WAITROSE TUNA MAYO SANDWICH
Define essential, divine essentials, Waitrose goes simple, oops! and value with their oh so essentials range. Essential sweet potatoes, essential cashew butter, essential reduced sandwiches in the meal deal counter of Boots in Leeds station. I’m feeling a little bit meagre, reader. It would appear my arse has fallen out. Yesterday was St Patty’s day, a day where we all don inflatable pint heads and pay tribune to the blatant saint of the black stuff. It’s a little bit Irish, we’ve never been but we’ll happily play the smallest fiddle we can lay our five leafed clawers on. Of course we’ve been, some of us here are half Irish. We weren’t celebrating that ging gang gong though. Out in York wasn’t it, jet set willy style. Big boys doing it big, basement gig and BYOB. Fairly essentials I’m sure you’d agree. Popping caps, getting drenched, pulling new ones out of your bag and repeating. Nice one my son! Am I on the wrong train? I think I’m on the wrong train. Oh no, it’s making sounds like its going to start moving but it’s not scheduled to move for another four minutes. It’s ok, announcement made, I’m on the right train. Well done me, I’ve passed the test of life. By a hair’s breadth…a hare’s breath, a hen’s teeth, a country mile, a child’s smile, a straight banana, the final furlong, the last chapter, everything but the kitchen sink. You’re a wise young old man, you were last to note the platform change but damn you’re a wise fellow. Look at these sleepy eyes, this sandwich detritus strewn across my jacket, what’s this joke, this feeble oink. He couldn’t organise a piss in a brew, I wouldn’t cross the street to watch myself pee in a tea. What’s his credentials? I want a full background check. I’ve just seen a dirty horse/jungle pony dancing across an empty sports field. No person in any kind of distance, a loose horse. It was really going for it to be sure (Paddy’s hangover), doing those little leaps, manic gallops near the goal posts. Good job I looked out of the window when I did, getting plenty of sheep in the monitor now, my eyelids ever heavy. I can’t remember where I was, I shalln’t conclude the chasing of my own tail down the rabbit hole. I’m back, I’m half British. I’m a sacred idiot and I’m traversing dark tunnel after dark tunnel in a quest for Mother. It’s Mother’s Day see, a mountain of mums throughout the land, momma worship. Mum time. Battle of the Mums. Your Mum works for my Mum. What’s the best thing your Mum can do? My Mum’s younger than yours, my Mum has all her own teeth. Just going past Salt’s Mill, home of the Hockney. The oldest iPad in the game, Grandad’s turbo powered bicycle. It’s literally a gorgeous day, my vitamin D levels are through the roof. I’m metamorphosing from a grape to a raisin. You haven’t aged a day old friend. I’ve got that Filippo Berio theme tune in my head. Does anyone remember that Filippo Berio cartoon? It wasn’t a cartoon, it’s an olive oil. No, I’m pretty sure it was a cartoon, I can remember the theme tune. It wasn’t a theme tune, it was an advert jingle. Oh, my mistake. Was it sung by the same guy what sung Go Compare? No. Wait, where am I?
I’m home, I’m back home now in Manchester. I’ve been home, to my parents but now I’m back in the arms of Lady Legend at flat A, Legend Street. What happened? I think I blacked out. What did I eat? A reduced tuna mayo from Waitrose in Leeds station, on the platform. Far enough along the empty platform to devour and photograph my sandwich without threat of onlooker? Sounds about right. How was it? Average. Could have done with sweetcorn. It was a bit beige. It’s hair was the same colour as it’s skin, it was a bit like Bart Simpson but without the skateboard. My friend fell off a skateboard this weekend, smashed his iPhone he did. They have iPhones on the Simpsons now. Did you know I type every Food Legend on my iPhone? Did you know that Lady Legend dropped a mug on my iPhone in the night and now I have a smashed iPhone? Did you know that it was my fault for leaving it on the floor? Did you know that the Waitrose tuna mayo sandwich is nothing to write home about? Perhaps I would’ve been better writing home about the reese’s pieces I picked up for an offer price of 32p from Sainsbury’s local in Leeds station. Perhaps I should have written home about Leeds station having an actual Funkypigeon.com shop(!). Perhaps I should’ve written about the explicit Thai meal I consumed in York. Or the onion rings I ate by proxy from burger king via second hand smell in the car. But no, I wrote about the indescribable tuna mayo sandwich. The blankest slate in the box. Truth be told I only had 54p in my pocket so it was the only reduced option in reach. Lord knows it wasn’t the shining light of Waitrose’s b-team. The underdog forced my hand, a plain and simple exercise free of thrills and flair. Essential to a point but I wouldn’t put it on my Amazon wish list.
It’s Tuesday now, a sea of review possibilities has washed over me since. I’m slowly regaining full strength. I’m feeling alive again but for how long? Next time I must place my faith rationally and treat every snack as my last. Carry more than 54p and you can be the king of the reduced counter. I aspire to be more.