Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Marmite - Love It (or hate it)

Marmite, as the tag line goes, you either love it or hate it.  Well, I bloody love it!!

In fact, I love it so much I have a Saturday morning ritual of a bit of a lay in, while watching Eastenders and having a few slices of Marmite on toast and a cup of tea.  Every. Blooming. Week!!  Heaven.  It’s my one morning of total Englishness.

I rely on family visiting from Blighty to supply me with my Marmite rations.  You can buy it here in the US, but it is extremely expensive and you can’t get the mahoosive jar, only the small ones.  So obviously, when I was back in England last month I found the biggest jar I could to bring back with me.   Yes – 500g of lovely, yeasty goodness.
Who wants the weenie one?  Much too small
That was all very well and good until I started to pack my suitcase to come back.  How do you fit all the clothes your brought with you, the souvenirs you're taking back, 7 Double Decker bars, 10 Curlywurlys, 5 Fudge bars, 12 penguins (not the bird), a packet of Club bars, 2 packs of choccie bickies, Chewits, two six packs of Crisps, a jar of Picallilli, various other food items which you just cannot live without - AND your massive Marmite - in your case.  Well, that was a problem and I made a terrible, terrible (in hindsight) decision to put my Marmite in my carry on luggage.  *sad face*

No sooner had I got to security at Heathrow and put my bag through the scanner thingy than the bells went off.  This huge wailing sound as my case was unceremoniously pushed to one side and I was asked to step around… Oh dear, I’m British you know, please, please don’t single me out, especially in front of strangers.  Oh the horror, oh the embarrassment.  But, that was nothing compared to what happened next.

Oh no, not content to point me out to about 1000 people, (it was probably more like 50, but felt like 1000) I was then made to undo my bag (which was pretty much packed to the gills with more food items) and I had to watch in utter despair as every single item was taken out, held up as if he was showing it to the crowd, and then put back down again.  But then he got to my Marmite.  I saw his face, and knew instantly he was a hater, not a lover.  He held the jar up with a kind of screwed up nose and then let it go, dropping it into a bin – a metal bin, no less – and I still hear that clanging sound as it hit the bottom and rolled around a bit.  He even made eye contact with me as he was doing it - the bugger!!  My heart dropped and I worried all the way back to America that someone was going to take it out of the bin and take it home!  How very dare they.
But then there's this:

Ha, so there M. airport security man, you didn't get all my Marmite goodies.  My yummy crisps were still in (bascially) one piece by the time I got home!  And you can bet I will enjoy every crumb!

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