Wolfing down Maltesers, I felt relaxed.
Mmm, that’s the stuff, I sighed.
Living with my husband John, 56, and our girls Rhea, 22, and Addison, 18, I was constantly hiding my secret stashes of choccy.
As a young girl, a piece of chocolate was a special Friday night ritual.
As a teen, I’d reward myself with the sweet treat after finishing homework.
By the time I was an adult, it was my guilty pleasure every night of the week.
, I’d tell myself, tucking into a block of milk chocolate as I turned on my
