I have, since I last posted, done a little more on the job application, the rest will have to be done in Singapore. I have also done more packing, with only shoes left to be selected. The one victory of the day was the arrival of my new trainers, a pair of Vivo barefoot trainers. They are, unfortunately, rather duck-billed. I had liked my older ones, which didn’t look as wide and were a very fine sky blue. These ones are red and look somewhere between a pouch flapping on my foot and, as I said, a duck bill. Well, they are much needed anyway, since my lovely old ones are (as previously reported My computer is due to arrive on 5 December. The expected shipping date flickers back and forth so I shall expect it when I see it.
Another good article, though a less elevated one than the last I posted, on the UK sandwich industry. It was surprisingly interesting; I hadn’t quite realised how uniquely British the whole Pret-style lunch thing is, or how much of a specific encompassing worldview the industry has, but so it seems. I do like a prawn mayonnaise sandwich, possibly only because of my native Pakistani fondness for prawns such that their presence in a sandwich still feels unbelievable.
And this, I’m afraid, is something that I have personal experience of:
“People want to eat,” he said, leaning close. “They want comfort. They want solace. I’ve had a shit morning. I’ve fallen out with my boss. I’ve had a fucking horrible journey in. A poxy lettuce-and-whatever concoction in a plastic bowl is not going to do it for me. I want a cup of tea, a chocolate biscuit and I actually want to cry. I am going out for a fucking sandwich.”