These were the words with which I greeted Hannah. We'd arranged to meet for lunch but all thoughts of healthy sustenance went out the window when we discovered they were giving away mountains of the little gold praline orbs mere steps from her office.
It used to be a tradition in Hannah's family that, every Christmas, her granny would complain there were fewer nuts in Ferrero Rochers than last year. I didn't question the nice ladies handing them out about this because, to be honest, I was too busy stuffing free chocolates into my face. Instead we stepped inside - this wasn't just a large Ferrero Rocher, it was a two-storey edifice of epicurean enlightenment!
Under the golden dome were luxury sofas, Christmas trees, displays, more people handing out chocolates, photo booths, a roaring fire, and more people handing out chocolates. It was, you might say, rather like an Ambassador's reception.
Having eaten my way through about three dozen auric spheres of deliciousness I stood back to survey the carnage. A school group had arrived and pupils were being marshalled around in groups of ten (I hope this was just happenstance rather than a school trip specifically to a giant Ferrero Rocher, which would be weird). Everywhere people were wrestling their way to grab scratch cards to get the chance to win more of the chocs that were being given out for free - my wife among them. As I skillfully unwrapped the foil on one last bohemian bonbon I felt I could assure Hannah's granny: there's no shortage of nuts in here.
It's a giant Ferrero Rocher. A. Giant. Ferrero. Rocher.
In we go.
Under a dome reminiscent of the Basilica di Santa Maria in Florence.
Munching in luxury.
You can get them in different shaped packages. Who knew?
Looking very much like Cary Grant (me, not the baby).
