Show me a person who doesn't love hot chocolate, and I'll show you a lost soul led astray by one saccharine disappointment too many. But take heart, for there is hope for the poor creatures who dwell in dark ignorance of one of life's greatest joys. I call on you, my readers, the chosen ones, to rise up, cast out the powder, banish the kettle, and lead on unto the one true union of real chocolate, and creamy warm milk. Lo! Heaven on earth, in a mug.
Seriously, though: Cadbury has a lot to answer for. I was raised on its drinking chocolate, which my mum served up in steaming, milky bowls every single morning before school. Sweetly fawn and entirely unsophisticated, I'll remain a devotee until my dying day. But in the 1990s, the company started pushing a rogue "lower-calorie alternative". Soon the market was deluged with such false prophets, offering a watery quick-fix, and real hot chocolate began to seem an impossible decadence.
But, while I don't drink it for breakfast these days, and will admit to a sneaking fondness for a low-fat chocolate Horlicks before bed instead, there are occasions when only the good stuff hits the spot. That's any time it's snowy, obviously, but also on dark, dreary afternoons when spring seems to be receding from view, or when life seems to be one long series of stubbed toes. When the going gets really tough, you can even add a tot of something a bit stronger for extra fortification. Hot chocolate will always be there for you. Which is a lot more than can be said for a soya latte.