Life should be punctuated by as many sweet moments as possible.

This last year we’ve suffered the loss of so many things we used to love to do. Those of us forced to shield from Covid have been denied more than most.

My lyrics to Letter From America by the Proclaimers could read: “Alcohol no more; driving no more … socialising no more, shopping no more.”

So, I’m reluctant to let go of any tiny morsel of pleasure that remains “grabbable” to me – and that brings me to my taste buds.

They’ve taken a bit of a hammering this past year as a side effect of chemotherapy and only seem able to work if I overload a curry with chillies and garlic, supplement the mince and tatties with an overdose of salty stock cubes, and blanket my pasta with a blizzard of Parmesan.

But, for some beautiful reason, they do happily spark into action when I feed my sweet tooth. This, in itself, is a strange phenomenon for me as I was never big on puddings until early last year when an NHS nutritionist – so alarmed at my rapid weight loss – advised an urgent diet change to include full-fat, dairy and sweet foods whenever possible.

The supermarket home-delivery orders suddenly got overloaded with ice cream, cake, custard, blue-top milk, full-fat butter and biscuits.

That’s all good and well, I suppose, until taking into account my diabetic status. Up to this point I’d managed it by diet control but that was clearly not going to be the case any longer.

The worrying weight-loss issue was reversed through the combination of diet change and successful chemotherapy and immunotherapy treatments. But now I am addicted to desserts – and I don’t mean a wee slice of cake. Not a bit of it – I need to go the whole hog!

A big slice of apple pie or cake alongside a goodly portion of ice cream covered with lashings of thick double cream is my “dish of the day”. My blood sugar levels were rising steadily to the point that something needed to be done.

When my doctor raised it, I reluctantly volunteered to cut desserts but threw in the plaintive plea that this was a pleasure for me and was the only real taste kick I could get.

To my utter delight my medical maestro displayed his very best humanitarian traits and agreed that quality of life was very important and there was a pill he could prescribe that would control my sugar levels, allowing my guilty sweet pleasures to continue.

I already take 22 pills every day so why not 23? Happy to report that sugar levels are now stable and daily desserts devoured. Thanks doc.

Ally McLaws is a freelance specialist in writing, business marketing and reputation management. See the full range of services and this column at www.mclawsconsultancy.com