‘I nibble then bite the nut praline: pure joy’

Oxford. I am here to interview a neuroscientist – on joy – who also loves dark chocolate. One of the history professors has given us the use of her rooms because the neuroscientist’s office is a little too far for me to walk. I ease myself into one of the history professor’s sofas, chaise longue-style, shoes off, legs up. I have hurt my knee.

I have, unfairly and provocatively, fanned out some bars of chocolate for later for the neuroscientist to sample and I watch as he is distracted all the while, side-eyeing them. More on this another time.

Oxford feels safe. Safer than London (I love London, this isn’t a dig) and safer than almost anywhere I’ve been. The place is a-throng with students wrapping up term, exiting exam rooms with tangible relief, but mostly wanting – really wanting – to learn. Earlier, two students had stopped me to say I looked cool (amazing what a pair of dark flares and a vibrant collar can do for an older woman). I beam for the rest of the afternoon.

I have snuck into my bag, for later, a small, thick tile of Radek’s Brazil Nut Praline, £4.50 made in conjunction with Hodmedods, whose flour I use to make bread. The nuts are wild-harvested and machete-processed by the Kayapó people in the Amazon, then mixed with cocoa paste and coconut sugar and coated in 80% dark chocolate.

On my way home, after a visit to yet another doctor, and as I start to decompress and process, I remember it. It is the perfect size for an indulgence. After my chicken sandwich from Hamblin’s (delicious), I nibble, then bite the nut praline. Soft, substantial, nourishing. Pure joy.