Deep Fried Mars Bars!!!! For a moment I thought I was back in Glasgow's Barrowlands but, nope, I was at the monster St Joseph Farmer's Market, deep in Ontario's Mennonite country.
The market is a mecca for lovers of fresh, healthy food in southern Ontario, but I guess they have to cater for all tastes, and it's obvious there are people outside Scotland who believe culinary magic resides at the deep end of a chip pan. However, pushing nostalgic thoughts (and hurtburn) to one side, I gave the Mars Bars a pass, as I'd just had breakfast. Next time . . .
Ah, nostalgia. Ah, Glasgow Barrowlands. Bought out first car, a Ford Corsair, there. Handed over the cash, drove it away from the dealer's lot, tootled merrily around the countryside for a couple of hours; the lights refused to work, the brakes were sticky and it ran over our daughter's bike reversing into the driveway. Had to scrap it three weeks later after the suspension collapsed. My colleagues at the Scottish Daily Express had warned us not to buy from the Barrows. But we were young and foolish. And the car was bright red and I swear I heard a whisper, "Buy me, and I'll give you the time of your life", as we peered under its bonnet/hood. . .