“Would you like a Jelly Baby?”

I’m back in the UK, and have been for about two and a half weeks, traveling around and generally seeing the sights with Michelle, which has been an absolute delight. Together we’ve seen much of London, a lot of Bath, the best bits of Liverpool and, so far, a bit of Edinburgh. It’s been fantastic and I couldn’t ask for a better travel companion, but there is one disappointment that has surfaced as a result of this trip.

I have discovered (or, perhaps more accurately, re-discovered) that I am allergic to Jelly Babies.

It’s quite devastating. I’ve always been drawn to them. They’re quite possibly the single finest sweet the UK has to offer, and so when I see them I invariably end up buying a bag and deciding that I’m going to make it last a few days. Then, within an hour, I’m staring at an empty bag thinking to myself, “Ah well, maybe next time.”

Then I start to feel quite Sick.

Now, you could look at that scenario and say, “But Ben! You’ve just eaten an entire bloody bag of Jelly Babies. Of course you feel sick.” Allow me to expound on Sick. Sick is not just an upset stomach. Sick is not just a sleepless night. Sick is three, maybe four days of inconsistent stomach cramps, a sore throat and, depending on the weather, the occasional headache. Let me try to quantify the feeling for you. Imagine that, just before you go to bed, you discover that your stomach has been removed and replaced by a haggis, your throat feels like it’s played host to a horny hedgehog and his cheesegrater lover, and your head feels like it’s been closed for necessary repair works by loud, heavy, annoying repairmen who have been itching to try out their new jackhammer.

It’s quite unpleasant, and I go through it every time I have a bag of Jelly Babies (or more than one pack of Rowntree’s Fruit Bastilles, which leads me to believe that maybe it’s an allergy to gelatin). And yet somehow I manage to forget this every time I see a bag of Jelly Babies, up until the point where I’m doubled over on the bed clutching my stomach and groaning like a very talkative caveman with a lot to share.

Oh well. It’s worth it.