Am I the only one to have noticed how small the favourite chocolate bars have become?
With the gorging season just ahead, the chances are that a well intentioned hostess is going to thrust a seasonal treat of some kind under your nose, sooner or later. It is unrealistic to think you might avoid this unnerving custom and your best defence is acquiescence. There are a small number of masochists, who will valiantly try to dodge being stuffed to the gills by various half cut, tray wielding domestic demonesses, but in the end, no form of evasive self preservation, will save you from these women and a graciously accepted hillock of pastry is easier in the long run. However, having an over-analytical mind myself, I do tend to run through the Christmas menu with a fine tooth comb every year, and it has been my considered opinion that all forms of chocolate are suffering a kind of Gulliver syndrome. Now take the traditional Quality Street or Roses tin of chocolates; here we had in the past, what amounted to a gargantuan task; getting through this titanic stack of chocolate by Ne
