FIZZY TIME MACHINES

I had a can of Fanta today. First time in ages.

Wait, that makes me sound like some sort of addict, a ‘Fantasist’, perhaps, who recently kicked the habit, and then promptly fell off the Fanta wagon. That’s not what I’m saying.

What I am saying is that I haven’t had a can of Fanta for a long time - possibly decades. I know because as soon as I tasted it today, it transported me back through time and made me feel very young. I was just about ready to nip round the park on my green BMX and try the scary jump over the leaf-dip.

How do tastes and smells do this? It happened before - when I tasted Somerfield lemonade at some party or other, and was suddenly whisked back to our old camp in Cornwall (which was next to a Somerfield). If it’s not fizzy pop it’s my grandma’s old gravy powder, or the detergent they used to clean the halls at university. It’s Brasso, or lavender, or Lynx Africa, or one of those little trees that hangs from someone’s rear-view mirror - though I confess I’ve not munched one of those, or downed a pint of deodorant - I mean the aroma, obviously. How do these fizzy little time machines work, I wonder?

Anyway, I don’t know quite why I picked a can of Fanta today. It was that or Coca-Cola, and I just thought I needed something fruity rather than syrupy. To be honest, I should have gone for water - there’s no doubt I don’t drink enough of that! But Fanta appealed and so Fanta it was.

It might have been a reaction to my day. For some reason it was super-stressy. And by that I mean that for some reason, I was super-stressed.

“Do you know why?” asked Erica when I mentioned it.

“I’m still trying to analyse it,” I said as softly as I could. I don’t trust myself to emphasise or raise my voice when my heart is pounding and my chest feels like it’s about to collapse inwards unless I clutch my hair with my fingernails. I have the habit of increasing the stress levels of those around me when that happens.

It occurred to me that I might just have been... annoyed. I’d planned a demo, and then at the last minute I’d realised that the work I’d done was nowhere near ready. I had to cancel the meeting with one minute to go. That felt a bit embarrassing. In fact, it felt like I was tumbling into a rabbit hole, and from there, it was difficult to get back up. I took a break. I had a tea. I took some deep breaths and munched some flapjack. It helped a bit, but the feeling was still there.

Enter the Fanta, stage left.

Alright, it didn’t shoot me into the giggly stratosphere. It did make me feel like I was ten again though. And that at least made me smile.