It's a Dutch thing. No British person would eat cold custard. Unless it was so cold it was ice cream.
Cold custard honestly can't be nice. But then I don't like hot custard.
And custard, btw, isn't a pudding in its own right. Custard is like gravy. But you have it with your dessert (or as you like it call it for some reason your pudding) rather than the first course.
So. Apple pie... and custard. Jam roly poly... and custard. Spotted dick... and custard. See?
So pudding is like custard but thicker and not as rich, and it's cold instead of hot. But only so long as we're talking about the type of pudding you don't make out of blood. Possibly some hooves in there but definitely not blood.
Well, living in a part of the world (commonly known as heaven) where it never rains and is never cold, I don't suppose you ever felt the need to have hot custard.
You know what is funny? It rains more in Barcelona than in, say, Stockholme. Just in less days. That is, rain is heavier and occurs more sparsely. The humid warmth of the summer by the sea is something many people openly hate about the city.
I think I've resolved to treat a situation that's been plaguing my mind as being nothing more than misread signals, so I'm going to assume nothing exists. Not sure if I'll let it run free in my imagination nor how successful my resolve will be, but I at least have a plan of attack to stop it engulfing my thoughts more than is reasonable.
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