount of dog hair in the gap between the floor and the skirting boards, discovered that the previous inhabitants not only had a Labrador, but a Jack Russell too. Crikey! For once, ‘one day’ was right spanking now! But then came the spanner in the works in the form of Mr Loves-to-move-the-goal-posts - apparently we had to ‘wait until we had a house of our own’. Presumably, that will be when we can get one of those reasonably priced warden-monitored bungalows for the 65+. Sadly, that’s more than 30 years off, and I WANT IT NOW!

Things were not looking good. I was as mad as a box of frogs, and something had to change immediately or I was going to... ooh Marmite! I love a bit of Marmite, and I’d left the jar on the side in the kitchen. There it was, calling to me: Marmite makes everything better. Marmite makes everything taste better. Marmite... hang on (cue ground-breaking epiphany). Contrary to a pretty solid marketing campaign, it’s just not true that you either ‘Love it or Hate it.’ In fact, there was a time when I detested it to gagging-point - I was a Marmite hater. But, quite fancying the idea of being the kind of person who did love Marmite, I therefore put myself in training. Now, as I new Marmite Lover, I could quite happily eat it Winnie-the-pooh style, hand in jar. By this point I’d polished off a couple of slices of toast and Marmite and quite fancied a jaunt down the road to TK Maxx. I couldn’t go all red-eyed, miserable and make-up-less because everyone knows that is exactly when you bump into old school friends, ex-boyfriends and your dentist, so I decided to give myself a good talking to. If you can learn to love Marmite, I said, you can learn to love the other crap stuff too.  I wasn’t entirely convinced, but off I trotted to TK for a quick browse and - Oh. My. Goodness. There they were! A pair of shiny stainless steel grapefruit spoons for the princely sum of £2.99! I hadn’t felt so light in my heart for at least 72 hours! I took it as a sign and because there’s virtually nothing you can’t buy in TKMaxx, I popped a dog collar in the basket too (just in case).
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