The candyman can
IT’S THE early nineties. The Shake ‘n’ Vac ad is on television, the fridge is filled with cans of Cherry Coke and cheap strawberry mousses, Boyz 11 Men are crooning ‘End of the Road’ on the radio, and I’m coveting my 12-year-old best friends multi-coloured Oilily leggings with a matching waist-coat. We stand outside the local garage, wedging Milky Teeth under our upper lips and crunching the green, orange and red bits off a Traffic Light Lollipop.
Klipso bars were great value. Even with the green-and-white stripy paper wrapper and cheap chocolate. But for 10p, the hard toffee underneath lasted forever, moulding itself to the roof of the mouth long after the chocolate coating was scraped off with childish front teeth. Desperate Dan bars were stretched out in front of the body in long saliva-covered ribbons, and everyone loved the red fizzy cola lollipops that had secret numbers under the wrappers — a number 7 generated a return trip to the shop and a free lolly.
