Way back in the dark ages when I was in primary school, we had a very small school kitchen and lunch hall (it was only a tiny primary school – about sixty of us in total), so everyone had lunch together. Funnily enough, that is now seen as the ideal in a world where people seldom sit down to eat together – students and teachers sharing a cooked sit-down meal with proper cutlery and conversation. We tended to take it for granted. Like most primary age kids, I was always hungry at that age – still am, actually – and ate just about anything.
Except macaroni cheese.
I hate macaroni cheese with a passion, and always have. I think it’s mostly the smell rather than the taste, because I struggle to go anywhere near anyone else eating macaroni cheese. The school made me eat it once – their mistake. After that when I said I couldn’t eat something they believed me (but it was only ever macaroni cheese).
So tonight, when we had a late evening at work at which food is provided, and I headed towards the cafeteria and smelt that particular aroma which indicates institutional pasta and cheese sauce… I turned back along the corridor, ate an extra apple, waited until I got home and then cooked myself a lovely mushroom omelette.