“What on earth is that?”
At first I didn’t realise that he was talking to me, and I carried on eating my lunch and browsing something or other on my PC. He waited for a moment, and then asked me again.
“What the hell is that you are eating?”
I paused, fork halfway up towards my mouth from the Tupperware pot and turned to face him. Ian was sitting at the desk behind me, and until he had been distracted by my lunch, had been having a conversation with Sarah about his workload for the next few months.
I wasn’t really in the mood for talking about it. I don’t often take lunch into work, but this week, in an attempt to get away from eating processed sandwiches and crisps every day, my lovely fiancée has been preparing delicious and wholesome meals for me. On this particular day, I had a big portion of roasted vegetables, couscous and some salad. It was delicious.
“It’s my lunch”
“It looks like mush”
“It’s very nice”
“It still looks like mush”
Ian had a big smile on his face and clearly thought that he was being amusing, but I wasn’t laughing. Ian is a big man in every obvious sense of the word: he is over six foot tall, but he is also massively overweight and must be pushing 30 stone. I do not have a problem with Ian being massively overweight, but quite why he thought I would be interested in his sneering comments about my lunch was beyond me. I cast him a look and turned back to my screen and began once more to eat my lunch.
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