AMID all the sadness of the past week, it was a relief to celebrate something daft on Monday: National Biscuit Day.

Office talk here at the Evening Mail was dominated for a while by a discussion of the merits of Chocolate Hobnobs over Gypsy Creams and Ginger Nuts. Penguins, Clubs, Viscounts, Rich Tea and choccy digestives all got honourable mentions. For a while, debate raged about whether shortbread made the cut as a biscuit – or was it a cake? And fingers, or triangles?

Then a colleague threw in a fantastic, blast from the past curve ball: Farley’s Rusks. No sooner had the “are they actually biscuits?” inquiry been made, but one of the editorial team was out of the office and heading to the shops: which is how a group of grown-up journalists spent Bank Holiday Monday – eating baby rusks and deciding that they taste just as good today as they did when we were all teething infants. If only we’d had some Del Rosa rose hip syrup to wash them down with, our nostalgic treat would have been complete.