If you were lucky on Valentine’s day you may have received a bunch of flowers, some chocolate and perhaps even a sonnet or two. But if you were especially lucky, your lover may have cooked you up a few of these hearty delicacies…
Because nothing says I love you quite like Lidl’s finest novelty encased dead birds!
A friend of mine made the ingenious remark that if Lidl had made them with actual chicken hearts it would have made this gesture even more romantic, although given the questionable quality of the shop and its produce, purchasing actual meat product would be perhaps more of a stroke of luck than anything else.
I actually like this product but not in the way that would have led me fill my freezer with them, rather, I’m fond of their delicious irony. Ultimately, they exhibit a juxtaposition between death and love, i.e. although the nuggets were made with the death of chickens and thereby a very unloving process, their carcasses have been used to represent love nonetheless.
In other words, they are heartlessly formed hearts. (That may or may not contain actual heart!)
And thus my English-wishy-washy mind continues to over-analyse, and seek amusement from, even the most secluded of freezer corners.
I am currently savouring happiness like squirrels savour their acorns.
Although they may only be a countable amount of moments when I feel wholly content; the first bite into this euphoria feels, without a doubt, worth all the time, effort and pain that it took to get there.
I’m writing this because I don’t want to forget that I have found myself smiling…
Against even the most lethal odds.
As a British citizen, modesty has become almost a second language to me. Here, if you even find yourself wanting to share the news of your pet squirrel’s second place in a grooming competition, you will be labelled a snob and have your name removed from every scone-party guest list accordingly.
Well, it’s something like that.
This has proven to be a real issue lately as I am taking just another step into adulthood via the creation of my personal statement.
Basically a C.V., the personal statement is every egotist’s paradise as you’re expected to write around 500 words that should somehow convince another human being of your excellence.
This is the time when occasionally walking your grandma’s dog becomes ‘volunteering for the elderly’ and playing a game of cricket for your school when you were 12 becomes ‘having an active role in the school’s sports team’.
But just as I thought I was running out of things to write myself, I just happened to stumble upon this beauty…
… looks like I’ll be bouncing my way to university!