I sometimes think how good it must be to be in advertising. I don't necessarily mean chain smoking, adulterous head cases like Don Draper, but more the fruit of labours of advertising types. Whoever came up with the concept of being a Secret Lemonade Drinker must chortle that R Whites continue to use that line when promoting their goods all these years later.
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| Smarties British Candy (Photo credit: fritish) |
As a child I was always taken by the Smarties slogan, 'Only Smarties Have The Answer.' It was never a product that needed clever advertising, after all, how many children aren't going to love brightly coloured chocolate? Looking back now as an adult, I do wonder about the tagline and what it actually means. If Smarties have the answer, what on earth is the question?
Well, I think I may have discovered this yesterday evening. Rather shamefully I grabbed a handful from my son's Christmas stash, and proceeded to eat them. Except karma redressed the balance of me pinching chocolate by causing me to not just chew through the crisp outer coating, but also to thrust my teeth into my tongue, leaving me a bloodied mess. The great Smarties question apparently then goes something along the line of
What is the most ridiculous way to demonstrate to diet blog readers that eating chocolate is bad for you?
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| The single most attractive selfie ever? |
Speaking of teeth, it has been an interesting week for my youngest. Over the last 7 days he has acquired three teeth to offer company to his solitary incisor that pushed through in late October. All mums and dads reading this will know about the side effects of teething, and I hope will be sympathetic to how the past week has been for my household. It has been great fun scrubbing vomit from his clothes night after night. Yesterday I got a face-full of petit filous for my trouble after a pre-bedtime coughing fit. Fortunately we've got through today minus any sickness so hopefully that is the end of the teething for now.
Having felt like a tool for my Smarties exploits, and smelling delightfully of baby puke, I decided I needed to do something positive and so after a 10 day break from running dusted off my trainers. Conscious that my lungs were still not clear of gunk I didn't stray too far from the house. I managed five and a half kilometres in a very respectable 27 minutes and suffered no ill effect. Back to parkrun for me then on Saturday morning and maybe a longer run on Sunday.
After learning my lesson about chocolate, the reward for running was delivered pizza, which from a diet perspective didn't make much sense. However, if I am going to indulge in a takeout once in a while, it may as well be on a day when I've worked for it.
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