213. Crunchy Nut Cornflakes

When I was 11, I was allowed to visit Auntie by myself. I was put on the coach at Victoria and when the door opened in Norwich there she'd be, beaming, arms wide. A couple of years later I graduated to the train - and there she was on the platform, beaming, arms wide. We'd get in her little car and go back to the cottage to see Percy the cat and all the Dorises (all her hens were called Doris. Saves time.) We'd go for walks, eat delicious food, and go to the pub with her naughty friends. Need I add that these trips were pretty much the thing I loved most in all the world? Didn't think so...

Having once expressed a preference, every time I visited Auntie would have bought a box of Kellogg's Crunchy Nut Cornflakes, just for me. Always. Without fail.

She paid for me to have my ears pierced, against the strictest maternal prohibition ever issued. She gave excellent advice on a range of issues and told funny jokes I could never remember. She read books, drank red wine, let me stay up late. She helped me pass my driving test.

Over all the years of my life, through teenage years and tragedy, through university and first jobs, and through all of her own trials and tribulations she has been there, with a box of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes somewhere nearby.

Aunts like this should be government issue; everyone should have one. And, greedy girl that I am, I have two. And no, I won't share. I still love Crunchy Nut Cornflakes, though, so you can have some of those, if you like...