The cupboard is bare

My sandwich tasted naked.

I opened the new bread and for once it was squashy enough to eat fresh rather than toasted.

(Shhhh, don’t tell anyone, but the Thais aren’t very good at baking bread, it not being an important part of their diet… Unless you go to a five star hotel and buy direct from the bakers but then it costs rather a lot.)

Back to the naked sandwich: there’s no Branston Pickle anywhere in Bangkok – I’ve looked. Alright I haven’t looked everywhere… but I’ve checked out a branch of Villa, a Tops, Gourmet in Emporium and Carrefour. None, nada, nilch.

I am very sad.

Don't think too badly of me

I’m devastated. I’ve just had terrible news: it’s over and I can hardly believe it.

It’s so awful I may have to move back to the UK.

I know that betrayal isn’t right, but somehow it was beyond my powers to do the right thing.

It was beyond my control, it was hormonal. It all started when I was pregnant with my daughter. Yes, I know, I’m not trying to make excuses I’m just trying to let you see that it was chemical … too powerful for me to command.

But even after I had the baby, I just couldn’t … quite … give it up. It … was …too wonderful. I ache... my mouth aches with the thought of it.

And I’ve been told – categorically – that he will never be in Thailand again.

No more.

Finished.

I have kept my clandestine relationship with Branston Pickle a covert affair from my father for eleven years. My Dad makes the most delicious chutney. Real chutney: Mrs Postgate’s Tomato Chutney. I was weaned on his chutney and cheese sandwiches, turkey sandwiches on Christmas day, Boxing Day. I took pots of it to University. I was never without it and would leave a weekend in my family home, richer for the jar I took from the pantry.

Until I became pregnant with Daughter … and oh, the shame … I wanted cheese and Branston Pickle sandwiches. NOTHING else would do. It would be okay when I was no longer pregnant, I reasoned, I would revert: my sophisticated palate would return and I would resume my relationship with Mrs Postgate’s Chutney, those delicate flavours of vinegar, cloves, tomato… oh…

But no. Apparently not. I need crunchy Branston Pickle in my life. I had come to accept this: my one ‘can’t live without it’ item in Thailand.

And now I am told, someone has decided that there is no requirement for it in Thailand.

And it will no longer be imported here.

Crosse and Blackwell … what have you done?

I am feeling very, very sad.