Could there be anything sadder than coming in from the last dog walk of the evening, cheeks flushed with cold, swathed in layers of down and wool and heading off to the kitchen for one little bite of chocolate to find: no chocolate.
Daffodils, yes. Dirty dinner dishes, check, a hungry cat, double check. But no chocolate.
Not one bite. Not a biscuit, not a square of Ritter's Sports Bar, nada. Even the plain biscuits were covered in Nutella and eaten by guests on Sunday. And this was after they finished the digestives and the chocolate bar. You know who you are. I'm sorry I had to make this public.
I still love you.