The other day, in my parents’ house*, I fancied some cereal. Lurking at the back of the pantry was a packet of something that looked vaguely interesting: grape nuts. The name led me to suppose, not unreasonably I think, that said foodstuff had something at least vaguely to do with grapes and/or nuts. Perhaps a couple of raisins thrown in there, or some almonds or hazelnuts or what have you. Hell, it didn’t exactly sound great, but surely it would be at least tolerable.

Not a bit of it. What greeted me instead was pretty much the worst thing I have ever had the misfortune of putting in my mouth. And believe you me people, that is saying something. When I say that it had the taste and texture of a ground-up brick, I am not indulging my taste for a frivolous simile – I mean it totally literally. And when I say I mean it totally literally, I am not using literally in the figurative sense. What I mean is this: it had the taste and texture of a ground-up brick. I may as well have gone out onto the driveway and munched on a load of fucking gravel.

After a couple of mouthfuls (I had more than one just to make sure that the first wasn’t some kind of bizarre aberration) I chucked the rest of the packet in the bin. My dad emailed me later in the day to say, and I quote: “you can’t just unilaterally decide to throw something away just because you happen not to like it.” Humble reader: I wholeheartedly agree. It was only the extreme, unprecedented circumstances that forced me, for the good of my family and everything I hold dear, to do such a thing. Let this be a maxim by which to live: loved ones don’t let loved ones eat grape nuts.

*OK, it’s my house too. I live with my parents. I write for AFB and live with my parents. This isn’t where I hoped my life would lead.

2 thoughts on “GRAPE NUTS

  1. southsidesocialist

    My mum bought us Grape Nuts once when we were kids, in the 70s. They were so awful that after we choked down the first mouthful we flatly refused to eat any more, despite numerous threats and reminders about the starving children in Africa. Knowing my dad, they’re still there. They really are bran-flavoured gravel, and not in a good way.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s