Lunch time has become some what of a mythical creature for me. It very rarely happens and when it does it fails to ignite the passion I once had for that time of the day. I remember packed lunches made with motherly love, school dinners laced with grease and sugar, diet coke breaks, liquid lunches and lunch hours with a side of Facebook stalking.
Today I am reminiscing for those lost lunch times. I have recalled my lunches from years past and thought it might be nice to share them with you.
Here we go.
The Early Years:
Age 1: Anything, according to my mum.
Age 5: Cucumber with everything, animal biscuits.
The School Years:
Age 7: Chicken fricassee, boiled potatoes with salt.
Age 11: Turkey drummer, chips and beans, doughnut, cherry Panda Pop. Every. Single. Day.
Age 15: A packet of T-bone steak Roysters crisps and an unhealthy dose of self loathing.
Age 17: Batting away a rampage of bitchy looks in the common room, boy watching, diet coke.
The Diet Years:
Aged 20: Small apple, small yoghurt, rice cake, belly full of insecurity.
The Heartbreak Years:
Age 21: Binge eating, purging.
Age 22: Wine, gossip, tears.
The Living With The Girls Years.
Aged 23: What ever I could buy for £2.50 from the questionable corner shop, cause I'd spent all my money on going out and cigarettes, food packages from mum.
The Falling In Love Years:
Aged 25: I can't remember.
The Baby Years:
Aged 26: Ginger tea, ginger biscuits, as much as I could fit in with a baby taking up half the room.
Aged 27: Cake, contentment.
Aged 28: Sometimes Baby's leftovers, often thin air.
Oh lunch time, don't be a stranger.
Come visit soon.
I miss you.