Yesterday, I arrived home from work and my flatmate was cooking soup. I wasn’t hungry – in fact, all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and not exist for a while. But then the smell of the soup hit me.
It was divine, everything you look for in a good soup. Not that it mattered to me, because I was suddenly overcome with an intense craving for toast.
I put the bread in the toaster, and after just a few seconds of waiting I became manic with hunger. I rummaged through my cupboard, pulling out bars of chocolate and scarfing them down, eating spoonfuls of honey straight out the jar. I begged my flatmate for a slice of a cake she insisted I wouldn’t like (I did), and then I saw it: The Lettuce.
At the bottom of my fridge was a sad, lonely, beginning to wilt head of lettuce, and I felt like Eve in the garden of Eden: overcome with longing for this food to the point where I could think of nothing else.
I tore a few pieces into a bowl to make a salad, but it wasn’t enough. Before I had time to fully process what I was doing I was ripping into it with my teeth, pulling it apart and eating it like candy floss. It was a truly feral moment for me. I fear I will never be able to go back to who I was before.
On that note, hi. Welcome to the first post on this blog. I hope you enjoy your time here. It won’t all be about lettuce.