When the topic of extreme longevity comes up, the routine answers—early nights, a glass of whisky, brisk daily walks—almost write themselves. Yet sometimes reality offers an answer that is so unexpectedly specific it manages to stand out in the crowded field of centenarian tropes. Leslie Lemon of Aylesbury, freshly minted at 106 years old, credits a single daily ritual with his remarkable life span: custard. As BBC News reports in a characteristically understated fashion, Lemon isn’t touting vitamins or meditation, but “custard, custard, custard; rhubarb from the garden and custard.”

The Comfort of Custard, in Moderation

In what might be the most British twist possible, Mr. Lemon’s lifelong pudding loyalty comes packed with specifics. According to an account in the Bucks Herald, Bird’s is preferred, although emergencies find him reaching for a tin of Ambrosia’s ready-made custard. Some might consider it advanced planning that he keeps the pantry stocked just in case a custard emergency should arise. As reported in the outlet, Lemon says, “You should always have a pudding.” Rhubarb and custard top his list, with trifle ranking high—a dessert-oriented worldview if ever there was one.

Family history backs up the pudding principle: Leslie’s son Richard is quoted by the Herald saying, “Dad is a believer in that you should always have pudding and he’s had custard as long as I can remember.” The outlet also notes that, despite his age, Lemon “doesn’t feel older at all” and claims, “I’ve got no aches and pains. I don’t take any tablets or medications. I never see a doctor.” BBC News similarly highlights that Lemon is currently free from aches, isn’t on medication, and hasn’t needed to see a doctor, raising the question—one that may haunt nutritionists—of whether custard really is an underappreciated food group.

A Sweet Life, Hard-Earned

Of course, the story of Leslie Lemon contains more than just dessert. The BBC points out that Lemon’s army service ran the course of World War Two. Joining the Royal Engineers in 1939, he served both before and after victory was declared. As the conflict drew to a close, he was stationed at Bergen-Belsen, assisting in the aftermath as British soldiers took control—a detail he describes without fanfare, saying simply, “We helped as much as we could.” Five years ago, France acknowledged his contributions by awarding him the nation’s highest honor, the Légion d’honneur, a tidbit also documented in the Bucks Herald.

After demobilization, the only job available was “office boy” at the Inland Revenue, a role he eventually left behind in 1979, retiring at 60. BBC News wryly points out that Lemon has now been retired for longer than he spent working—a rare achievement and possibly one more easily achieved with a side of trifle. The family—eight grandchildren, nine great-grandchildren, and two great-great-grandchildren among them—flocks back for celebrations, card games, and, fittingly, a centenary barbecue with a hamper of custard-related goodies.

There are traces of loss as well. Both outlets recount the story of his daughter Mary, who died at age ten from hepatitis contracted from polluted seawater. “You never get over it,” Mr. Lemon reflects to BBC News. His wife Doreen, also a wartime service member, passed away in 1999. But the focus, both in Lemon’s retelling and in his family’s recollections, is on togetherness and contented routine—nightly whist games, steady visits, and, throughout it all, pudding.

The Fringe Benefits of Custard Devotion

Lemon’s steadfast pudding loyalty has not gone unnoticed beyond the family circle. The Bucks Herald describes how supermarket chain Asda, picking up the baton, awarded him a year’s supply of custard—punning that “when life gives you lemons add custard.” The report also notes a collection of royal birthday cards—one from Queen Elizabeth II and, more recently, two from King Charles and Camilla—sitting on his mantel as low-key testament to his rarefied club membership.

For those seeking nutritional insight, there’s not much to dissect beyond Lemon’s refreshingly unfussy advice. In the BBC coverage, he suggests, “Take things as they come and be prepared to adjust; not to be too set in your ways.” The Herald adds an equally modest note with Lemon’s view that “everything in moderation” is a good path.

Yahoo News also touches on Lemon’s devotion to his daily custard, reinforcing his habit of a cold dish and his willingness to make do with whatever form of custard is available—powdered or ready-made, so long as pudding is never optional.

Is custard a universal key to the triple-digit club? One suspects it’s not quite so simple. But there’s a certain magic in the idea that a daily dish of comfort, garden-fresh rhubarb, and the steadfast company of family can form the backbone of a truly long life. Sometimes the oddest explanations are also the most enjoyable. And really, in a world brimming with fads and miracle diets, it’s a relief to know the secret to contentment and longevity might just be cooling quietly in the fridge.