I hate orange, it tries to force you to be upbeat and happy, it’s even more annoying than yellow.
Orange is the carrots scattered around my plate, as a child, the ones I loathed even more than cabbage and sprouts.
I had to eat all of those mushy orange circles before I could leave the table. If I didn’t finish them, there would be no Sara Lee Double Chocolate Gateau for me. Excruciating madness.
Orange carrots were spiteful and they made me crazy. I once chopped them up into the tiniest little bits and spread them around the empty family plates, trying to pass them off as peculiar leftovers. Naturally, I was rumbled. I was sent to bed and wasn’t even allowed to watch Neighbours.
I tried to put carrots in my pockets to flush down the toilet. My legs were slapped for that. Carrots made me desperate back then.
I quite like them now, after all that.