As a child lunch consists of the same constituents, a sandwich with a simple filling, a yogurt, a piece of fruit and if you’re lucky, a chocolate bar. You might also get a juice box or just help yourself to water at school. It was simply and easy. The only thing that really altered was the filling. Peanut butter one day, left over chicken another.
Now some 20 years later every lunchtime I have a horrible nagging desire to have an amazing lunch. A superb soup with a witty name, an exotic sandwich with rocket on hand crafted bread or a Spanish Tortilla. And every day I hate it. I end up gouging myself with more food than necessary and my purse feeling like it’s been mugged. I want to do back to the halcyon days when I was happy with my slightly flattened sandwich (sometimes that made it taste all the better). I’ve had enough of plastic wrapped sandwiches and food in paper boxes carried in fancy paper bags stuffed full of cutlery and serviettes. I love the choice, don’t get me wrong, but it does force me to try and better the previous days lunch or even worse, compete with my work colleagues. Conversations centre around how fancy or new your lunch is.
“Oh mine is just a salad box from Pret”
“This? It’s from that new Italian deli across the road. Only £5…”
The one thing that stops me from making a lunch box and bringing it to work? Pure and utter laziness. I need to take a stand and get some bread, use that left over chicken and find a good 80’s style lunch box, preferably with the Care Bears on the front. It’ll make me feel better. I’m sure.