I gaze at the back of the box of cornflour sat on the table.

Double the thickening qualities of flour. Perfect for thickening sauces and gravies

it says, enthusiastically.

I glance over the rest of the box, trying to ascertain its origin.

Try Me! it pleads.

We’re sure you’ll Love this product! If you don’t simply call for a full refund.

I gaze once more at the cornflour. “Love it?”, I wonder? I can envisage thickening my stews with it, enjoying a more substantial gravy perhaps, but loving it? I try to imagine long walks on moonlit beaches, trails of white powder drifting aimlessly behind us as we cavort in the sand-dunes. Thick, sticky messes as we toss and turn in the waves, breaking on the shore. Candle-lit dinners in expensive restaurants, all the sauces at just the right thickness…

Perhaps not. I put the box back in the cupboard, and decide its time for bed. Time to fall asleep on soft sheets, and dream of a world where gravy is loved just the way it is.