This tin reminds me of my mom, who used to fill similar tins with crunchies and drive them from Port Elizabeth to Grahamstown, where my sister, brother and I were at university. Back in the day, because of the state the roads were in, the GT-PE ride took nearly 2 hours. That’s a long way to go, to drop off a few biscuits. The delivery of crunchies killed a few birds with one stone. It gave her a great excuse to 1. Check on the action, and 2. Stop me getting too thin. I never ate enough, she thought. She was right. At 19, I was a stick insect. I went off most things except toast and cottage cheese.
My mother’s crunchies were tops. My friends ate most of them. Sometimes she’d arrive with chocolate cake or chicken stew. They’d plough through that too.
My mom was a top mother.