It`s chocolate week. Here are 3 big, fat chunks....

Chocolate. Want some? Call me.

Like it, as a business concept? I thought I'd throw it out there. With a couple more hand made, glisteningly chocolatey creations that I made earlier. Here's why:

Every time I mention my (incredible, patent pending) idea for a Chocolate Van; (*You dial; we deliver*....Lol...) I`m swamped with urgent appeals  to get the business on the road. Immediately, if the booty's in the boot; so to speak. It's usually fairly late in the evening when these Twitter conversations kick in, long after tea's been scoffed, and always after any children in the house have been tucked up in bed.

Sometimes the tweets are quite angry. Women (in the main....) tweeting IN CAPITAL LETTERS  that there's NO CHOCOLATE in their house; often demanding to know why. (You've eaten it, love. )

I used to think it was just a girl thing. All down to those ...... hormonal cravings. But men respond to the choc-tweeting too .(OK...Richard, mainly, wanting sherbet lemons.) They clearly love chocolate too...but the longing is nowhere near as intense. On the other hand, it's often the bloke (apparently)...who gets sent down to the petrol station when there`s a choccie craving in the house.

The need for chocolate can be desperate, and urgent. My friend Carol was driven to licking powder from a tin of hot chocolate mix. Sue ripped open a (wrapped) box of chocolates for her auntie which were under the Christmas tree. Then scoffed the top layer and half of the second before retiring to bed, nauseous. (Look ok, there's no Sue. It was me.)

This is often because even the `secret` chocolate in their hideaway places* has been greedily consumed.Now there`s nothing. Don`t pretend you don`t know what I mean by this*, by the way. I`m not eating chocolate at the moment, (really) but, should there be an in-flight emergency at any time, I know, entre nous, where I can find some: *Adopts air stewardess mode with that arm thingie going on...*

Here: (my desk, my drawer, my chocolate)

Here, in a kitchen cupboard.....

And even here; in the feckin` freezer:

Here`s the plan, then. I go to the wholesalers and get a shedload of the the regular stuff. .Mars Bars, Twirls, Toffee Crisps, Dairy Milk. Big slabs of the stuff. Not 'for sharing'. For `ourselves`. Then there'd be the `luxury` range. I`d have to do some deal with Julia of Toot Sweets in Shrewsbury, so that any `A` list clientele could partake of her chocolate covered honeycomb bars. Her salted caramels. Her mixed selections. (This is driving me stark raving bonkers, writing this. Julia, come in, please...over....)

And cakes. Home (not mine, obviously...) baked chocolate brownies with white-choc-chips in them. Party celebration numbers with deep, sweet, lavish layers and toppings of chocolate buttercream. Cookies... chunky chocolate biscuity traybakes....you like?

I`m forgetting the key issues here, like formulating a business plan. Pah. Let`s talk van colours...chocolate and cream..or `you know whose` purple? Or should I travel incognito--so that you could just pop out in your onesie and slippers, have a quick browse and get back in the house to eat the stuff?

....and the winners are.........

....A couple of blogs ago, I was writing about the delights of having a sea view...and whether, if you had one.... you`d ever tire of it. I asked what kind of sights YOU could see from where you live or work--and what kind of view you`d like to have. And I promised a chocolatey prize from the amazing Shropshire chocolatier Julia Wenlock (@tootsweetsshrew) for the winner.

Well there was a fabulous response--so thankyou!

And because I`m so chuffed that you took the time and trouble to send pics, I`ve decided to award two main prizes instead of one...and a sweet treat from Julia`s shop for everyone whose picture appears on the blog.

So...a box of freshly made chocolates to Nita, for her beach views of Pwhelli (and the view in her room of Livia doing *yoga*), and another box of freshly made chocs to Kerry of Shropshire, for her views of beaches in Wales and Cornwall, and her favourite view of all, little Luke.

And for the `runners up`....mini chocolatey thankyous : to Mike in Folkestone, Judy in Warwickshire, Alec Dyche (man on the move), Roy W (man hearing moooos), Tracey the HoboFlorist from Oswestry, Cathy Brown with her view from a London office, Scott from Scott`s Snack Shack in Shrewsbury, and for sheer impudence, Mr Ian Perry for *his* shot of the Sydney harbour bridge, which fooled nobody, but made me laugh.

