I Eat Jammie Dodgers

I am wondering whether I will eat another jammie dodger.  I've eaten three so far and just poured myself a gin and tonic.

As a child, I was allowed two biscuits a day after school, with a cup of tea.  Mum would buy malted milk and ginger nuts in turn.  We called malted milk 'cow biscuits' and I used to eat the patterned edge first, leaving the cows grazing in the middle till the end. If the ginger nuts ended up in the tin at the same time as the malted milks, everything tasted of ginger.

When I went through my chubby stage, Mum substituted a satsuma or an apple for the biscuits.  It felt like a sacrifice but I'm not sure it made any difference.

A woman from church, Auntie Margaret, bought jaffa cakes whenever she invited us for tea.  The meal she served was always the same: veal and ham pie, tinned potatoes, tinned carrots, jelly made with evaporated milk - then the jaffa cakes.  Once, the tea turned out to be her birthday tea, and I asked her if she was 21.  It took years for me to realise why she laughed and seemed so pleased.

There was a quiet story that went around that Auntie Margaret's fiance was killed in the second world war. I think that's why my brothers and I were often lent to her for trips out.  It was a good idea in theory, but no one ever asked us if we wanted to go.

There are eight jammie dodgers in a packet, and I've never been taught any specific rules about gin.