I’ve got that virus that comes back with a vengeance . Several of the older members of the hospice have it and this morning we were comparing health notes like old ladies do at a bus stop.
If you are a singleton and poorly, you only have your dogs to lick your feet better. Ok Diane the support worker I worked with last night, who has a heart the size of a fridge, gave me her curry supper to eat as well as furnishing me with copious amounts of sweet tea, but generally kid , you’re on your own.
Hence the lucozade.
Now when I was a child, Lucozade was classed as a medical drink. A gloriously golden sweet fizzy drink wrapped up in yellow selophane, that could only be bought at the chemists.
It was expensive
It was wonderful and it was a treat.
Your mother really loved you when she bought you a bottle, and you had to drink it quick sticks before anyone well got there nasty little mits on it.
It was the ambrosia of the 1970s
So I bought myself a bottle today
From Tescos
There was a whole section filled with lucozade
Lucozade light, lucozade sport, lucozade high energy
All in common plastic bottles
No cellophane
No tradition.
I bought a bottle of lucozade original
And drank it in the car park
I could have wept
Ok I got a sense of the real taste of childhood
But the drink was just a fizz
A shadow of its former self
And no panacea to a snotty, painful head.





