If life is like a busy highway tuck shop; it follows that some days will yield little more than a dreary peanut-butter on Best-Of-Both sandwich. Such days make this writer’s appetite scream with fear, and the fear cannibalises itself until the days become a hungry week.
Sometimes the shop is over-stocked; a never ending conveyor belt, presenting sumptuous treats. Here a triple-decker tale of beef and mustard on a crusty peasant loaf; there a berry-brown ceramic bowl of fuggy mushroom broth, steaming with tales of coriander and Eastern shores, a glass of robust red to boot. There may be a glittering silver tray of colourful, rose-scented cupcakes, or a pink porcelain platter of sugar-crusted apple tarts.
The urge to gobble everything is irresistible and the solution is to allow the keyboard to take what is on offer; to revel in the tastes and smells and allow the muse to feast.
What must be avoided, at all costs, is the temptation to present it to the reader and share what has been digested, all at once. No, it is far more prudent to store the abundance for times of future famine, in carefully-marked containers and keep them until they’re needed.
I must stock the larder well, so that I have a hearty meal at hand, to put forward as an alternative to the proverbial End-Of-The-Month-Salticrax.