Has my gallette cherry been popped yet? That’s a very good question. And I shall answer you.
Are you sitting comfortably? Then we shall begin.
Yesterday morning the postie turned up. I ran to the door like an excitable puppy to see if my oatbran delivery had finally arrived.
What did he have for me? Zip. Nada. A Big Fat Zero.
So in a fit of frustration and rage I decided I would phone every single store and health food shop in the whole of Scotland to locate a bag of oatbran. If it took me all day to drive there and back I would do it, so great was my need.
I started off by phoning shops within driveable distance, not expecting much as I had trailed round most of them through the week anyway. But, incredibly, I had forgotten about one health food shop in the next town.
I phoned up, without much hope, and was informed that there had been a mad rush on oatbran for some strange reason (well I wonder why THAT was???!). BUT, they said, they had one, solitary, last bag sitting in the shop, and would I like her to put it aside for me?
Would I????! Can you imagine the ecstasy I experienced when I heard those words? Think of When Harry Met Sally and quadruple that image.
And in an amazing stroke of luck, my teens were at that very moment shopping in that very town! It was meant to be! That gallette was mine for the taking!
So I frantically phoned my daughters and explained that they had to collect the only remaining bag of precious oatbran in the entire country from the health food shop and it had been put aside for them.
I then sat back and allowed a warm glow of contentment and satisfaction envelope me, whilst I leafed through the recipe book at all the wonders that could be had using this miracle product.
An hour or so later, my teen daughters arrived home. I almost trampled my youngest two to death in my haste to get to the door.
‘Where is it?’ I shrieked, ‘Where is my OATBRAN??’
‘Oh, we never got round to getting it. Why don’t you pick it up tomorrow?’ drawled my youngest teen nonchalantly.
I stared in silence for a few minutes, not fully comprehending what she had said. Then the full horror of the situation slowly seeped into my confused brain and I said quietly, ‘Tomorrow? Pick the oatbran up tomorrow?’
You could hear a pin drop.
‘The shop is closed tomorrow AND I NEED MY OATBRAN NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!!’ I screamed in a ferocious crescendo.
By this point I was shrieking so loudly that my two daughters and my hubby, who had come racing through to see who was being murdered, were just standing staring at me, with their mouths flapping and eyes goggling. I was apoplectic, shaking violently and completely out of control.
I’m surprised hubby didn’t have to slap me soundly over the face to snap me out of it. But somehow I regained control, realised I may perhaps have over reacted somewhat and it was possible the oatbran situation had become something of an obsession for me.
So, I have decided to calmly wait for my delivery of oatbran. If it doesn’t arrive I won’t fret – my blood pressure (and traumatised family) can’t cope with any more stress. I’ve done without it this long and surely I can wait until September if I have to, when there will once again be an abundance of oatbran throughout the land.
THE END.