Chocolate flavoured mealworms not as popular as expected

We had some fun yesterday with a selection of bush tucker horrors. Perhaps the highlight was the chocolate covered ants, although the Christmas Pudding flavour mealworms were nearly as unpopular.

We had traveled into the wilds of the south Midlands where the sun does not shine, and marauding locals lurk at every corner. I have some very unfortunate relatives, two brothers and their families, who are bizarre enough to enjoy living on the outer fringes of civilisation. Knowingly the peculiar tastes of those who flirt with mortal danger every day, where food is scarce and road kill can be the difference between life and death (well, death for the unfortunate victims) I felt compelled to fill the car up with provisions to ease their burden.

Excited faces great the mealworms

We had taken the evil-smelling skip, otherwise known as That Nice Lady Decorators 4×4, rather than the sweet-smelling Merc for a number of reasons; it can hold enough fuel for the journey there and back this morning, an important consideration as fuel is never plentiful in the north. It can hold more provisions for distribution to the northern needy, and one is less distressed if the vehicle is attacked by wild animals or thieves, both of which are alarmingly omnipresent this near the Arctic Circle. It smells so much worse that the “wet dog” which is how the Decorating operative describes it; somewhere between rancid polecat and rotting Norwegian beaver cheese (a little one for all you Monty a Python fans). It was therefore a laughable reason why the Sprogs were denied tobacco on the journey up. Anything, even tobacco smoke , would have smelled better than that to which my nostrils will never adapt. Anyway, I digress. We endured two and a half hours of nasal torture whilst heading north towards the land of the wet and dark.

It is always rewarding to see their delighted smiling and awe-struck faces when food and drink is unveiled and do it was yesterday as the goodies were unloaded. However, later, after they had fallen like a pack of wolves upon and devoured much of what we had brought, they discovers those little delicacies to which I have alluded above. It is fair to say that they did not seem as pleased with some of the special festive treats I had secured for them at some expense. Salt and vinegar flavoured crickets for instance. The only insects they get to see this far north are midges (in those few days in summer when the tundra softens and they take to the skies in massive swathes, biting all and sundry), and grubs, the latter of which I know they covert. The chocolate ants were also not as big a hit as I had expected. There is so little gratitude left in the world.

Duty done and family provisioned for another year, we she be heading back towards the civilised south today, unless the next ferocious storm which is forecast today, interferes. Already rain-sodden and flooded, more typical English winter weather looks like making today another unpleasant experience to be endured. The worst part is that it seems unlikely that we shall be able to open the windows to allow that smell to escape and will be subjected to more sceptic septum debilitation in the return journey assuming we make it. Luckily, the equally evil-smelling family dog Banjo also has no nose, and The Reverend Jeff, whose favourite joke this was in our younger days will know the answer to this joke.

In case we don’t make it, I will have one last attempt to to get you all too sign up to Currencies Direct. You know it makes sense.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News