A year ago (ish) I moved into this flat.
A year ago (ish) I went off to Tesco to do a big shop and bought, in what would be a multibuy disaster, sixteen Danone Activia yoghurts. It was 2011. People were buying yoghurts like they were gobstoppers. This was four yoghurts stuck together in your standard 2x2 yoghurt formation and then stacked on another four yoghurts and wrapped up with a bit of cardboard. Eight yoghurts in all, and two of these, these, HERDS of yoghurts for something like four pounds.
So I walked home, thinking I'd be able to get through these sixteen yoghurts in no time. I was wrong. Dead wrong. A week later, I'd two eaten. Two yoghurts. Twelve yoghurts looked back at me from the second from the top shelf in my fridge one Sunday morning. I ate one. I ate two. I could eat no more. I was desperate. Their expiry dates looming, I did what any rational man would do.
I put them in the freezer.
This morning, a year later, I took them out of the freezer, put them back in to the fridge and left for work. Throughout the day the yoghurts thawed, waking up in a brave new world, a world of slightly faster broadband and new x-factor judges. Look, the world isn't all that different to what it was a year ago but if you're a yoghurt it must look f*cking mental. That honey flavoured butter on the door shelf is a crazy in itself.
So, here I am, sitting on my sofa at 6.30 on a Tuesday evening. I'm looking at these yoghurts. Their expiry dates go way back to April 2011. This feels slightly dangerous. Slightly, I'm not mad. I peel back the lid on one. Forest fruit. Not my favourite, but I want to get the duds out of the way so I can enjoy the strawberry ones tomorrow.
I've dipped the spoon in.
And away I go.
A year ago (ish) I went off to Tesco to do a big shop and bought, in what would be a multibuy disaster, sixteen Danone Activia yoghurts. It was 2011. People were buying yoghurts like they were gobstoppers. This was four yoghurts stuck together in your standard 2x2 yoghurt formation and then stacked on another four yoghurts and wrapped up with a bit of cardboard. Eight yoghurts in all, and two of these, these, HERDS of yoghurts for something like four pounds.
So I walked home, thinking I'd be able to get through these sixteen yoghurts in no time. I was wrong. Dead wrong. A week later, I'd two eaten. Two yoghurts. Twelve yoghurts looked back at me from the second from the top shelf in my fridge one Sunday morning. I ate one. I ate two. I could eat no more. I was desperate. Their expiry dates looming, I did what any rational man would do.
I put them in the freezer.
This morning, a year later, I took them out of the freezer, put them back in to the fridge and left for work. Throughout the day the yoghurts thawed, waking up in a brave new world, a world of slightly faster broadband and new x-factor judges. Look, the world isn't all that different to what it was a year ago but if you're a yoghurt it must look f*cking mental. That honey flavoured butter on the door shelf is a crazy in itself.
So, here I am, sitting on my sofa at 6.30 on a Tuesday evening. I'm looking at these yoghurts. Their expiry dates go way back to April 2011. This feels slightly dangerous. Slightly, I'm not mad. I peel back the lid on one. Forest fruit. Not my favourite, but I want to get the duds out of the way so I can enjoy the strawberry ones tomorrow.
I've dipped the spoon in.
And away I go.
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