I was teaching over my lunch hour today, and so had a blood-sugar crash on my way back to the station at Egham, requiring the taking on of some heavy fuel. A fish and chip shop had a sign saying cheesy chips. Now, if you go to a posh burger place, this means chips drenched in a thick orange cheesy sauce, the texture of warm snot. And that was exactly what I wanted. A few seconds after ordering, a sealed polystyrene box was handed back to me. I opened it a few paces down the street. What it contained was chips with some grated cheese on them. Just sprinkled. The jolt was almost physical. I was angry. I was upset. But I couldnt go and complain, because, after all, they could plausibly argue that what they meant by cheesy chips was chips with some grated cheese. I wouldnt have a legal leg to stand on. So I ate it. Mainly I brushed the cheese off and ate the chips in their natural state. But sometimes I ate a chip with some cheese adhering to it. Ive had worse things in my mouth. You hardly noticed the cheese. Still, though, it was a dispiriting journey back to West Hampstead.
Posted on: Wed, 15 Oct 2014 16:16:59 +0000
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