Some bad things are good for you

It was a weird phone call and it went something like this.

Tshwaku: “Chief.”

Me: “Comrade, if you tell me you’re too hungover and didn’t get the goods we’re going to have a problem.”

Tshwaku: “No. I’m here chief. Which ones do you want?”

Me: “Pepper steak. Two pepper steak.”

Tshwaku: “And it’s a double thick vanilla, right?”

Me: “Correct. Thank you comrade.”

Tshwaku: “Sho.”

Told you it was a weird convo… So here’s the background. Tshwaku is my colleague and mate, Khanyiso Tshwaku. He was in East London and if asked him to bring me some contraband. That contraband was two typical Slummies things that are just better than anything else — Shamrock pies and Friesland milkshakes. If you’ve never had them, you’re missing out. Big time!

This is a Shamrock pie. It will change your life.

There is no better milkshake in the world.

Now I know I’m meant to be being healthy and stuff. And I know that a pie is not healthy. It’s the carbs. Or something like that. And milkshakes aren’t healthy because of aaaaaall the sugar. 

But guess what? I don’t care!

Why don’t I care? Because some bad things are good for you. It all depends on how you define “good”. Let me explain.

Growing up, I remember going to East London a lot. My dad is from there. I had family there. My maternal and paternal grandparents lived there. I played a lot of sport (particularly squash) there. East London has a lot of memories for me. One of the things we would always do before traveling back to Umtata was to grab a Friesland milkshake and drink it on the beachfront. My dad always got a double-think lime milkshake. I got a vanilla. We would drink them together. Talk nonsense. Just chat, you know.

(If you want an idea of my relationship with my dad, I wrote a letter to him a few years ago. Warning: it’s very soppy.)

My dad and I, when I was a cute-baby. Seriously. Look at me! I was cute as hell.

So why are the “bad” things like pies and milkshakes good? Because they bring back amazing memories. Unforgettable memories. Flashbacks of times spent with a man I loved deeply and will continue to love for years to come.

And, hey, that’s worth the few extra calories. 

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