My grandmother...
...came over from Canada during the war, on one of those convoys that the U-boats loved to target.

Anyway, she brought with her several jars of molasses, because obviously it's not the sort of thing that you're going to be able to come by in rationing-bound Blighty and well, how would you manage without?

When I helped her move out of her flat in the early 90s -- a full fifty years later -- I had to chisel the jars off the shelf where they'd sat since she moved in. I was about to throw them out when she informed me that "they'll be fine, I just need to boil them up".
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Thu 3 May 2012, 17:11, Reply)