‘Ah, the 21st Century’ I thought to myself as I ambled around the station. ‘Stressful at times, presenting a level of confusing possibilities from clothing to politics unsuspected a few generations ago; but look at the plethora of superior snack options. Leon, Pret, exciting sandwiches and salad options that would have looked like an alien landing on the Wimpy menus of youth.’
And then I ordered a chicken and chorizon super salad.
And then I ate a bit.
As there was a p
assably attractive bloke other human being on the table next to me, I restrained my urge to spit out the flabby bit of beige/grey matter back into its cardboard box.
I pushed the other pieces around. Their lukewarm temperature and jelly-like consistency did nothing to appease the retch-o-meter. I tried one or two more in case they would suddenly turn back into something more chicken-like when I bit into them.
I sorrowfully fished out the leaves, ate the chorizo (too spicy but at least not actually vile) and curled my lips round a few small crumbs of Quinoa.
*Bloody bits of Quinoa are NOT going to sustain me all the way till tea time.* Toyed with idea of whispering at a staff member that I REALLY wanted to like Leon, with its promise of real food, fresh ingredients, and its appetising design, but the chicken was duff. Didn’t. At the moment I have to wear a plate to correct something in my jaw that will hopefully repair a decade of back trouble; but you have to remove to munch, and I can’t imagine that I’d retain any sense of chicken dignity while snapping it back in.
As consolation I decided to buy something less healthy with more sugar in it from Pret, across the concourse. Bit of popcorn. That’ll be filling. Oo, with this caramel and coffee drizzle? why not.
ERROR. Tastes as much like coffee as cough syrup does like banana or strawberry or such like.
Fall back on emergency dark chocolate in handbag, disappointed that I have now parted with best part of a tenner merely in order to send a few sorry grams of rabbit food down the hatch.
See muffins on trolley service on train. Already convinced they will be dry. Buy green tea instead. Realise that the Zen of Hobbit (taking duff food in your stride) is in my case very much an unperfected philosophy.