I left the office for lunch a few minutes later than usual yesterday. Unfortunately, this put me on the wrong side of the 12 o’clock lecture turnout, and the cafe was full of students. Even if I had queued, they’d have eaten all the good sandiches by the time I got to the chill cabinet anyway, so I was forced – really, I had no option – to go to the pub.
My local watering hole is usually quiet at lunchtime and offers a fairly standard range of pub grub. I opted for a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. Sadly, they were out of tomato. Would I like an egg instead? I thought that, on the whole, yes, I would. Botanists will try to tell you a tomato isn’t a vegetable, so substituing another non-vegetable for it seem quite reasonable.
A few minutes later, the barman was back. With tears in his eyes, he broke the news to me that they had also run out of lettuce and could I possibly consider accepting a sausage instead? I couldn’t bear to see the poor fellow so disconsolate and so I agreed that, yes, again I would accept a substitute.
And so it was that I was presented with a bacon, sausage and egg sandwich, with brown sauce. The bread was firm, the bacon tasty and the egg and sausage were cooked to perfection.
Best. BLT. Ever.
(And it did have a few slices of onion and pepper on the side. They’ve got vitamins in, right?)