I love food. That’s no secret, it probably never will be. I’m very open about my love of food. I’m fussy, but what I like, I adore considerably. This week I’ve had lots of yummy meals cooked by myself and my mother. Which will be a far cry from the meals of the next few days.
I’m going to be living in student accommodation from Friday until Tuesday. When I say live there, I mean I’m going to be sharing a flat with a bunch of sixteen year olds. I hope they can cook. I hope they haven’t chosen a Chinese night (unless there’s some chicken which I can steal and make my own something from). I don’t mind, I did the same thing last year, three lots, and I survived. Though I did learn to bring my own food. I had pasta more than once. The sixteen year olds wondered why, but thankfully I had a very valid excuse. I wasn’t there when they ordered the food!
So, as someone who loves food, I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring. Will I be sharing a flat with teenagers who eat healthily or have tons of snacks? Will there be evening meals I’ll dislike and have to have beans on toast all week? Will they cook me perfect meals every night? We’ll see.
Thank God I’m bringing my own chocolate…