Today I discovered what it is like to be a real life archaeologist, to uncover the remains of a lost civilisation, albeit in a very unlikely place.
On the way home I was really hankering for something special for tea. Something which brings such unbridled joy that it cannot be enjoyed every day for fear of the magic wearing off.
I wanted a crisp sandwich.
Because I’m 38, and screw you rules about tea.
So I visited the Tesco Express to purchase the two major components of this dish: crisps and bread. When it comes to the bread it has to be thick cut white sliced – something you can really Beryl (a word meaning to squash a sandwich flat, derived from the name of a character in The Liver Birds) around your crispy centre.
And when it comes to the crisps I usually go with Walkers, more often than not ready salted ones.
And that’s pretty perfect.
But I fancied something a bit swankier tonight, and was immediately drawn in by an offer on the Sensations range of crisps. They had a load of Baldamic Vinegar and Red Onion, and a load of Sweet Chilli. But I really wanted Chicken and Thyme.
Of which there were none.
But then I saw the unmistakable likeness of a chicken breast staring at me from a bag right at the back of the shelf. I was in luck!
I was not in luck.
For a variety of reasons, the packet caught me eye. It looked like it had been through a war. It was all crinkled, crumpled and you could see the outline of crisps where the bag had pressed against it.
So I looked closer.
These crisps had a Best Before daye of early August. They were nearly three months out of date. I couldn’t use them for a sandwich. Well, I could if I’d wanted to find out what that sandwich would feel like leaving my body in liquid form at an inopportune moment.
So I did what anyone would do in that situation, I moved the bag to the front of the shelf in the hopes that an undesirable will by them.
In the end, I had ready salted.