I don’t remember my first taste of coffee. I remember my first taste of tea – plastic mugs of weak PG Tips served at 4pm tea at school – part of what I now recognise to be a wartime rationing themed spread. Packet mashed potato was administered with potato scoops, and slices of spam were cut from the block using a bread knife. In the late-nineties there wasn’t the excuse of recent conflict to justify the menu. But I suppose some people just struggle to move on….
I’ve been toying with the idea of trying to lose some weight.
Nothing too drastic—maybe cutting pork pies out of my diet, or restricting myself to one pudding per meal, or drinking more tonic that gin……
Recently I told a long lost friend that I was living in East London. He looked at me, eyes brimming with pity, and asked whether I’d had to eat many jellied eels. If he wasn’t being deadly serious, I wouldn’t have been so shocked. But he was.
The East End has been shackled with a reputation of jellified, fish-based produce. People think that the 24-hour bagel shop is as good as it gets. Otherwise it’s Bethnal Green’s Chicken ‘n Ribs joints or a dodgy Brick Lane curry….