Me and my Milo

The thing about having relentless hot weather first thing in the morning is that it coincides too neatly with likewise first-thing-in-the-morning hunger pangs, and then the only thing that can appease both hunger and heat is sitting on a refrigerated shelf in the provision shop next door: a slender green can of Ice Milo that sparkles with condensation once it's extracted from its chill habitat.

There's 240 ml of the stuff, just enough to take me about half the short walk from the shop to the train station, not too much that I'd have to hastily gulp the last mouthfuls in order to toss the can before entering the station proper (no eating or drinking on the train: Fine $500). Its convenience is seductive, its chocolate milkiness trickles nostalgia with every sip (It's marvellous what Milo can do! for! you!).

And then you hear it's got palm oil in it. It smacks of urban legend at first, like the mouse in the Coke bottle, but there's only one way to find out: slowly rotate the empty slim can on its side, ignore the nutrition information table that screams 5.1g of fat, and proceed directly to the list of ingredients.

And there, nestled among already alarming delinquents like skimmed milk powder and milk fat, lies the recalcitrant, irredeemable palm olein.

Ay, me.

So farewell, green can of chocolatey goodness. Mornings will certainly be drearier and oomphless without you, but that's all part of growing up, I guess.


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