Having been living on my own for the past week things have fallen into a bit of a pattern. Left to yourself you return to your natural shape. Given our relationship, my natural shape isn’t all that different to my shape when “her in doors” is on the premises but one thing stands out. Well two actually but we’ll start with one. Meals are something that have to be thought about, otherwise you lose an unatural amount of weight. I am happy to consider almost anything as an evening meal as long as it can be eaten on toast, or occasionally between toasts.
The other evening I sat there fiddling with the Blogosphere and watching something on the discovery channel when Mr Stomach sent a message up to head office suggesting that supplies would be appreciated within the next ten minutes. No one likes to be rushed but I already had a contingency plan and before you could say “Gordon Ramsey” two pieces of bread where in the toaster, turned to the max and a small splash of oil went in the pan ready to receive one egg. In the world of fine dining, timing is everything. For the record, you want your egg to be just right and hot when you eat it. Timing the toast, and ensuring it is warm at the same time as the egg is hot takes a little planning. Oh no, in this high pressure catering environment there is no time for idle chatter. Concentration is everything.
Anyway, I digress. Within five minutes my toasted egg sandwich, with a smearing of brown sauce, was on the plate and ready to be savoured. I took a bite, wobbled a bit and then moved at a fairly rapid pace somewhere towards heaven. The egg was just right, and there was a softness in the yoke, but not enough to threaten my shirt when it exploded. A second bite confirmed my opinion of the first and I settled down for a pleasant period in paradise.
Outside was a nice river view, with the boat houses on the opposite river bank. A variety of birds were clearing their throats in nearby trees and all seemed well with the world. Sadly nothing lasts forever, and fairly soon that sandwich was gone. After you finish a great meal, cooked in one of the countries finest kitchens, there is a period of contemplation, and even a whiff of grief that the experience is now over. I lingered in that moment for a short period until a solution hit me: make another egg sandwich. And I did. I made another one and enjoyed it crunch by crunch and by the end I received a message from the stomach department saying, “Pleasantly full: further supplies unnecessary” . That’s good enough for me. I sat down to read my book and contemplate the good life.
Tomorrow I am going to explore the world of tuna. On toast of course. What other way is there? With a small smearing of sweet chilli sauce to once more infiltrate that sense of fine dining into the occasion . Tuna on toast can be an unforgettable experience. All in all. I am living pretty high on the hog here. As for the tea bags I am now almost a tea bag millionaire having invested in the tea bag futures market at the local shop yesterday.
When my good lady returns it will be more than lovely to see her but the world of fine dining on toast will become a memory. When I started this post I said there I said there were two things that really stand out. So powerful has the memory of my egg sandwich been that I can’t remember what the second one was. Thats what happens to you when you glimpse paradise.