My husband recently created a Facebook post in support of my son’s maths development. It asked our FB friends to vote on their favourite biscuits, so Zi could create a tally chart, pictogram and bar chart. We hoped to get about 20 responses so he could create a credible diagram (the home-schooling police might need evidence) so you can imagine our surprise when we got over 50 responses in the first couple hours. (I also spent a bit of time judging people for being on FB during conventional working hours, even though Bruce and I were actively scanning FB for responses while watching a Channel 5 makeover show…because, you know, like loads of people the world over, we don’t work conventional hours.) To date, there are more than 120 comments. 

Anyways, as well as getting ample data to serve Zi’s mathematical efforts, the responses got me all nostalgic. It’s amazing what flour, butter, sugar and eggs can create (not sure biscuits have eggs in them. I’ll Google) – not just the hit, crunch and taste but also the self-soothing satisfaction that comes from dipping your hand in a biscuit tin and knowing that the sugar loaded delight making its way towards your lips is going to make everything feel a’right. 

Unless it’s a Malted Milk. They make me want to cry. I remember being young, maybe 10 or 11, and shopping with my Mum at a place called Shoppers’ Paradise in Bradford. Only it wasn’t. It was a shop for poor people before Aldi and Lidl made budgeting and middle aisles trendy. All their packaging was plain white cardboard and they didn’t bother with fancy taglines or cuddly veg mascots to sell their products. Boxes of cereal simply said ‘Bran’ and the biscuits came in a few basic forms. I remember us getting non-branded Malted Milk type biccies, only they’d always be broken. Already plain, they’d also be half-smashed in the pack. I don’t know if this was a result of the staff tossing our food onto the shelves, cheesed off at their low paid and fragile employ, or the warehouse workers kicking boxes around out back (this is how I imagined them treating our second class food). Or maybe the biscuits just disintegrated on the way home, broken by the weight of their destiny – to be eaten reluctantly by desperate poverty stricken children who would never have chosen them given another choice. They resorted to self-crumbing, rather than suffering the indignity of being dunked in no-name tea topped off with sterilised milk.

I remember leaving home in 1989 and vowing that I would eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. There’s a deeper story here, but for now, let’s stick to the biscuit tale. I bought myself some Hob Nobs! Now, if you don’t already know, Hob Nobs are the cock of biscuit school. Other biscuits wish they could be Hob Nobs. Custard Creams cry when put on the same plate. Rich Teas feel embarrassed, and like I mentioned before, Malted Milks just turn to dust. Hob Nobs are a wonder, carbohydrate perfection. I don’t actually eat them anymore – again, part of another story – but my 17 year old self felt I’d arrived. Hob Nobs were just a few years old at the time, and purchasing a packet of biscuits that I deemed to be expensive, from a proper supermarket no less, I felt like I’d transcended every invisible barrier. Biscuits were a marker of prosperity, self-determination and power – and if a biscuit index existed, I was scaling it. 

I wish I could say I’d put such childish assessments behind me, but I know that when I’m shopping for biscuits (usually in Aldi these days), I do hover a while before choosing and ponder which ones I think I deserve. How strange that I feel this way. But I do. For the removal of ambiguity, I have pretty strong feelings about most biscuits:

1. Bourbons( my current favourite) – strong, reliable, noble. Great in a crisis
2. Short bread – must be eaten in multiples of 3. Legitimate first course. Deserve a blue plaque. 
3. Ginger Nuts – the best crunch on earth. Spicy, edgy, scared of no-one. Probably Glaswegian.
4. Fig Rolls – ambitious, beautiful, mouth-wateringly delicious. Undervalued and misunderstood
5. Custard Creams – the everyman of biscuits – sweet and brilliant for cleansing other flavours
6. Chocolate Digestives – messy and a waste of chocolate
7. Chocolate Hob Nobs – saved by the Hob Nob bit but a waste of chocolate
8. Chocolate Chip Cookies – like Evri, always fail to deliver
9. Rich Tea – sad.  For people anxious about calories and scared of joy
10. Jammy Dodgers – pure sugar. Taste best after taking drugs.

Right, time to go home. Had two mugs of tea while writing this and 4 Golden Crunch Creams. And Zi finished his maths work. For the record, Shortbread won. Rich Tea came last. And way too many of you are still eating Jammy Dodgers. Sort yourselves out.