Arctic roll

In the latest in a string of middle class indignities that my poor, unloved and under appreciated children have had to endure, they confessed to me today that they have never had an Arctic Roll.

I know. It’s a wonder Child Services haven’t been called*.

It was picked up on the hoof from the after-school-club run, both of them are coughing and spluttering and I was out of the magical elixir that is Calpol, but fortunately the local Spar was exceptionally well-stocked.

Having had the Arctic Roll after their tea, the children were polite in their appreciation of it, but I think distinctly underwhelmed. As was I - particularly that it had split.

Perhaps this is one of those things from ones childhood that is better left there? 


*Or maybe they should be called for giving the children an Arctic Roll?