Sandwich

When they excavate Roman skeletons, they can see immediately which were manual workers from the enlarged muscle attachment areas on their bones.  This one pushed heavy carts, that one lifted sacks.

What I want to know is, does sandwich-making leave its mark?

Will Tony Robinson one day be shaking his head over my sad old skeleton as some expert tells him “Notice the spatulate hands and the enlarged shoulder from cutting bread and cheese. This woman clearly made over a thousand packed lunches and picnics every year for fifteen years.”

I went through a period of rebellion where I just bought bread with cheese and tomatoes baked onto it.  I’m not sure the kids liked it – one of them said something that sounded like “Focaccia.”

I had a patch of experimentation – pitta pockets and tortilla wraps.  Things fell out.

So basically, it has come down to two slices of bread with protein between them. 

At my height, with three growing teens, I was buttering ten slices of bread a day.

But next week is the last week of the twins’ school days and my last week of sandwich making. 

How will I cope? 

Perhaps Nigel will wake in the night to find that I have sleep-walked to the kitchen and am making a pile of phantom sandwiches.

 

Remember:  let me have your stupid exam experience story.

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Drolls and Weirds – "The mine is how we make our money."-  Read chapter 6 of my story of love and mystery set in Cornwall by clicking here. Or read from the start.