Tag Archives: lunch

May 21, 2012 · 11:28 am

New wave hosting

‘Come to my house for lunch,’ I told some friends. ‘Come at 1pm.’ I was worried they might get the wrong end of the stick, so I quickly sent a follow-up email. ‘Really looking forward to seeing you all this Saturday,’ I wrote. ‘If you could each bring one of the following, that’d be great.’ I then casually listed every item one would need for a lunch.

My friends brought everything they were told to, and we had a very good time. I had a particularly good time, bathing in the ‘good hostess’ glow whilst having to do almost nothing. In my defence, I chucked an extraordinary and fairly unpalatable assortment of booze onto the kitchen table as soon as they arrived. I like to use my guests to get rid of things I can’t be bothered to pour down the sink/ chuck into the bin. I expect my ‘how to hostess’ reality TV show will soon be picked up by SkyLiving.

As my guests carefully loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the table before they left, I felt inordinately smug. I had clearly invented the new wave in lunch parties.

Today, my friend asked me over for dinner. ‘I have tomato, onion, lentil and chorizo soup. If you like that sound of that, bring bread.’

They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I can’t help feeling I’m being taken for a ride. He better have some excellently awful alcohol he wants to get rid of.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Tagged as , ,

November 29, 2011 · 12:14 pm

LUNCH

I have made some macaroni cheese. Well, if I’m being strictly, totally, completely honest, it’s not quite ready yet, but I’ve dutifully stirred the sauce, and boiled the pasta, and realised why butter must be kept in its packet at all times (because on the packet are little 50g demarcations!

I’m starting an anti-butter dish movement as we speak), and now I’ve shoved it in the oven and am just waiting for it to get all crispy on top. (It’s either going to be crispy or hopelessly burnt, depending on how distracted I get). I have made macaroni cheese because of my revision schedule. (I mean, it’s not strictly or even slightly a revision schedule, but it’s a schedule scrawled across an A4 piece of lined paper, so it feels like a revision schedule. There should be a word for revision schedules for grown-ups. And don’t say diary. It’s not a diary. It is a masterpiece of wobbly lines and ‘rest’ periods). The great thing about my schedule is that it tells me exactly what I’m meant to be doing at every point of my day. (Some people would hate this, but seeing as I am the creator of the schedule, I love it).

From 12-1pm, Monday to Friday, I am meant to be LUNCH. It is nearly impossible to make a sandwich that takes an hour to prepare. (Don’t say ‘add chicken’, because I have, and that only takes 15 mins to cook. Unless you’re making an Elvis-style sandwich and using an entire chicken. In which case my schedule would be no good for you because there’s no allocated ‘digestion’ time. And you have to go for a run every so often. And you can’t afford to eat a whole chicken every day. My schedule is not suitable for those who wish to emulate Elvis’ eating habits).

The only way a schedule works is if you stick to it. So I am. And seeing as I’m meant to be LUNCH for a whole hour every day, I have had to expand my meal-time repertoire. So I’ve decided to work my way through every ready-meal I usually chuck in the microwave. I’m basically the Kirstie Allsopp of cooking. I hope people are getting excited for my cookbook. It’ll be like Jamie Oliver’s 30-minute meals, only twice as good.

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Tagged as , , , , ,

September 29, 2011 · 11:21 am

In which I am disappointed

I get a call from a withheld number. I am terribly excited. I think about all the people who might be calling me secretly. ‘Hello?’ I say politely. ‘Hello. This is HSBC.’ I refuse to abandon my earlier hopes. Perhaps HSBC is calling to let me know that they have randomly selected me to win a great deal of money, in a 2011 version of Charlie’s golden ticket.

I instantly upgrade my planned sandwich. Today will be a ‘finest’ day, let me tell you that for free. (I’m sorry, but I think that’s all I’m going to give away for free. Us rich have to stay rich). I wonder if I should throw caution to the wind and pop to Marks and Spencer. And let me tell you, I will not be following the ‘meal deal’. No siree, I will profligately pile things I actually want to eat into my basket. I might buy two puddings. ‘Hello, are you there?’ the HSBC man asks. It seems I have not said anything for some time. I don’t want to make the HSBC man jealous of my newfound lunch possibilities, so I keep my recent thoughts to myself. ‘You have an account with HSBC,’ he tells me. ‘That’s good!’ I say cheerily, ‘Got to be in it to win it!’ ‘Um, yes. The problem is, you haven’t put any money into the account since 2010.’ ‘Well,’ I say gleefully, ‘I’m guessing that won’t be a problem any more!’ ‘Um. No, it is.’ I presume the HSBC man has been watching too many game shows, and is trying to increase tension by pretending I haven’t won. I play along. ‘Oh, really?’ I say. ‘Would it be possible to transfer some money into this account today?’ the HSBC man asks. ‘Ooh, I don’t know,’ I say cunningly. ‘I suppose that depends on what happens today.’ ‘Um, it is important that you transfer money into this account as soon as possible.’ ‘I see,’ I say, playing along. ‘As soon as possible. Yes, I understand.’ I imagine HSBC are going to do an instant bank transfer. This is great, because I am pretty wed to the idea of my enormously expensive lunch.