I`ll pop the prizes in the post on Monday--so if your name appears above, please email me your address.   janemcintyre1@btinternet.com

And thanks so much for taking part!

ps. Julia Wenlock`s shop can be found at Shrewsbury Market Hall. I defy you to pop in and not buy something!!

Drunk in tent

Did you hear that hail? It was bad enough pounding the top of my car roof this morning, but looked a bit grim for the row of tents at our local campsite.No tea brewing, by the looks of things. No sign of life at all, really.Maybe they`d gone for the double zipped sleeping bag option to beat today`s icy blast.

I`d never really believed you could have that much fun under canvas. The ground`s so damn hard. Then a neighbour, who by chance, owned a marquee company at the time, suggested we all bring in the new millennium in one of his. It was massive.The whole street got together; invited friends;shared the catering;booked the posh Portaloos;sorted the sounds--oh and the `in-tent heating` and a fantastic night was had by all. With many more new years eve celebrations to follow, in similar amazing marquees.

You have to get the tent pegs in tight, don`t you? I know this; because at a post party coffee and brandy session round ours at about 3 am one wintry January 1st, I realised to my complete horror that I`d left several untouched *chocolate* puddings on a table in the tent. It was dark. And snowy.The lane was full of potholes. And my skirt was tight and my high heels high. But, like I said, it was chocolate. So I walked--kind of sideways--down the lane, to find the marquee securely zipped up for the night. Like a canvas Fort Knox.There was only one thing for it. I burrowed under the bottom of the tent, and slithered in,like a commando. Not *commando*, you understand, but like one. Covered in mud (it had been a long night, and I was past caring...) I just managed to stand in my heels and locate my quarry.Well..one chocolate roulade and a banoffee pie, I think.Now.How to get them back out of the marquee....and home (in heels).

I checked (and confirmed) they were still good enough to eat; passed them under the gap I`d curved into the canvas until they rested on a low shelf of snow outside,then followed them through. This had taken about forty minutes. It was another fifteen or so, before I was standing upright, in the snowy field, in heels, with a plate in each hand--desperately trying to keep the chocolate on the china.

I staggered back down the lane, and with mudsmeared hands and face, (there may have been a little chocolate on my face too....my memory`s hazy....)...held my trophies aloft to my guests. As they climbed;waving maniacally at me, into their three, homebound taxis. They were pretty wasted; but believe me, the puddings weren`t.

The field where the marquees used to be has been turned into a plot for a lovely house now, for the same neighbour, so no more parties. But plenty of memories.And an enduring curiosity about life under canvas....

Chocolate:the final frontier...

I love it and I hate it. If I taste even the tiniest corner, I have to finish the whole damn slab. Yep, even if it`s a family sized stonker. The kind the health police have now told chocolate companies to label as *IDEAL FOR SHARING*.Get lost. Fat chance.

I did, however, once share an attic flat at the top of an old mansion in Chislehurst with a wonderful girl called Anita. Because a couple of the rooms were Toblerone shaped;chocolate (and men) were on our minds a lot of the time. Mine (chocolate bars...not blokes...) would arrive in a rush; the result of a quick dash to the garage and a sprint up three flights of stairs to work off what was to follow. In,slam door shut; frenzied ripping off of wrappers; scoffed. Game over.

Anita, though, would unwrap hers slowly and seductively.... teasingly breaking off just a square...then maybe another...then leaving the rest of it seminaked ; peeping through the folded back wrapper...tempting anyone (I was her only flatmate) who might glance into `her` cupboard to check out the tomato puree situation. In her mind, it was there as a little treat for herself the next night. She soon learnt that was a bad idea. Finders, keepers. You see it; you eat it. Fact.

I`ve tried the completely calorie free variety too--you know--the bar you munch in the car all alone? Nobody sees you eat it if you drive fast enough ; so you get home..and the chocolate thing never really happened. Until the scales give your secret away. Been there, didn`t like it.

But I`m staying strong! It`s been tough. I would, frankly, kill for one of Julia Wenlock`s chocolate covered honeycomb bars today, or virtually anything she produces at her Shrewsbury based business, (she`s on Twitter, too, at @TootSweetShrew ...go on...eat my share...!) but once I start.......you know the story.These days, the bathroom scales are making me smile, and that`s the way it`s going to stay .Happy chocolate chomping if that`s what you`re up to today :) And happy chocolate week to Julia and everyone else whose beautiful creations tempt and delight us.