​The Trio biscuit is coming back: Why do we hanker after long-gone lunchbox treats?

United Biscuits is projecting sales of £3.2m for the Trio 2.0

Choc and awe: the TV ad for Trio bars expressed our yearning in song

In Bill Bryson's book Notes from a Small Island, the author travelled around Britain finding out what made us tick. One keen observation was that if you gave a group of people in a pub two place names, they would happily talk for hours about how to get from one to the other. In my experience, the mere mention of a chocolate bar or biscuit from the past 30 years – especially if said snack is no longer on sale – will similarly kick off a conversation that will run and run.

The news that, after a 13-year absence, the Trio is to return to supermarket shelves on 1 March not only created a buzz in The Independent's offices, it also led to renditions of the song from the snack's advert (“Trio! Triiiiiio! I want a Trio and I want one now!”). If my colleagues are anything to go by, the return of the chocolate-coated, toffee-filled biscuit will be triumphant.

That they are being reinstated at all is thanks to The Grocer magazine, which in 2012 ran a poll that was surely inspired by the kind of conversations mentioned above. Its “Bring Back a Brand” Facebook campaign resulted in 100 discontinued snacks being nominated by the public.

Funny Feet ice-cream lollies and Fish 'n' Chips biscuity snacks are two other favourites from the campaign that were subsequently resurrected by their makers. Now, United Biscuits is giving Trios the kiss of life. Daniel Selwood, food and drink editor of The Grocer, is thrilled. “Trio is the third of the finalists to come back,” he says. “It's enormously gratifying for the magazine to have this kind of influence and, as past fans of these products, it's also very satisfying.”

When Trio got chewy

United Biscuits is, Selwood tells me, projecting sales of £3.2m for the Trio 2.0. “They're going to be limited edition, initially,” he says – no doubt to find out the size of our appetite for retro sweets. A quick look online shows that social media is hardly bereft of people banging on about their favourite, long-lost snacks. Why are we so keen on confectionary that has ceased to be? “It's not just the taste – it's what else they remind us of in the past,” says Selwood. “As a child you're told by your parents how many sweets you can have because of your health; but, as an adult, you're like, well, a kid in a sweetshop.”

Alas, for those posting mournfully about Spangles, Aztecs et al, they might not have quite the same impact with food manufacturers as the “Bring Back a Brand” project. “I'm not sure how much attention brands pay to Facebook campaigns, because everyone on there has an opinion,” says Selwood.

Not half. I still miss using Cadbury's Spiras, fresh from the fridge, to drink my coffee through – a truly decadent take on a straw that I'd petition the company to bring back if I thought I had a chance of success. What about Selwood? “Striper chew bars. Chewy, fruit-flavoured bars with horizontal rainbow stripes. I remember them because my sister Lucy first introduced me to them – she was a big fan.” Nostalgia. Does anything taste quite so sweet?

Snack for good: The treats we'd like to see make a comeback

Red Liquorice Allsorts

They filled my days with joy. The deliciousness of the surrounding sweetness, left untarnished by the disgusting aniseed punishment of black liquorice. They were like Dolly Mixtures with added chewy satisfaction. When I could no longer find them, something inside me died. Even trawling the internet for them has given me no joy. I also mourn Dream bars. They were the Yorkies of white chocolate. I'm lost without them. Holly Baxter

United

Made by McVitie's, this was a staple of 1980s lunchboxes. Available in orange- or milk-chocolate, the wrapper striped and emblazoned with a football, it was the biscuit bar that small boys thought would set them on course for Division One stardom. At the least, it was the perfect accompaniment to a long session of Panini sticker-swapping. Will Gore

Mingles

They all tasted the same: chocolaty with a hint of toothpaste. Mint crunches were usually the first to go in our house, leaving unloved mint fondants at the bottom of the box. And golly, that box! A daring aquamarine with swish lettering and faux-expensive gold accents. Chloë Hamilton

Walkers cheese and onion crisps

Or, for that matter, any snack replete with monosodium glutamate, the cornerstone of many of our most beloved flavourings. Some years back, in the light of a few (largely spurious) scare stories, manufacturers removed it and replaced it with “natural” alternatives. None of which do the job. Don Connigale