‘Are you there?’ the HSBC man asks. ‘Of course!’ ‘So, do you have another account you could transfer funds from today?’ ‘Seriously?’ I ask. The HSBC man is silent. Perhaps I have misread this situation. I see my lunch reduced to the Boots Meal Deal as we speak. ‘Is that your final answer?’ I ask the HSBC man, just to check. ‘Um, yes,’ the HSBC man replies, baffled. ‘Please transfer money today.’ ‘OK,’ I say grumpily, ‘but let me tell you this- Marks and Spencer are very disappointed.’ ‘Do you have an account with Marks and Spencer?’ the HSBC man asks eagerly. ‘Not any more,’  I reply. ‘I think you know why not.’ There is a pause, while the HSBC man considers his actions. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow to confirm we’ve received the transfer,’ the HSBC man says finally. ‘And I’ll call if I receive the golden ticket,’ I tell him crossly. ‘I’m sorry?’ the HSBC man asks. ‘Oh, nothing,‘ I reply. ‘Excuse me, I think I have another call. Maybe this one will be Willy Wonka. I hope HSBC have learnt not to raise people’s hopes with their deceiving withheld numbers.’ I presume from the HSBC man’s silence that he is suitably chastened. Let me tell you, I will not be picking up when I see his number flashing across my phone. Oh, wait…

 

 

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Tagged as , , , , ,

September 23, 2011 · 11:52 am

In which I am Joan

This week I have been sitting in the PA room. (Not in a creepy, stalker-type fashion. It’s because I’m being a PA for a week. I’m completely allowed to be there. In fact, it would be absurd for me to sit anywhere else. No man is an island, and all that).

It’s less like being in the Mad Men secretary pool than I’d like, but I’m trying to make do. I try to flounce into the room in the morning, exactly like Joan. Except I’m pretty tired, so have been getting out of bed precisely 10mins before I need to leave the house, so my entrances have been somewhat marred by me still pulling on my jumper and putting in my contact lenses. (In fact, I’m probably more like SJP in this photo with Joan).

  I try not to let this dampen my natural enthusiasm for a job where you can keep your headphones in all day long.

I feel my real chance to shine comes at lunch time. On my first day, I came back with £15 worth of sushi, at which point my colleagues realised that I didn’t understand basic economics. I also put too much wasabi on my sashimi and quite nearly choked. (I assume my colleagues stayed at their desks and continued chatting indifferently because they know I don’t like to make a fuss).

Yesterday, I forgot to eat lunch, and at 4.30pm was so hungry I started looking longingly at the neat cordial. (I’m not sure where the water is in this office-please see earlier statement re making a fuss). Luckily, I noticed some handy biscuits next to my desk. (When I say ‘next to’, what I mean, is ‘on the girl opposite’s desk’). These were quite delicious, and I was congratulating myself on my new money saving techniques when the girl opposite returned, and wondered where all her ‘Tim Tams that I brought back from New Zealand’ were. This was a bit awkward, but I quickly swallowed and started frowning at my computer, to show her how busy and non-biscuit stealing I was. (I would have offered to replace them, but come on. New Zealand? I’ve seen ‘Lord of the Rings’. Practically no-one makes it out of there alive. Even Mike Tindall’s having a hard time down there, and he’s a lot tougher than I am).

So today I decided I would bring in lunch from home. Unfortunately, my fridge was not the well-stocked haven I wish it would become. (The only bloody thing my fridge produces is ice. I live in London. It’s plenty cold enough). I brought in what seemed to be an inexhaustible amount of spinach, a Milkybar yoghurt, some rice, an alarmingly al dente chicken breast and four large tomatoes. Unfortunately I only have one tupaware box, so I had to shove everything into it. It tasted fine, but I’m not sure how appetising it looked. (I saw the NZ girl looking pityingly at my lunch, and felt that she had probably forgiven me for stealing all her biscuits). Perhaps lunch time isn’t really my most Joan-like moment.

I think I’m channeling her best when I imperiously leave messages with people to call me. I give absolutely no indication as to why they should do so, or who I am. (I think, Joan-like, that they should just KNOW). I really think I can turn this place around. Just as soon as I get a handle on this whole lunch thing. And getting fully-dressed before I get into the office. I’ll be having an affair with my boss in no time. Oh no, wait…

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Tagged as , , , , , , ,