While Mum unpegs the washing and thinks
I'm upstairs, I ferret in the pantry -
the Hansel-and-Gretel-house biscuit tin:
I scoff: lemon puffs; a Garibaldi;
bourbons; custard creams; stale, cardboardy
strawberry wafers, tasting of ginger nuts;
two digestives to aid digestion. It's
then that my eyes alight on nirvana:
Whitworth's currants and portly sultanas,
handfuls of which I pack within my cheeks,
a hamster bedding down for winter sleep.
Just for luck, I unpeel a banana.