When I tell people that I couldn’t eat sugar for FOUR YEARS they sort of say ‘oh, that’s a bit shit,’ but on the whole they tend not to grasp how life-dampeningly sad it was. Seriously – imagine it now – you go to your friend’s house and she offers you a slice of home made Victoria sponge. Oh, no thanks.
It’s Christmas and everyone is giving you mulled wine and mince pies and yule logs and Christmas cakes and spiced ginger cake and . . no, I can’t. Sorry.
You go to Penguin, to celebrate the fact that they’ve just signed you up as an author – Penguin, the greatest publishers on earth – and when they take you into a room they’ve kitted out with champagne and cup cakes to celebrate, you have to ask for a cup of fucking water and you nibble on the apple you brought with you to help dull the agony of not being able to eat whatever yummy snacks they’ve laid on.
‘I’ve got this blood sugar thing,’ you mutter pathetically. Just like you do when your Argentinian friend in Buenos Aires has baked you his first ever birthday cake, or The Man’s mum, who you’re meeting for the first time, proudly presents a beautiful dessert she’s slaved over for the last few hours.
No! No no no! Never again! I am not eating cake every day, cos that would be mad and I’d be running to the bog with a Code Brown at least three times per day, but to be able to say ‘yes please!’ from time to time is the best thing ever.
And the joy I felt when The Man served up a rhubarb and ginger crumble yesterday, with creamy vanilla custard, all steaming and sweet and crunchy and BEAUTIFUL, was so intense that I had to fight very hard not to do a cry in front of my brother and sister in law.
Yum. Life is good. Tell me about your favourite puddings! I’ve only been able to eat sugar for a couple of months so I still have so many more to try. YESSSSSS!