My maternal granny always had a bottle of Camp coffee in the kitchen cupboard! The consistency and colour always reminded me of what my Dad painted on the garden shed every year as preservative (similar smell too)! As a child, I was fascinated by the illustration of the bloke sitting on a chair on the front of the bottle, drinking his cup of Camp coffee - I liked labels on items, and always wanted to know the meaning behind the illustrations. My Gran said very vaguely that the man in the illustration was sitting down, because he was a soldier in an army camp and had just fought a battle! Yes, Gran, I suppose the first thing you would do is to demand a cup of Camp coffee afterwards!! Bless her, she was probably sick and tired of the same question, but Gran always had an answer for everything!
Different thing entirely, but I'll always remember going round to see a friend and she'd decided to try her culinary skills by cooking us both a Vesta ready meal from a packet (then the height of sophistication). Oh. My. Gawd. Said friend must have cooked the Vesta dehydrated curry for all of two seconds, because it came out of the saucepan with the consistency (and all the taste) of lumps of coal, but we bravely sampled it. Cue a trip to the local fish shop after cries of 'yuk!!'...