It turns out that yesterdays disappointing fry up was even moreso than I feared. Today I am ill; my belly is trying to escape and is evacuating the troops as quickly as possible.
Maybe the eggs were a little too runny yesterday.
At lunch therefore I decided on something light, in one the 74,000 Sainsburys in central London I noticed the salad bar. Normally I don’t have much luck with these. I don’t know how, but no matter how carefully I choose the different things, every time I manage to get an eighth of an ounce of the one salad that is disgusting and seeps into everything else.
I’m sure that one of the ideas is that you fill the entire thing with just one type of pasta salad, but seeing as they’re all there I can’t help but try a bit of everything.
But today, feeling ill, I figured it might be sensible just to stick to the pesto, and the coronation chicken, and the rocket, and the olives, and the potato salad.
This time, miraculously the salad wasn’t tainted, at first. Halfway into the pot got THAT taste. I found the culprit, a bit of celery . I hate celery, the taste of it makes me retch, I had purposely not chosen anything with celery. And yet here it was, like a cancer taking over my sweet sweet pasta. Maybe Sainsburys hide celery in the pots before you even start.
Who knows?
But ruined.
I chucked it out and ate my Danish, raspberry and custard. Seemingly no raspberry, but the custard was good.
Possibly my favourite thing about being British
Custard.