Back when I was a wee lad myself, during my one and only year of higher education, I used to look forward to Thursday nights. At 9:00 p.m. (or was it 10?), I would head off to the snack machines and buy myself a bag of chips and an icy cold Fresca, and then adjourn to the Junior Common Room ato watch Hill Street Blues.

I liked Fresca then. But then it went away.

Now it is back: eagle-eyed Catherine spotted a lone bottle of Fresca in the cash-side cooler at Zellers tonight and we agreed to split it. Alas this was not the Fresca of old: first, it was Diet Fresca, and so it had a horrible “sugar free” aftertaste. Also, it appears that in the 16 years since I was in university they have reformulated Fresca so that its taste approximates that of Lemony-fresh Pledge.

Advice: avoid Diet Fresca.